weekend pickthrough- fatty resurrection edition.

25 10 2010

what, i didn’t even manage to pull out the weekend pickthrough during the actual weekend? even after i promised that i would try harder? yeah, on the surface, it looks right now like i suck pretty hard (and it’s true, i probably do). BUT, what i did do this weekend instead of writing the pickthrough was to resurrect an old corpse i had lying around the house (just in time for halloween)- my old diet blog being bess marvin.  since i am again attempting to take off the 30 divorce (and subsequent lazy-ass cheese whore) pounds, it seemed like a good idea to resuscitate ole bess, as it is a proven fact that people who write down what they eat lose more weight. now, i won’t be boring you with the details of my daily meals (unless i happen to eat something really extraordinary), but imagine how many pounds i can lose talking about blowing the crotch out of my spanx!

i can’t promise you that i will lose any weight, but i can promise you this:

1. grisly and detailed recountings of my frequent dietary failures.

2. i will continue to catalog every time that nancy drew took a cheap shot at bess marvin’s weight (that bitch!).

3. i will kick this shit off with a giveaway. ok, it’s a little bit lame- but it is free candy, a big boxy t-shirt, and a diet journal to write about how ashamed you are for eating all your candy in one sitting.  but if you want the goods, you do have to go over to being bess marvin and leave me a comment about the food that throws you off the diet wagon with both hands. or, if you’re some smug bitch who has a healthy relationship with food, you can write about that too.

if you made it this far and have actually noticed that i didn’t technically have anything to pick through this week, i apologize. maybe you could just toddle over to youtube and watch this a few times. it should pretty much make you forget your irritation, and just about anything else you have on your mind. 35 million people can’t be wrong.





weekend pickthrough- noisy neighbors edition.

11 09 2010

so i know that last week i was all promising to squeeze the weekend pickthrough out by friday… but i assure you that i have a totally valid excuse for my failings this week. TOTALLY VALID!  (thought you might be more convinced of the validity if i used all caps). anyway, thursday night i went out with some friends, drank too many ciders, and then rambled home around midnight. at home, i tried shoveling some leftover mexi-mac into my craw for a few minutes, and then promptly passed out on the couch. easily, this could be the end of the story (although drunkenness wouldn’t exactly be as TOTALLY VALID as previously purported).

so i wake up around 2ish and decide that i should probably drag my drunk ass to bed if i’m going to make it to work in 5 hours. teeth brushed. sweatpants on. i hurl myself onto the space foam face down ready to lapse into an immediate coma…. and then i hear it: BOM-CHICKA-BOM-BOM BOM-CHICKA-BOM-BOM BOM-CHICKA-BOM-BOM. what’s that? the endless thumping bass line of my frat-boy cliche next door neighbors? i tried valiantly to let the booze wash over me and cancel out the thumping, but it was too late. i was sobering up, and unless they turned that shit down, i was never going to get to sleep.

so i go downstairs with the intention of gently knocking on their door and calmly letting them know that they are disrespectful assholes who should probably kiss my ass before i kick theirs… but they didn’t answer. i knocked louder. and louder. and eventually resorted to karate kicking the shit out of their door as loud as i possibly could for a good 5 minutes. still, no answer.

i finally went inside and devised the following master plan:

1. write sternly worded note that will effectively elicit guilt, shame, and compliance.

2. tape note to door.

2. emblazon door with the phrase “DOUCHE PALACE” in red lipstick.

4. write note to landlord regarding their inconsiderateness.

the note happened pretty swiftly, but looking for a lipstick that i was willing to ruin took slightly longer that i predicted. armed with tape, a wet & wild coral lipstick, and all the rage that my 5′ 7″ frame is capable of containing, i stomped across the porch to their door.

and then, the guy came out. FUCK. sadly, my plan would never make it past stage 1. also, i was so filled with fury (and booze), that i’m pretty sure i didn’t make much sense while i attempted to rip him a new one. i remember yelling DUDE a lot, and when he apologized, saying something like “GODDAMN RIGHT YOU’RE SORRY”, but the rest is an unfortunate blur.

i was shaking all over when i came inside around 3:15, which resulted in me not heading back to bed until around 4-4:30. seeing as i get up at around 6:45 to get ready for work…. that would equal exactly NOT ENOUGH SLEEP FOR BASIC HUMAN FUNCTION.

so last night after work (and a really big bowl of pasta), i did not pass go, i did not collect $200, i did not write my blog post… i went directly to bed (and slept for about 13 hours). so i’m sorry about the delay, but if you have any formal complaints, you can address them to the douche palace.

this hilarious sweet disorder post is just called “prostitute laundry”, and i think that’s all the introduction you need.

things organized neatly caters to my OCD-ness in the most attractive way possible.

i’m buying this book for everyone on my xmas list. and if you’re lucky, i’ll likely host an ill conceived giveaway so that you can have a chance to get one too.

let’s all leave little presents for strangers.

of all the mad-men spinoff websites that have emerged, this one is BY FAR my favorite.

the always amazing elisa doucette shares her dirty ex-stalking secrets, and helps us break the habit with EX BLOCKER.

i’m not sure whether designing speed bumps that look like small children is utter brilliance or a soon to be tragic mistake.

name brand foods are totally worth it if you coupon the shit out of them. too bad nobody told slashfood about that.

my child rescued the princess with no warp pipes (i don’t even have kids, and i demand that these stickers get made).

why are the really boring things on antiques roadshow always the most valuable? where are ben franklin’s anal beads or the left toe of hunter s. thompson?

new addition to the local blogroll! sort of webcomic meets fitness chronicle meets me almost peeing on myself with laughter.