Because I hate my life.
A self-indulgent experiment in motivation.
Wednesday, December 21, 2011
Tuesday, December 20, 2011
I got what I deserved
Because today is my gym off-day, I gleefully consented to a post-work nap.
What I'd like to believe this looked like:
What I'm sure it really looked like:
By the time I slithered out of bed, it was too late to cook a decent meal, so I made a crucial error: I resorted to McDonald's drive thru - the ultimate in abject slobbery.
That was my first mistake. Actually, my first mistake was submitting to McDonald's. And yes, for those of you who are wondering, Ronald McDonald himself literally shoved his repugnant food down my throat.
I don't know why I expected any less, but upon returning to the homestead, I discovered that the incompetent morons at this fine establishment get my order completely wrong. Regardless, in my final act of contemptible self hatred, I consumed the entire defective meal, which likely had the nutritional equivalent of a cardboard box soaked in radioactive nuclear waste.
This night isn't salvageable. I know this now. But tomorrow is a new day, a day where I will refrain from a siesta, sweat tonight's grade F meat out of my system, and eat a real, honest-to-fucking-god meal. For I must look forward, not backward; upward, not forward; and always twirling, twirling, twirling towards freedom.
What I'd like to believe this looked like:
What I'm sure it really looked like:
By the time I slithered out of bed, it was too late to cook a decent meal, so I made a crucial error: I resorted to McDonald's drive thru - the ultimate in abject slobbery.
That was my first mistake. Actually, my first mistake was submitting to McDonald's. And yes, for those of you who are wondering, Ronald McDonald himself literally shoved his repugnant food down my throat.
I don't know why I expected any less, but upon returning to the homestead, I discovered that the incompetent morons at this fine establishment get my order completely wrong. Regardless, in my final act of contemptible self hatred, I consumed the entire defective meal, which likely had the nutritional equivalent of a cardboard box soaked in radioactive nuclear waste.
This night isn't salvageable. I know this now. But tomorrow is a new day, a day where I will refrain from a siesta, sweat tonight's grade F meat out of my system, and eat a real, honest-to-fucking-god meal. For I must look forward, not backward; upward, not forward; and always twirling, twirling, twirling towards freedom.
Sunday, December 18, 2011
I'm a Blobfish
Oh hai.
Remember me?
No?
Fair enough. I'm an internet (and real life) nobody who naively thought that creating a blog would actually be a successful motivator in eating right and getting in shape.
I was gone for a minute, but now I'm back and giving it the old college try for approximately the 478th time. Besides, I want to be one of those people who is already givin'er at the gym before January 1st so I don't look like one of those new years resolution fools.
For what it's worth, for the entire month of November, I was a workout machine. I was averaging three to four days at the gym, eating right, and getting some serious results.
Then I went on a little trip to Chicago, ate my weight in deep dish pizza, and now I stand before you a broken and disgusting mass of sarcasm and high cholesterol. Artist's rendition below:
Can you believe this is an actual thing that exists?
I digress.
It's a week before the most miserable time of the year, and instead of being all Sally Homemaker heading to the kitchen to do some holiday baking, and you know, being all cheerful and shit, I'm going to work the hell out of my body. Like seriously make it wish it was never born.
Take that, God!
Remember me?
No?
Fair enough. I'm an internet (and real life) nobody who naively thought that creating a blog would actually be a successful motivator in eating right and getting in shape.
I was gone for a minute, but now I'm back and giving it the old college try for approximately the 478th time. Besides, I want to be one of those people who is already givin'er at the gym before January 1st so I don't look like one of those new years resolution fools.
For what it's worth, for the entire month of November, I was a workout machine. I was averaging three to four days at the gym, eating right, and getting some serious results.
Then I went on a little trip to Chicago, ate my weight in deep dish pizza, and now I stand before you a broken and disgusting mass of sarcasm and high cholesterol. Artist's rendition below:
Can you believe this is an actual thing that exists?
I digress.
It's a week before the most miserable time of the year, and instead of being all Sally Homemaker heading to the kitchen to do some holiday baking, and you know, being all cheerful and shit, I'm going to work the hell out of my body. Like seriously make it wish it was never born.
Take that, God!
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