listen to john

2015/01/img_4758.jpg

why do I listen to silly rules about when to sleep with someone, when to call, when not to call, when to text, what not to text but choose to ignore what is arguably the best dating advice ever given? In the works of Carrie Bradshaw “am I a masochist?”

also discovered today, the best way to cure a romantic “burn” (we won’t call it heartbreak, there weren’t as many feelings or much time involved… Or for that matter…) is cooking, talking, coffee, Wegman’s samples, whiskey, cookies, and sushi. And maybe pizza. (Yes I am still counting points. It is not pretty…)

2015/01/img_4760.png

dieting while dating…

dieting is for sure the most difficult and challenging thing I have ever done, save for dating. attempting both at the same time is extremely hazardous and not for the faint of heart.

is it better to call the asshat and not eat a half a pizza? Or do you eat the pizza and ignore the asshat?

stacked || restaurant week

restaurant week started off, dare I say- bland. booking lunch at a Latin establishment in the mall was a terrible mistake I will hear about for years to come. no I did not know it was in the mall. Yes we should have left when we got there.

The Capital Grille, however, turned the restaurant week experience around. Being, well, me (ridiculous! a heavy burden, the ridiculousness) I ate light (yogurt, banana, salmon salad, multiple starbucks coffees) all day in anticipation of gorging myself on surf and turf. And played the full on healthy eating martyr, of course. “Oh I’m just having a banana” or “no rice for me, only salad please.”
The problem with this plan started when I ordered not one but two dirty martinis prior to dinner, on an empty stomach (#drunkbeforedinner is the hashtag I have developed to commemorate the experience…) Which, if you know anything about drinking vodka on an empty an stomach after eating “clean” all day, you’ll probably also know what happened next. The bread basket! Oh the bread basket, my personal road to destruction… My weakness, bread and butter, only to be matched in affection and horror by the bottomless tortilla chip basket! What I’m trying to say is I love carbs and I ate ALL OF THEM. Before any real food had been served. And there was so much real food! Caesar and Wedge Salads, Filet Mignon with grilled Shrimp, mashed potatoes, green beans, creme brûlée, fancy flourless lovely chocolate cake, we came we saw we are it ALL.

I came home STUFFED. Full on food coma; I fantasized about taking my pants off and lying on my bed, moaning “I’m so full”. I was greeted in the foyer by a package! Usually packages elicit a deceleration of “I love packages!” often sung. This package however was greeted with an “oh, shit”. Because, this package contained new JEANS.

DENIM.

In a size I wasn’t quite sure would fit, but needed to both for my ego and wallet. (One of those “I’m in between sizes but I won’t buy the bigger size because I’m supposed to be losing weight decisions” which I’m sure you’re familiar with, oh you know if you’re a person!)

I brought the package upstairs, opening it immediately, eager to get the fitting over with, before I was without the energy or nerve. There was a short prayer, much wiggling, and a few squats and then they were on… And my ass looked SPECTACULAR!

So spectacular that I promptly wiggled out of them, and passed out* for a two hour nap! Sheer exhaustion from a job well done… Both the steak consumption and denim wiggling…

*at 10:35pm (which might explain why I’m up writing this now…)

2015/01/img_4631.jpg

2015/01/img_4634.jpg

2015/01/img_4633.jpg

2015/01/img_4635.jpg