I feel like the kid who has ignored the charitable weekly visit to his grandmother's house for the past year. I have to admit, constant status updating on social networking sites detract from the amount of decent material I can blog about. And now, since I've finally accepted Facebook as my redheaded stepchild, I just cant stop beating it to death with updates of what I'm doing, in retribution for it's awful soul-lesness, stealing all my juicy vittles. I believe that's what we'd call a vicious cycle.
Now that Lady has blogged twice since we both decided that we were in a blogging rut, I feel compelled to tell you SOMETHING about what's going on in my life that you might not already know.
Since we last spoke, I've lost 12 pounds!
...And in one dazzling indulgent weekend in New England, I managed to gain it all back. Fail.
Impressive, huh? So here I sit, back to day #2 of punishing myself with a fully nutritious yet liquid diet to hopefully get to where I left off. At least the liquid is a form of chocolate (even if it's imposter, it still fills that void), and at least I do get to look forward to some fruit and salad every day. But why are there free sandwhiches today? :( And why is there free cake? :( :(
Speaking of which, some people just aren't meant for fedoras. I'm not trying to steal Lady's Miley Cirus thunder or anything, but reading her last entry brought into memory the leopard print Miley Cyrus fedora I tried on this weekend. Mind you, it was strewn behind some bags of potting soil in the garden section of walmart, I didn't go searching for it specifically, I just spotted the print with my natural internal African-wildlife-pelt-radar and was drawn in its general direction. Suffice to say, I looked like Borat's neighbor. You know the one: When Borat get clock radio, I can not afford. Just a little more jazzy and stylish.
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