Since nothing in my life is currently meaty enough to warrant its own post, I’m doing a random round-up (unintentional catchy phrase FTW!) of events and observations. Here we go:
1. Saturday morning I did a breast cancer 5K walk. I don’t have any pictures of the event because 1) I’m not that much of a shutter-bug and 2) I tend to shy away from being in photos because no matter how much I weigh or what my dress size is, I always look like I’m 357 pounds. Or mentally-challenged. Or both. Seriously. I’m at the point where I’m running approximately 6 miles a week and cross-training (some) when I’m not running. I’m looking better in my clothes. My legs are getting stronger and seem to be building more lean muscle. I’m feeling good about myself overall. But the photos I’m in? I look almost exactly the same as I did before I started running and eating healthier. I look, maybe, like I weigh 350 pounds instead of 357. And if I don’t look morbidly obese, I look like I’m mentally-challenged. I know I’m no size 4, and with my body type, I probably never will be, but come on, Camera. Give me a frigging break. I’m tempted to one day get some boudoir photos done just so I’ll have some photos that are actually flattering so the next time I’m out with friends, and photos of me surface that look like I have three chins and not a clue in my frigging head, I can pull out the boudoir photos and build back my crumbled self-esteem.
However, I did take two pictures. You see, the event had food trucks, glorious food trucks. My inner hipster did somersaults, then remembered that it was too cool for somersaults, and put on an air of disinterest. But we both knew. Food trucks are a delight.
After inspecting each and every food truck, I settled on one called The Dude and His Food. The name alone sounded like it had some good eats. And boy, did it! I ordered a sandwich called The Dude Goes to Mexico, which, according to its menu, had, “Shaved Prime Rib, Creamy Queso Cheese, Onions, Jalapeno Peppers, Shreddes Lettuce, and Diced Tomato. Finished with Salsa and Sour Cream… All Piled into a Warm Hoagie Roll.” It was yum-o.
The moral of the story of this mini-post is that I don’t always take pictures, but when I do, they’re of food.
2. I bought a pink bra on my lunch break a few days before the breast cancer walk. The theme was, “Put on your pink bra,” so we all had to wear pink decorated bras on the outside of our clothes. I didn’t get around to decorating my bra, so I missed the memo that said it should reflect my personality. When I got home after buying my bra, I read the bit about it reflecting your personality, and was concerned because I was afraid my bra’s personality said, “whore:”
Then I got over it because whores deserve healthy boobies too, right? FYI, if you don’t agree with me, that makes you a whorecist, which is someone who is bigoted toward whores. Don’t be bigoted toward whores. That’s just being an asshole.
3. “Let’s Have a Kiki” is the song, “Money Can’t Buy You Class” wants to be when it grows up. See for yourself:
“Let’s Have a Kiki”
“Money Can’t Buy You Class”
E for Effort, Countess. Your song is the type I’d hang on my refrigerator, not because it’s particularly good, but because I find it cute that you’re so proud of it.
That is all.