Thursday, March 24, 2011

Push It

Lorraine Says: This week was not a great food week. I mean, there were no crazy sausage shenanigans, like the ones Bret is famous for, and I didn't drink my weight in vodka a la Lily, so in perspective, it was terrible but it wasn't great either. When I slipped up on my diet, I made it count. Cheesecake, in fact, seemed to be the theme of the week.

I only had a slice, promise. PROMISE.

But I ate all of this. Yep. All of it.

But that's not what I'm here to talk about really; I'm here today to convey to you all my strong dislike of Jillian Michaels.

See, I'm a weenie that doesn't like to work out by herself. When Rox can't gym, I might walk with Penny. When Penny can't walk, I'll go work out with my good friend Venus. Venus' poison of choice is a slew of work out videos (er, DVD's) she buys, sort of like one would buy crack. Or wait, how I would buy zebra cakes.

Anyways, whenever I'm working out with her, she subjects me to Jillian.

Now, I understand that Jillian hasn't really done anything to me, exactly, but you're also talking to the girl who's most viewed post is all about how much she hates that bitch Dora the Explorer. (I almost wrote 'Dora the fucking Explorer.' That just sounds like a terrible porn. Different sort of Cardio, folks. Different sort.)

Anyways, here's what I hate:

1.) Don't fucking tell me I'm doing a good job. I'm not sure what sort of condescending prick decided we need positive reinforcement from SOMEONE WHO CAN'T SEE US. Venus bought a new DVD the other day, a Dancing with the Stars one, and we sat on her couch eating crackers and watching it, laughing every time the dumb girl told us we looked great. Thanks lady.

2.) When she tells me to "push it." Uh, no.

3.) When this ho doesn't even do half of her own exercises and then tells me not to give up.

4.) When she is doing the exercises, and talking at the same time, not even out of breath, while I'm dying.

5.) Her face.

I've pretty much given into the fact that the morning gym will never ever happen for me. It's not the waking up, it's the getting out of bed, and putting pants on and stuff that gets to me. So, I'm going to try and do some of this Jillian crap in the morning.

Let's see how this goes.

ETA: It went for like 10 minutes before I wanted to puke. Jillian must be onto Lily's method of puke-ercise.

Tuesday, March 22, 2011

St. Patrick's Day Let Down

Lily Says: So it's Tuesday again.
And let me tell you about the last two pounds I lost. But I was sad about losing them.
I really wanted to go out drinking on Thursday. Because everyone is Irish on Saint Patrick's Day. My friends and I decided that we were all going to play hookey from school and work and go to this place called the Emerald Loop.
So, I was all ready to get piss drunk.
I went to my first class because it's at some ungodly hour. Then I got a call from my friend saying she couldn't get out of work.
And then another call saying my other friend had a test in one of her law school classes.
And my other friend saying she felt like crap.
Fine whatever. But then I started feeling like crap too. Friend number 3 and I had gone out for ice cream the night before. I think we both got sick from this ice cream place *cough*baskin*robins*cough*.
Instead of drinking booze and eating corn beef hash, I was puking. I wouldn't have minded gaining 2 lbs, but apparently the Weight Loss Gods don't want me to have fun
Bret Says: Jesus Christ Lily, With how much you puke I would be almost certain that you are officially bulimic, except that bulimic people are supposed to be skinny.
I'm not saying this is a bad thing.  Puke your way to better cardio.  Especially when your teeth fall out.  It's not much for the looks department, but in other areas?  Mmmmmhmmmm.
Bret’s Addendum: oh, and as an aside:
Lor Says: No, seriously Lily, you puke a lot. Suddenly, that pink stain on your white shirt, way back from one of the first posts, makes so much sense. Apparently you have a hard time keeping things down or in your mouth. 
Lor’s Addendum: And my aside: BEAR WHERE ARE YOU? Also, I love that Wife comes around but never mentions Bear. She's all, "Oh I'm alive, la la la, nothing to see here."

