Wednesday, April 05, 2006

Random

At 2 minutes and 3 seconds past 1 o'clock today it will be:

1:02:03 4/5/06 - this won't happen for another hundred years.

You may continue with your day!

Tuesday, April 04, 2006

FUCK.THE.SCALE.

Yeah I said it. There is a reason why I never put that evil, vile, spawn of the devil device on my housewarming list. I hate it. It is the bane of my existence.

I spent the weekend at my soror's house. She hosted a sleepover for our sorority's club for teenage girls. It was a good time. We watched inappropriate movies, played taboo, found out everyone's dirty little secrets and ate lots of food. A good time was had by all. And then I did it.

Fabulous weekend coming to a close and my eyes focus on that shiny white box on the floor. It's never been my friend. Not since I was encouraged to see a nutritionist at the age of 13. I tried to become friendly with it 5 years ago when I gave Weight Watchers a try. I was actually pretty cool with it. It was the self-pitying, depressing women who's stories I had to listen to for an hour every week that I couldn't stomach. But I had nothing against the scale. It was my friend. Those little numbers went down even when I had a Big Mac instead of a salad at McDonald's or had a soda instead of a Crystal Light. Even if it was the teensiest bit.

But like a spawned lover, the motherfucker turned on me. What happened to the scales where the needle would go around and stop in the general area of what you might possibly weigh. No, they wanna get all high-tech on my ass and weigh me down to the last.motherfucking.ounce. What is an ounce? How heavy is an ounce? Because I have a message for that shiny, white box on the floor of an immaculate and spacious bathroom in Hackensack, New Jersey.

Fuck you and your .2 ounces. It's those other couple hundred pounds I need to worry about.