yeahimadork.com

I’m not using page breaks, because I think those stupid lines honk up my formatting. So if it seems random that I switch from one nail-biting topic to another, that’s why.

I watch the show Workout on Bravo. I wonder if I write Jackie a letter and tell her my sob story if she’d train me for free? I’d be willing to drive there a few times a week for a free trainer.

I have been struggling like crazy controlling what I eat. I’m pretty angry at myself, because I was so diligent, and so dedicated, and then - as with everything else in my life, one little slip starts a snowball effect where I’m having much more than I’m supposed to be having. It’s a frustration that’s hard for me to express to most people. For example, my dad was doing some work on my car tonight, and I was watching my mom make guacamole and nachos. She was telling me some stupid story about my sister, and all I could do was watch her mash up those avocados, and imagine how good it would be on a chip with a huge glob of melted cheese and sour cream on it. I didn’t hear anything she said.

I liken it to putting crack in front of Whitney Houston and telling her NOT to smoke it. That’s how I felt. It sounds silly, but it’s true. So as soon as my dad gave me my keys, I bolted. I felt stupid.

I still have two months before my surgery, and while I’m not losing at the pace I was before, I’m still losing (albeit very slowly, and slower than my surgeon would like). I just need to find my motivation and get back to where I was before.

Stupid weight.

I know ( I KNOW) I say this every week, but this time I mean it. I am NOT watching fucking 24 EVER AGAIN. I’m so sick of it I can’t stand it. It’s retarded. I’m done with Jack Bauer, I tell you. DONE.

You know, I don’t understand why everyone hates Simon Cowell. I’ve been watching this crapfest American Idol this season, and I have to say he is definitely my favorite of those dopey judges. I’m glad Simon told Melinda to stop with the “wow, I’m so incredibly humble that I had no idea I had any singing talent whatsoever even though I am a professional back-up singer” look she has any time anyone praises her. It was cute in the beginning, but it seems very contrived now.

Joey, OF COURSE I watched the I Love New York reunion AND Flavor of Love Charm School. I was glad to see my girl Buckwild (I will not call her Becky - she will always be Buckwild to me, dammit) back on TV. At first I thought she was an act, but I really think that’s her. And I love her. I was also glad Bootz and Bucky (I don’t remember their real names) were back, too. Those girls can talk some trash.

I’ve become such a hoar for the trash TV.

Today at work, I was talking to my favorite co-worker, Pumpkin, on the phone. While my co-worker, Old Andria, is always amused by the shit-talking of our conversations, Celestia is always seething with jealousy when we talk (she is jealous of our friendship, and always has been). Pumpkin is from Nicaragua, but everyone pretty much assumes anyone in California with brown hair and brown eyes is a Mexican. So I always refer to her as Mexican, and tell her to work on her English, because “I don’t speak Mexican.” (But I would never really want her to improve it too much, because she doesn’t understand certain English phrases, and sends me emails that say things like, What does “tivers me shimbers mean?” I love her.) This is, of course, a joke. Today we were talking. Most of our crap-talking has to do with her making fun of me being white and her being Mexican. An email was sent to HR Boss not long after.

Pumpkin: I gotta get out of this apartment. It’s too ghetto. I feel like a nappy-headed ho, man.
Andria: Me too, sister. That’s ’cause we’re livin’ the thug life in the ghetto.
Pumpkin: Why don’t you tell your man to buy you a house at the beach?
Andria: Stop hating, sister. Just because I spent all week funding deals* doesn’t mean you have to be bitter about it, dear. I need a better job for a better apartment.
Pumpkin: Man, why don’t you go get a job at an Indian casino, then?
Andria: DUDE, my dad’s family is Native American. Forget that, I’ll open my own casino!! Then you can come work for me. I mean, we’ll need janitorial staff. Hahahahahahahahahahahaha.

I have NO idea where she came up with the Indian casino shit, but that’s why I love her.

Anyway, “someone” sent an email saying that since the “nappy-headed hos” incident, maybe racial humor “isn’t appropriate”. Whatthefuckever.

*We’re retarded. We refer to sex as “funding deals” because we think we’re SO clever.

I KNOW.