I think Wife killed Bear. And then maybe ate him. EW. 
Wife says: Poor toothless Lily.  Not sure how you'll be able to eat empanadas now. :(
And, Bear's totally still alive...yeah, alive.  And not stuffed and mounted in the basement.  Nope not at all. *whistles and looks at ceiling*
Bret Says: I thought he was supposed to stuff and mount you?  You are totally doing it wrong.
Lily says:  Re: pic = not puke. (it’s kool-aid or red margarita mix… don’t remember it was like four years ago).
I suspect food poisoning from ice cream. Like really. And it was lots of puke. I spent most of thursday and Friday hanging out with the porcelain throne. 

PS I also have all of my teeth. 
Lazarus Bear Says: Much to the dismay of the group I am indeed still alive. Work's been really kicking my ass these last couple weeks and we've got a major release coming up next month which means work work and more work. 
PS - The stuffing and mounting in our house is totally my job.

Monday, March 21, 2011

There are some sick people out there

Witless Exposition says:
See! I'm alive, I promise!

The last couple of weeks have been surprisingly good. I've only put on a pound, and I count that as success. We've been playing tour guide this week for some friends from college. So that means we haven't made it to the gym and have eaten out for EVERY meal.

But, we've also walked all across the city, visiting what feels like every historical landmark for miles. I'm not overstating it to say we probably walked 5 miles each day.

Did I mention we ate every horrible for you but oh so yummy Mexican pastry known to man (sweet potato empanadas...mmmm)?

So even though I'm up a pound, I'm really glad that's all it is. And the crazy thing is, I'm actually kinda looking forward to going back to the gym!

Lily says:
Camote!  I love those little empanadas. Crap. Now I want like 1,000,000 of them. Fuck. I'm going to gain 1,000,001 pounds. Thanks, wife.

Just for you empanada ignorant people

Fishy Guy says:
What sick individual steals a dead girl's ID and blogs about dieting as though they are her?  This world is wrong.
Witless Exposition says:
Apparently it's the sick type of person that then forgets to post until three days later. 

Wednesday, March 16, 2011

Injury Time Out

Lorraine Says: It seems that Bret can disappear for months at time (because he's "working" or "inflating his girlfriend") and that's alright, but a few of us other blobs miss a week or two and he tries to stage a blog coup.

Even though... if I'm honest, I'm not sure Bear is coming back either. Maybe he's hibernating? GET IT HIBERNATING. Okay, sorry I'm done. RIP Bear. We'll still be around when you wake, and chances are Bret will still be fat and Lily might be drunk or crying OR BOTH.

Now for me. Where have I been? Would you believe injured? See, my last post was all about my wild success and how hard I was trying to diet and especially exercise.

A few things happened that interrupted my gym flow, and then it hit me like a tons of bricks: a sharp pain in my chest. It fucking sucks.

Whenever I say something about my chest hurting to anyone they give me wild eyes and tell me that I'm probably dying and should get to a hospital immediately. See, I've been down this road before already.

About a year and a half ago, I had the same type of pain in my chest. I went to the walk-in emergency care center by my house, slammed my fist on the reception counter and proclaimed that I was dying. The nurse up front didn't even blink an eye.

"Sign your name on the list."

"Behind all these people that aren't dying as badly as me?"

"List your problem next to it."

So I signed my name. I was tempted to write "death" as my problem, but instead settled on chest pains. I handed the death list back to the rude nurse. She glanced at it and (in my head) did a very dramatic double take.

"How old are you?"


"There's 23-year old with chest pains! 23-year old with chest pains!"

Suddenly, I was dying a lot more importantly than the people bleeding and moaning in the waiting room. I was whisked away and my vitals were taken, I was put in a room, and then I waited. And waited, And waited. And waited. With no bra on. Seriously, apparently bras get in the way of chest examinations. If anyone knows me, they know that I'm only without a bra during Cardio and showers, so this was almost worse than the chest pains.

A couple of hours later (in my head) the doctor came in.

"I hear you might be dying."

Not fucking funny doctor. Not funny.

"Yep. My chest really hurts. It's a sharp pain."

"Does it hurt worse when you breathe in deeply?"

Breathes in deep.

