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?"

"23."

"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.

Sometimes, life just shits on your face and then smears it in...

TBM Says: I've had a pretty healthy week. I've been eating like I should and I've gone to the gym everyday since Thursday (the first day of my membership). but I haven't really seen any real results.

My blood sugar is about the same and I think I've actually gained a pound. I'm not going to bother with the whole "muscle is heavier then fat" argument. It feels like bullshit and likely is. It's like my body doesn't understand what's going on...I workout and it's like "What the fuck are you doing? I was holding on to that fat for winter and shit man..." Well fuck you body...time to be a little lesser.

Anyway...next week we'll be visiting family and I really need to come up with a game plan to keep up the workouts and try not to gorge myself at some of my favorite dives.

I'm thinking that I can probably do some beach jogs to keep the workouts rolling...I'm thinking the dogs might like that as well. I might get a little extra workout just trying to get them to go near the water. And as far as gorging myself...well I promise I'll only have 1 Baked Salmon roll at Sakura and I swear I'll share the Mardi Gras Nachos at Brownstone. Difficult as it may be.

Lily Says: By any chance, was the pound you gained the pound I lost last week?

If so, it was supposed to go to Bret.

The Wife Says: I think both of our bodies are rebelling.  It's starting to get cold outside, natural hibernation time for Bears, and what do we do?

Make them move.

It's no wonder they hate us. (And yes, I noticed I've gained a pound or two since this whole work out things started).

The Mighty Tickler (Bret) Says: My God, and you guys got on me for blaming my family.

Bear, sorry to say, you aren't ACTUALLY a bear.  A nickname does not make it so.  You are a human, as a human, you do not hibernate.

You gained a pound because you are a failure at life, and this "diet" is part of your life.  There is good news though, as a big fat slob you will likely die at a relatively young age, and therefore your constant shortcomings will no longer be a "heavy" load.

Oh, and so far this week I have lost weight.  I just finished a healthy bowl of cream of mushroom soup for lunch, along with my glass of water, and tonight I will be playing softball.

So eat it.  Oh why even say that?  I know you will. 

Failure.  Nom nom nom. Depression. Nom nom nom.  Impotence. Nom nom nom.

PS...Sorry for the late post.  Also, WTF Lorraine?  I'm not good enough to get a response today?

Bah! Broken Scales Suck

Lily Says: So, this past week I partook in a little Ethiopian diet, no sleep, super stress, and only eating goldfish and water.

I stepped on the scale, and I only lost one pound. WTF?! Am I using Bret's scale? I think so. I don't even know how it's possible to have only lost so little considering my intake was close to nothing.

Dieting is harder than I thought when you're not being aided. I went to GNC and thought about buying diet pills. But I remember taking those guys in high school and feeling like I was going to have a heart attack, I decided not to get them and just buy some meal replacements since I can't always be near a place where I can buy or make food, so a bottle of water + meal replacement = actual substance in my tummy.

Let's at least go for two pounds shed next week.


Lorraine Says: One pound coming from the girl who was having sex for 24 hours?! I think you're doing it wrong. Maybe not enough Poo?

Also, I thought about using some sort of aid. I mean, I come from a Dominican background and we've got a remedy/plant/tea/aunt with pills FOR EVERYTHING.

I mentioned to my cousin that I was trying to loose weight and she fished out a little green "Chinese pill" from her purse that she told me to try out and see if I wanted more, wink, wink.

That green pill is still on my dresser looking at me. I'm afraid guys. I'm very afraid.

Also, when I read that you were eating goldfish, I immediately assumed you meant like little alive, swimmy, goldfish. Which is actually better than if you mean those cheesy montronsities known as Goldfish. I FUDGIN' HATE THOSE.

Goldfish are the food of hell. 

Lily Says: I think I lost more, but I gained it back because we had super Mexican food on Sunday which really translate to, I ate alot of rice. 

But, this week = 48 hours of sex....

Bret Says: I think Lily only lost a pound because for at least 24 hours she was shoving everything she could inside of her.  I'm just not talking about her mouth...

and Lor, I'm sorry I have to do this, but by God did you ignite a pet peeve of mine.

It's LOSE not LOOSE.  LOSE.  LOSE.  One O.  LOSE.

Lose is when you no longer have something you previously had, or when you don't finish in first in a competition.

Loose is what you are on Saturday nights.

Lily Says: Bret, we're Hispanic... sometimes when we say words, they sound like other things... But remember that one time that I edited your blog post? That was fun.

Also, please take back your scale. I'm sure I lost more than one pound. Your stupid scale is broken and is proving so. 

Lorraine Says: SERIOUSLY?!

Is that what we're doing now, is nitpicking spelling and grammar? Because I'm pretty sure if I just go back...

This is something you sent us yesterday:

"I'm still trying to figure out it what way you meant "little stroke" though either might be accurate."

SHUT THE FUCK UP ASSHAT. If you need help figuring out how to, stuff a sausage down your throat and hold.

And that's funny, I saw you on a Saturday and turned down your sexual advances, so I must not be that loose. 

Bret Says: My God, look at you little vultures.

I could have pointed out millions of things, but didn't because we all make mistakes, however I cannot stand "loose" for lose.  It must be stopped.

Of course this is a silly conversation, the only word the two of you will need to know is the word "gain."

As in, "When my uncle threw the Kit-Kat bar on the ground I bent over to eat it and it caused me to gain two pounds.  Also, since he took me from behind I am now carrying his incestual fetus.  Does anyone know a Hispanic abortionist, or should I just ask some of the drug cartels to shoot me in the stomach?  Hey!  Maybe that's the one way I could actually lose weight!  Oh excuse me, my silly uncle just dropped a nutter butter."

Now you try.

Lorraine Says:  Nobody cares what you can't stand.

What must be stopped are your lonely heart attacks, the lie you keep spreading about having a girlfriend, your frequent visits to just outside of Lily's window, and that second helping of everything.

Get back to me on my typo when all these things are accomplished.

And putting together that nifty little example you used about gaining weight, plus the fact that you love sausage plus the fact that you gained 16 pounds right at the start of this all, I'd venture to say that you know a thing or two about dropped Kit Kats and taking it from behind.

(This would be a good place to insert the definition of "loose," as in, your asshole.)

Bret Says: Whore.

Lily Says: So, sorry I posted this shit so late. My intention was to post this at school... but that fucking shit is always down. And for the two minutes the network actually works, it loads facebook and then it says you're not connected. 

PS. Where are Mr & Mrs TBM?!