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03.14.2003 - 6:10 p.m.


So I brought in some Lean Cuisines to Workplace. Even though we get free meals. Because it's easier for me to calculate what my caloric intake is when I'm dealing with a box of frozen macaroni and "cheese" than our chef's always-yummy but not necessarily super-healthy food. Plus, you've got portion control built right in - you eat what's in the little plastic thingie, and you're done.
It's been kind of embarrassing, the new Lean Cuisine Regime. The other day, we had cheese quesadillas for lunch with fresh guacamole, homemade salsa, and sour cream. Now, that's a meal I could happily roll around naked with, even if the tortillas got stuck to my asscrack. But I was strong, and headed to the microwave to cook my wee frozen meal. And man, the way all my coworkers reacted, you would think I was busily thawing out a human head in there.

"What are you doooing? There's quesadillas!"
"You DO know we have a chef here, right?"
"Who the hell actually eats those things? Blaargh."
"What. Is THAT?"

Soon I'll be hiding under my desk, gnawing at a frozen hunk of prepackaged chicken broccoli, too ashamed to venture out to the oven, fearful of the hot tar and the feathers.

I'm slowly seeing progress from all the horrible terrible gym classes I've been taking. I have a new dip in my triceps that I like to stand in front of the mirror and stare at. My shoulders are stronger. My butt presumably has more muscle tone from all the squats and lunges in the Body Pulverize class but it's still buried under a thick protective layer of la gordura.

I'm also a shade or two more tan. Shut up! So I went to a tanning salon, is that so wrong? Stop that!


When I got home today, the sun was shining into the living room. Which illuminated all the fur everyfuckingwhere. My house? Completely coated in fur. The carpet is a veritable sea of fur, and god help you if you walk around in black socks. Doesn't matter how much I clean, either. Say I up and vacuum the holy shit out of everything. Now the dog comes up, gets patted, then has a nice big shake - and voila, we're back to Furtopia. And wherever there is not Yellow Lab fur, there is Black Cat fur.

I have tried speaking to the pets about this, but it does no good.

"Yeahhh. Ok. So you're saying try and shed less? Uhhhh...whatever. But listen, seriously, do you maybe want to play Frisbee? Play Frisbee? Huh? Huh? Because I'm ready, like any time you are. Like I could go right now. You want to? Huh?"


"What do you mean, what am I doing up here? Power-shedding on JB's backpack, of course. Just wait until his next camping trip. Wait, I'm a catpack. A catpack. Heh."


"Check it out! Two toys at once! The armadillo AND the pelican! Go me!"


"Jesus, that dog is a fucking idiot. Now leave, I am trying to clog your monitor with the leavings of my pelt."


"Are you back on the fur thing? Um, can we talk about this later? I need to eat my food as though a pack of wolves were circling it, ok? And after that I was hoping we could play a little Frisbee?"


"As you can see, I am really very busy right now and I cannot be bothered with your pitiful squeaking about "too much bloody hair everywhere". Frankly I find it quite rude that you would interrupt me as it should be plainly obvious to even an imbecilic human that I am currently engaged in not ONLY bolting my food like a starving wildebeast but ALSO spraying bits of kibble around my bowl in a disgusting manner. MMPH BLORT SNORT GLOMP CHEW MLOT MMFH CHOMP SMACK SLURP."


"Ohhh. Hufffff. Wow. That was a great fuckin' dinner, man. Just - yeah. That hit the spot. Mwoof. Siigggh. Sorry about the massive drifts of hair I'm leaving here in the guest bedroom, but I've gotta take a load off and....Frisbee?"

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