"Ouch. Yes."

"Does this hurt," she asked, poking me in the middle of my chest.

"OW. YES."

"Okay, well, it's costochondritis. It's basically inflammation."

And she walked out.

Didn't she want to check my heart? Wasn't their some science-y machine that could confirm her diagnosis? Didn't she want to buy me dinner since she did, after all, get me naked?

Nope. It wasn't death, it was an inflamed chest wall.

The rest of the information I gathered was from the print-out diagnosis sheet the check-out lady gave me as I paid for the doctor's finger poke.

Basically, it hurts. It sucks. There's nothing you can do about it. And here, I'll quote Yahoo Health, obviously a very reliable source of information:

The causes of costochondritis are not well-understood and may be difficult to establish. The most likely causes include injury, repetitive minor trauma, and unusual excessive physical activity

It was costochondritis then and this is the same pain I remember. The breathe,ow! pain. The move,ow! pain. The lay down,ow! pain. It'd really suck if I were actually dying this time, but I'm putting my bets on it being costochondritis again.

Basically, exercise is trying to kill me.

So, that's where I've been. Not at the gym. Still eating all right, with the occasional churro and ice cream slip up (one to be exact.)

Well, how do I get better? I'll quote the Mayo Clinic for you:

Most cases of costochondritis have no apparent cause. In these cases, treatment focuses on easing your pain while you wait for costochondritis to improve on its own.

Oh, yay. I get to wait. AMAZING.

Lily Says: That just sounds very scary. This is why my physical activity is Cardio. I feel it's apt to blame Bret for your injury. I mean, you guys live in the same state.

The Root of all Evil Bret Says: Wow, thanks for this fantastic update that was 99% from a over a year ago. In my medical opinion you would probably be a lot healthier if you weren't such a slut. Having that many guys sit on your chest can produce negative results.

Also, you're short and likely under developed as a human being, so I can see you having weak lungs. I'm just here to help.

Lorraine Says: The anecdote from the past was necessary to understand my present condition, asshat. Is reading comprehension something else you struggle with? I guess, though, if you're Bret, that really is the least of your worries.

Weak lungs? Really? From the guy who ran a minute and almost died? Nice try.

Tuesday, March 15, 2011

Emotional Breakdowns = Weight Loss

Lily says: I’ve pulled a Bret and didn’t post for two weeks.

I had an emotional breakdown (sort of) and then stressed out about
school - for nothing, again.

But, all in all it was a good 2 weeks. Maybe not in my life, but the
losing weight.

I had no appetite. Had no Cardio and no cardio. BUT! Managed to lose 4
pounds the first week, and 2 the second. So maybe the key to losing
weight is 1) cry like a bitch for 14 days and 2) lose your appetite so
you won’t eat.

Either way, I’m still better than Bret.

Lorraine says: If crying like a bitch had anything to do with weight, Bret wouldn't have been fat in the first place, no?

Lily says: Yeah, probably. But he fails at mostly everything: Inflatable
girlfriends, blogging, life, etc.

How's that 5K training going, Bret?

Lorraine says: If Bret were chasing me, I'd run a 5k.

Lily says: A marathon even.

I like that Gmail put on my side bar "more about ... 5K beginner, training and schedules" Do you need this, Bret? 

Sloth to 5K says: I have successfully ran all 3 days of my couch to 5k thank you very much.  And also, I have given up french fries for lent.  AND I DONT EVEN CARE ABOUT JESUS.

I think this is good for you Lily, not only that you lost weight, but also that you had an emotional breakdown and cried for two weeks.  It shows that your brain has developed enough for you to realize how truly awful your life is.  Congratulations.

Lily says: Thanks. Maybe next Lent you can give up Haterade.

Monday, March 14, 2011

I Am Taking Over This Blog

Slightly Disappointing Says...

Look folks, the Bear ain't coming back.  Let's face it.  The Bear, he tried dieting.  It was a valiant attempt and all, but ultimately he was just too fat and pathetic to pull it off.  I think we should all be impressed that he made it this far.

