How am I failing at Wii Fit?  Is it even possible?  Honestly, I think I’m just allergic to the feeling of my back fat jiggling.  Ick.

If I have a daughter, she will be called George Marie.

If I have a cat, he/she/it will be called Zorro.

Neither will poop where they’re not supposed to.  This is how it will be.

Having a laptop is bad business.  I’m posting this from my bed.  When I can’t sleep, I force myself to sleep.  Now I just give up and go on to watching Project Catwalk and Project Runway Canada while staring at a screen.  Two screens.  My brain is so fried.  My bad habits have become terrible habits, and I’ve had this machine in my possession for less than 24 hours.  Networking it to my PC only makes it worse, as now I’m totally connected.  God damn.

I’ve put on a bitchload of bad weight since Dad died, so my doctor gave me a guide to help me lose 2 lbs per week.  The guide includes a list of 100 calorie portions.  There is a serious lack of pancakes and Kraft Dinner in this guide.  Wtf, only 2 slices of bologna?  I r hating this already.

Rumour has it that John Malkovich lost 70 lbs in his teens by eating nothing but Jello for two months.  If only that were an option.

It’s snowing like a motherfucker.  I’m not sure I approve.

I love hearing screams of ‘TRICK-OR-TREAT’ in the distance.  Hooray for Hallowe’en!

I changed the background image on my phone from a lovely picture of Harry and Ron to a photograph of Abraham Lincoln with floaty hearts. Hooray for me!

Sheldon and I went hiking today at some farm. He opened the gate and asked me to pull the car through. I could not, as I guess I have no idea how to drive a manual. He took the passenger seat and tried to teach me, and after stalling the car nearly ten times, I pulled it through. Hooray for me!

There was something in my jeans on the drive home several hours later. I hoped to God it wasn’t a spider and smacked it with my hand. It was a grasshopper, and its guts were now inside my jeans and on my legs. I didn’t even kill it. It rolled out and was crippled. AT LEAST IT WASN’T A SPIDER. Hooray for me!

I used to perch myself on the kitchen counter when I was little and mash up bananas in a plastic lasagne tray.  After refusing to eat the ‘meal’ I had prepared, I’d make Dad eat it.  I made him eat all sorts of shit I’d cooked up.  I was a good daughter.

To think I’m a terrible chef!  May I one day marry a man with cooking skills.  I’ll pay him with the banana mush our children whip up on the kitchen counter.

Oh damn, now I’ve done it.  The unthinkable.  I’ve eaten too many pancakes.

Such constipation the world has never known.