Tuesday, February 3, 2009

that's what she said

We've been combating a serious addiction at the Dilbro house, and that would be a little series called The Office. I bought my mother a Netflix subscription for Xmas, and since I set up her account for her, she's been sweet enough to give me access to the "Watch Instantly" option. One ill-fated night we dragged the couch over in front of the computer monitor and made the genius decision to start watching the show from episode 1, and from that moment our fate was sealed. Sometimes The Office makes me laugh so hard that I get flashbacks to watching Seinfeld with my mother in the mid-nineties when we'd both hoot and holler until she peed her pants.

What is winter good for though, if not watching entirely too much TV? I remember when we moved into this apartment; we had sold our Wii to Toby, since we didn't really want it in the first place (it was a Christmas gift to Brandon in '07), and decided to once again live life sans TV. We had done it originally when we moved to Memphis, but had to give in when we were given that devil video game system. The problem is that TV on the internet makes TVs obsolete! I don't need a fucking TV to watch TV. So no matter how hard I try not to watch TV (OK, not very hard), I keep watching TV. OH THE HUMANITY.

I wrote up 2/3 of an entry about the inauguration last week. No, two weeks ago. It's kind of a basic we were there and this is what happened and this is how I feel about it entry. But then, some time passed, and I didn't finish it, and then it seemed like too much time has passed, and I've been trying not to drink coffee in the morning and without a healthy dose of caffeine, both my teeny humble presence in the blogosphere and the success of my pooper, they suffer. So that is what happened to that. Maybe in the next few days, I will indulge myself in some extra strong coffee, take a huge shit, and finish and publish it. You will think, this is entirely too late, this is not a timely entry at all, but by then you'll be reading it and hopefully by the time you're done, you'll be too exhausted by its mundanity to have the energy to hit "comment."

The air conditioner's on in here. Why's the air conditioner on, for God's sakes? Oh wait, I know, MENOPAUSE.

The reason I've been laying off the coffee is that one day I was minding my own business, walking to the bathroom and a lady who started working here the same time as me, who I went through 3 months of training with, felt it was an appropriate time to ask me whether or not I was trying to increase the size of my booty, and then commented that it was looking "fluffy." Yes, fluffy like a cat or a baby ducking. However, instead of "adorable," I believe she was insinuating something more like "covered in a dimply layer of disgusting blubber." Ahem. I became distraught, went to the Amazon marketplace and ordered a copy of Skinny Bitch for $3. I'd seen Bianca on the Vegan Crunk blog mention it, and I was feeling in need of salvation. Apparently, the heaps of chocolate and cheese consumed during the holidays had made their presence known on my derriere. According to the Skinny Bitch bitches, the best way to be skinny, and therefore happy, is to be a vegan who drinks no coffee and, if you must get boozy (I must, I must), your only option's organic red wine. Is there an organic version of Franzia??

So anyway. Mr. Dill and I have been exercising at the Hope and Healing Center (which totally makes me think of a rehab facility) and while I have not become a vegan, I've been trying to change my habits a bit. Everyone who saw me drink 6 Natural Lights and a Sparks on Superbowl night is tee-hee-heeing at me, but what you don't know is that that was my dinner. So there.

I went on a huge weight loss bender in the spring of 2006 and sometimes, after working out at the Y, would choose to "drink my dinner." Instead of having a nice healthy salad, I'd just buy the dinner of champions:

But then one of those nights, I tried to drive to a boy's house to have sex with him, and THANK GOD he was not there, because we really didn't know each other that well and he was not the kind of guy you make booty calls on and it would have all been really humilating. And maybe he had a girlfriend? Who can tell. Now I drink Jerry with my husband, though, and sometimes I bootycall him. Other times I just pass out on the couch while he goes to the Taco Bell.


Leslie said...

I had forgotten what it feels like to work with a bunch of middle-aged women. I used to fantasize about taking my shoe off and hurling it at some helmet-haired head every time I heard some bitch complain about how hot it is. Take some hormones. Lose 100 pounds. Maybe it won't be so fucking hot anymore. And then I remember that this is my fate, too. OH GOD.

Bette said...

When I worked with a bunch of middle-aged women, they always acted as if they were 70 instead 35-55. They HAD to have their breaks on time everyday. They HAD to sit down in between customers. They HAD to have a fucking fan blowing on them at all minutes. They HAD to have Sundays off for church. They HAD tune the radio to Froggy 104 Country. The list goes on and on... I hope I'm never a whiny bitch, though, as Leslie stated, you might try revisiting me in 15 years just to see.. This could be us..

Sofa King said...

When I worked with bunch of middle-aged women I got crazylaid.

Chrystal M. Smith said...

We do Blockbuster online and TiVo everything we watch. It makes the weekends go by way too quickly though. Our recent addiction is Dexter.


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