As for the rest, well, I dunno.  There have been signs of life from the wife, however when it comes to Lily, well if you go through her tweets you will find the following combination of words many times "Dunkin" and "Donuts"  I will grant you that those could be sexual euphemisms, but most likely whenever she talks about losing weight it's a big fat lie.  Pun intended.

And then there is Lorraine.  She just won featured blogger over at 20sb.  I should say she and her partner, the other one, won featured blogger but let's face it, the other one isn't really a blogger at all.  She is but riding lorraine's coattails.  Well, Lorraine is all pressured and eating tons because of the pressure, and now she feels like she has to make her blog the greatest thing ever, which leaves no time for the blobs or dieting, so yeah...

I'm all alone.

So I thought I'd tell you about my couch to 5K experiences.  I have now done my entire first week of couch to 5K.  I slammed it out in three days, and I can tell you that it was nothing but a massive success.  I can tell you this because you are but internet people, and I don't mind lying.

But I DO have to tell you the story of Day 1.

I knew I wanted to do couch to 5k, I told you as much in my last blob, but I wasn't exactly sure when I was going to start it.  And then something very bad happened for my motivation:  My friend Ray was coming into town.  This meant it would be incredibly easy to put it off until next weekend, or maybe farther because I have a vacation coming up--more on that in a second--and that I ultimately would never even get to day 1 of my newest inevitable failure.  Nice.  It's like my work out plan was still-born.

I didn't want to fail though, and it was while I was at Chick-Fil-A getting Ray and I  fried chicken sandwiches and banana creme pie milkshakes that an idea happened upon me:

Ray is a fat ass.  Ray can do the couch to 5k too!

So, as we were slurping down our milkshakes I told him that we were going to run, and it would be good for us.  Now Ray is about 5'11 and 245.  So he is hugely obese.  He is also nowhere near as out of shape as I am.  I do have one advantage on him though, Ray has never, in all of his years of living, ever done anything more than work on computers.  Ray has no muscle mass.  I have SOME muscle mass due to the fact that it takes a lot of muscles to get this amount of fat between the bed and the toilet.  Thus I thought we were evenly matched.

Ray-This is going to be awful.
Me-This is supposed to be the easy one, the one that anyone can do.
Ray-We are going to die.
Me-I know.

To let you know what the easiest couch to 5k is, it's simple to explain.  You warm up by "walking briskly" for 5 minutes, then you alternate between running for a minute and walking for 90 seconds 9 times, and you finish by walking for 5 minutes again.

Well, we had the walking part down.  Granted, it wasn't "briskly" --we actually didn't see the adverb until day 3--but we were able to walk with no problem.  Then we ran our first minute.  When it got to the walking we were pleased.

Ray:-Oh my God this is bad. This hurts.
Me: *Gasp*Gasp*Gasp*
Ray-Oh fuck.  Fuck.

Then we ran the second minute:

Ray: Oh fuck.  Oh fuck oh fuck.
Me: Shit.
Ray: Fuck.  Oh fuck.  This hurts so bad.
Me: I want to give up.  How much time left to walk?
Ray 5 seconds.
Me: Oh God No.

Then we ran minute 3:

Ray: *Gasp*Gasp*Gasp*
Me: *Gasp*Heave*Heave*Gasp*Gasp*
Ray: 20 seconds left to walk.
Me: No.



Ray: OK, it's time
Me: No.

Ray then paused the program as I bent over and prepared to throw up.  I coughed, uncontrollably, and didn't even try to stop it.  I was prepared to puke after 3 minutes of running.  Miraculously, nothing came out.

Me: We are skipping this run and just walking it.
Ray: Good.

2 1/2 minutes later we did run 4:

Me: OK I'm feeling a little better.
Ray: Yeah, me too.  Yeah, we can do this.
Me: Skipping that run really helped.  I've caught my breath.  I think I can do it now.  How much longer?
Ray: 5 seconds.
Me:  ok ready....go!
Ray: No, wait.

Ray then walked over in the grass and coughed a little bit.  He then threw up more liquid than could have possibly have been inside of him.  I laughed.

Me: Are you ok?

