I have directions.
I have a tarp.
I have a bucket.
I have a tent.
I have a sleeping bag.
I have a cooler with energy bars, fruit, and vegetables.
I have 3 gallons of water.
I have copied all of my music onto cd's for the car.
I have a minimalist wardrobe of old ratty t-shirts and like items.

I am going camping. And YOU can't stop me.

Usually Andrew gets up around the same time that I get downstairs in the morning (7? 7:15?) And most of the time we have breakfast together (meaning that he looks at whatever I'm having and says "hey! I want some!" So I give him some. And most of the time, I kid you not, he eats a little, smacks his lips, and says, "Hmm. Not bad, not bad.") And there's a special way to talk to Andrew, too:

Andrew: I wanna play Mario Kart!
Me: Okay, so go play.
Andrew: Can you turn it on?
Me: No, I'm making a smoothie. You can turn it on yourself.
Andrew: (angrily) But I don't WANT to turn it on.
Me: Oh, so you can't take your little finger and push the "On" button and start playing?
Andrew: (not taking any of my crap.) No.
Me: Well, I guess you can't play then, dorkface.
Andrew: YOU'RE a dork, dork!
Me: No. YOU'RE a dork.
Both: dork!

:::pause:::stare each other down::::

Both: DORK!!

:::pause:::more staring::::

Me: Dork!
Andrew: (at the same time) Dorkdorkdorkdorkdorkdorkdork!!

Me: :::under my breath, so he can't hear::: damnitt...


I hate losing...

This one goes out to you, radio disc jockeys of America: STOP calling it "Hump Day." STOP. And don't call it "Manic Monday,"either. And, in general, a little more sarcasm and a little less sunshine in the morning would do us all a little good.

Disclaimer: You are in no way required to read this blog. Chances are greater than not that you are not dating me, and as such are not obligated to listen to any amount of my bitching. (And BJ, you are even exempt from this one because, in all likelihood, you have already dutifully sat through many a tirade concerning the same subject.) That is all.

Excerpt from the No-Workouts-Allowed Journal, Day 7:
I am going effing crazy. I feel gross. And sedentary. And the only control I have over my health right now lies in my diet. So tomorrow, no muffins. No chips. Nothing other than those foods that will contribute to my general physical well being. I am no less than at war with my steadily enlarging stomach and my increasingly saggy butt.

I will best this. I will be victorious.

I have been a very angry woman lately. I am angry at fat. I am angry that the things that we put into our mouths so aggregiously effect the surface area of our thighs. I am angry that I have yet to exist comfortably in a bikini. I am angry that I am doomed to become a middle aged woman. Probably one who looks funny in pants.

:::::sigh of relief::: I feel stangely better now.


Oh my God, I am so weird...


In other news! I have discovered the secret to working/reading/writing peacefully in the cafe at Barnes and Noble. The secret is earphones. Earphones= Leave me. The hell. ALONE. I had a great two hours or so, just doing some reading (Dickens...almost against my will...) and drinking some sort of real coffee while being allowed to remain completely anti-social.

SO weird. :::shakes head at herself:::