Today’s Weight … 122.0
Yes, it’s up. Nearly two pounds. The sad thing is that, had I only stopped chowing down on everything long enough to write a damned post lately, I could’ve logged my recent 119.7 weigh-in. But noooo! I have to report TODAY’S weight. (eyes rolling)
Don’t get it? Check this post.
It came to my attention recently that simply rearranging the ‘call letters’ of this blog creates another entirely new word – Don’t. The word is usually restrictive, negative, even demanding … but I thought it could open the door to all kinds of hilarious hijinks, shenanigans and other dumbassery. So, here we go … the first-ever edition of ‘You Can’t Spell Don’t without O-D-N-T.
I don’t …
… drink coffee. Ever. I mean, like maybe I’ll have it twice a year. When all the other cool kids are doing it. And, honestly, I feel kind of left out. Most of my friends suck it down by the barrel every day. Seems like a pretty acceptable vice. A benign enough addiction. Right?
Well, not in my case.
Last week, I exercised with a friend and went to have coffee with her afterwards. And, in a complete and utter shit-girls-say moment, I found myself turning to her when we walked up the counter and saying,“Um, what’s my coffee order, Vanessa?” After all, I was there to taste her diet discovery. I don’t know the first thing about ordering a pretentious, lengthy-named, fancy-ass coffee beverage.
And so she ordered for me. I heard mention about doubling up on something. I just nodded my head. “Whatever you’re having,” I said like an idiot. I didn’t realize we were already talking about a one-and-a-half-shot situation. Which meant doubling it translated to tripling the shot. Of espresso.
By the time it hit me, I was parking the car at the grocery store. Still completely unaware of what I had done to myself. And, as I felt my face heat up and my heart begin to race (“inexplicably”), I wondered if I was having a heart attack. Then, it dawned on me. And so, naturally, I began tweeting …
Dear Barista, You screwed up my coffee order. I said DECAF! Now, come help me down from this tree. I’m a freakin’ hummingbird.
Holy crap. Just learned my drink “accidentally” had THREE shots of espresso. Funny joke, friends. I could outrun the roadrunner.
I am so “Less Than Zero” right now.
At grocery. Cheese is talking. But not to me. Stupid cheese. Feel like I’m running but might be moving in slow motion. #accidentallydrugged
I think I feel my hair growing.
It’s bad when you can play doubles tennis by yourself, right? Should I call the hospital?
Don’t cut me off in traffic, dude. Today is the day I’ll “accidentally” beat you to death with a hairbrush.
This is a grocery bag. Not a damned parachute. Help!
Why is everyone speaking like they’re in super slo-mo?
I’m melting … melting …
Friends don’t let friends overcaffeinate their friends-who-don’t-drink-coffee’s drinks. #WorstPSAEver
It was a c-RA-zy afternoon. I felt energized, anxious and sick … all at the same time. The crash was hard, but necessary. And it was good to be myself again. I just wish I’d be home when it happened so I could’ve finally gotten my bathroom tiled. I could’ve knocked that shit out in fifteen minutes.