Ray then went to throwing up again.  And again.  And again. I kept having to move farther and farther away from him because I was laughing extremely hard, and getting sick because someone was puking everywhere, that I was about to throw up myself.  This went on for 10 minutes at least.  Every time I thought he was done I would turn around to him and he would throw up some more.  It was awful.  and hilarious.  Little old ladies would walk by with their dogs just as fast as they could, yanking their dogs behind them as they desperately tried to get a taste of the puke.  This, my friends, is why liposuction exists.  People like us weren't meant to work out.

When he was finally done, there was no talk of couch to 5k.  We just walked home with me laughing the entire time.

Day 1: Failure.

I am proud to report that days 2 and 3 were successes in that we finished the workout without puking, but let me assure you that my legs are on fire.  This won't stop here.  We are going to do it again Thursday because we need to finish week 1, and we also need a few days off, and well, I need something to write about Thursday so that I don't become Bear.  I'll keep you posted to my ongoing progress with my newest lose weight fast scheme that will ultimately blow up into my face as puke and bananas.

But...friendly readers...I will be out of commission both March 24th and March 31st, and every day in between, and I was wondering if there were any fat slobs who are dieting, or would like to diet, and want to take my place.  You would be guesting for those two posts, and a part of the e-mail chain for all of the other days, provided somebody actually writes something, which isn't looking very likely.  If you are interested please put it in the comments below.  If there is more than one interested party, then we will choose the fattest and the slobbiest of all, so be sure to include how disgusting you are.  Who knows, maybe you can be a regular weekend contributor.  Or maybe you can take over for one of these over sized non dieting assholes.

Thursday, March 10, 2011

It's Just Me, Because Everyone Else is Dead

Slightly Disappointing, And Only Slightly Disappointing Says...

Wow, is it my turn already?  What with all of your posts I never thought I would even find the time to write!

Well I still don't have a new scale, which is my next big thing.  You see at work we are responsible for putting in our own hours worked in order to get money, and well, I forgot.  So I'll be living this week off of my savings, stumbling around like a poor miser begging others for food.  Next week though, I'll have 2 paychecks and will be drinking from a ruby studded chalice with a diamond laced tiara on--and hopefully a new scale.

My big diet news from the week is simply that I am sore every single day from playing softball, and I love it.  It's got to help right?

But also, and here is what you will want to know:


My fat (formerly fatter) friend has been doing this for a while now.  I'm thinking that it's his personal response to a life where, O.K. I'll just say it, he went from a productive human being to a worthless lump of cow crap that starts making you rethink the notion that no one should commit suicide.

Still, I envied him.  Essentially he is a few years older than me, and used to be in the same line of business.  Because of this he was ahead of me in every aspect of his life.  Then one day he fell down, and I began passing him everywhere.  It got to the point where he was pitiful and pathetic at anything and everything you could imagine.  I tried helping him for years, but it became apparent that something was going to have to happen from inside of him in order to recover.

Well, I'm not sure he has recovered.  He is now in his early 30's, and he works part time at Target.  PART TIME AT TARGET.  In other words, he ain't yet a catch, which is why he has such a bitch of a girlfriend (I love knowing that no one I know actually reads this blog).  Note to everyone out there:  If you ever have to explain to people that your significant other is "Better when you are alone," then they suck, and you should probably find someone that you both like, and isn't hated by the rest of the world.   

Anyway, the fact that he was able to get up and successfully exercise, and lose weight in the process, well this burned at me.  How can someone who fails at every part of life crush me in this part of it?  How can I be this much more inept than he is?

Still, I have always been far bigger than him, so I was able to make excuses and push this stuff aside.

Then I saw a picture of Facebook.  It was of my friend, next to my even fatter friend, right after a 5K.  Back in the day the 3 of us were tight, and we would laugh through our Taco Bell at anyone who suggested that we exercise in any way, and now I see them together after a 5K.  And now it was someone my size.  It was like looking at a picture of Jabba the Hut, only sweaty, and with a SMILE on his face.  Why?  Probably because he knew that he can do something that I could never do.  Asshole.

