It's been a long, long, long, long time
How could I ever forget you?
Things have been up and down in the real-life-o-sphere of late. I've been avoiding this blog like a true procrastinator, until it became a BIG FUCKING DEAL and god help a procrastinator when things loom large.
Tonight, I cat-napped through the gym-going window, so we made a pizza (with goat cheese!) and drank some wine. "Some" = 4 glasses. I am la trashed, as they say in France. In a very pleasant way that I will no doubt vaguely regret come morning. Why is it that once it has been established that we are not going to the gym, all bets are off and the booze and cheese comes out?? Slippery slope, indeed.
I've tried to care more than I do about such things, but anyone who's ever trespassed on the discussion boards of such weight-loss sites as Weight Watchers know that there's an equally slippery slope in the other direction: "So, I mixed fat-free Cool Whip with Splenda and fat-free peanut butter and froze it! And it's JUST LIKE ice cream!" Um, no. I admire people who can keep off hundreds of pounds for years and years, but surely there's a place in the equation for milk-fat. And, oh, I don't know...FLAVOR.
Oh dear, there's a girl having a tearful conversation on the phone out on the sidewalk...all I can hear is "...and then you have a baby with someone else!" Damn. "You told me to get out! Fucker!" The traffic is drowning her out now...
I do love living in Chicago. You really get a sense of how many people there are in the world, and your place in it--for better, or for worse. I find it comforting to know that 6 billion other folks are out there, limited to their subjective point of view, fearing, loving, and hoping that they've got it right about this life.
Things have been up and down in the real-life-o-sphere of late. I've been avoiding this blog like a true procrastinator, until it became a BIG FUCKING DEAL and god help a procrastinator when things loom large.
Tonight, I cat-napped through the gym-going window, so we made a pizza (with goat cheese!) and drank some wine. "Some" = 4 glasses. I am la trashed, as they say in France. In a very pleasant way that I will no doubt vaguely regret come morning. Why is it that once it has been established that we are not going to the gym, all bets are off and the booze and cheese comes out?? Slippery slope, indeed.
I've tried to care more than I do about such things, but anyone who's ever trespassed on the discussion boards of such weight-loss sites as Weight Watchers know that there's an equally slippery slope in the other direction: "So, I mixed fat-free Cool Whip with Splenda and fat-free peanut butter and froze it! And it's JUST LIKE ice cream!" Um, no. I admire people who can keep off hundreds of pounds for years and years, but surely there's a place in the equation for milk-fat. And, oh, I don't know...FLAVOR.
Oh dear, there's a girl having a tearful conversation on the phone out on the sidewalk...all I can hear is "...and then you have a baby with someone else!" Damn. "You told me to get out! Fucker!" The traffic is drowning her out now...
I do love living in Chicago. You really get a sense of how many people there are in the world, and your place in it--for better, or for worse. I find it comforting to know that 6 billion other folks are out there, limited to their subjective point of view, fearing, loving, and hoping that they've got it right about this life.
posted by turalura at Tuesday, May 30, 2006
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