So now here I am, the left out friend.  The failure.  And I couldn't take it anymore.  My girlfriend had been suggesting I do the couch to 5K for quite a while, but for what?  So I could look sexier for her?  Who cares about her?

Now it's personal.

So two days ago I texted them both that they had me, and because of them I would be starting this program, and soon I'd be right there with them.

"Want to run with me tomorrow?  I'm going to the gym" was the response I got from one friend.

"No." I said.

I know, it's a bad way to start, however these last two days I have been going to watch my beloved St. Louis Cardinals play in spring training, which means I can't go to the gym with him because the timing doesn't work out, and also it isn't very easy to do anything physical when you have eaten a "skull."

What do I mean?  Well as you well know the anatomy of the skull is that you have the brain, and you have the skull covering it, but to keep it from smashing around on it you have this gooey stuff in between cushioning your brain.  Well at the stadium they have something similar.  They have a hot dog, encased in a pretzel, protected by a thick layer of liquid cheese.  And I'll be having more than one.

However, Friday or Saturday I will officially start my couch to 5K proceedings, and I will report back next week.  It's most likely going to be detailed in the post directly above this one, as no one on this damn site writes anymore anyway.

Saturday, March 5, 2011

Bret's Dead and going to Hell (but he sends us messages from beyond the grave)

Witless Exposition says:
Has the zombie apocalypse started and I don't know about it?  I know Lily and Lorraine are still alive, but Bret? Maybe he's just holed up thinking about machine fucking.

For the first time in a while, I've managed to make some headway.  I lost four pounds this week even though we missed a couple of days at the gym.  The days we did go, I really pushed myself. The days I didn't, I was doing really physical housework like sorting and reorganizing our books (yes we have that many).

On the food front, I've been trying to make sure I eat breakfast every morning. Apparently it's good for you, but I find it just annoying. There hasn't been any snack type foods at the house to tempt me, which makes a big difference, even if it makes me grumpy sometimes.

On the whole a good week, which doesn't do much for comedy, but does a lot for my motivation.

Lorraine says:
I'm alive! But um... my mother taught me that if I have nothing to say I should say anything at all. I apply that advice solely to talking about myself, so that explains the silence. But, I'm also free to call you boring. Hooray for the four pounds though! I don't think I've lost four pounds together since this started. I have eaten four zebra cakes together, though, so that probably explains that.

Bret says:
Yeah, i didn't realize i missed my day until just now.  This week flew by.  Congrats on the 4 pound lost.  You are still fat.  

Tuesday, March 1, 2011

Gym Pron!!

TBM Says: So I weighed in this morning for the first time in a few weeks and unfortunately my results were unfortunate.  I've gained back a few pounds and it's probably got a lot to do with my lack of focus on the diet.

I haven't been eating horribly, but certainly not as well as I had been before.  This week I'm going to try to focus on that more heavily.  I've got myself a big bucket of salad that I'll be tackling over the course of the week for lunch.  

While I didn't do great on the diet front we did do pretty good going to the gym this week.  We actually managed to go 5 times and one time we actually got a sex show.  That's right blobs...someone was trying to fuck the shit out of one of the exercise machines.

This was our first weekend gym sessions, and seemingly God was trying to reward me for going to the gym on a Sunday morning.  So we get there and we both head to the elliptical machines, which are situated directly behind the "arch" machines (I had never heard of a machine like this before, but it's basically a stair stepper style machine).  On the arch machine directly in front of the Wife is this Latino woman who has clearly been on this machine for a while and she is straight up fucking this machine.  She's got this whole hip motion going and everything.

I'm sure the Wife found the whole thing rather disturbing and frankly so did I, if only to a lesser degree.  Well blobs, I hope you enjoy the imagery that I've set out for you...especially you Bret.  I know you need any imagery you can get, to make that blow up girl friend of yours just a little bit more interesting. 

Bret Says: I know I've made fun of you a lot Bear, but really...I find this writing very interesting, and I would love it if you would elaborate a little more.  I won't even make fun of you for falling behind me in the pounds department.  But please, you were saying?