Revelation #1: Holidays = Holiday travel which equals fast food. Normally that would excite me. However, when one is forced to eat "Turnpike Trash" the glamour fades. If you've ever traveled along the PA turnpike you may have had the occasion to stop at one of those Vegas like mini-cities along the way. Picture this....driving for hours around curvy mountain roads with no sign of gas, human life or food....until...out of nowhere you see neon lights and signs denoting civilization. You are forced to stop out of fear you will never see life again...ever. After exiting via a road that exclusively delivers you into this new found wonderland you begin to feel the excitement that only food and urination can bring. Any jubilation brought on by the thought of a Starbucks and a Roy Rogers right smack next to each other is quickly put to rest by the "wildlife" that lurks amongst this fine roadside penitentiary. I ask you this....where can you find illegal aliens, convicts, child molesters and that kid who wore the helmet on the short bus all in one place? At the PA Turnpike Vegas Style Roadside Stop. I will say one positive thing. I peed and was not murdered. That's about it. My Roy Rogers roast beef smelled like dog shit. Perhaps the English as a first language classes put me at a disadvantage and there was some sort of mix up. Can't be sure. I know this...Roy Rogers would have fallen off his horse had he seen who was in his employ. So I moved on to Starbucks. Their sign read "Open 24 Hours." A sure bet right? It's coffee. Who fucks that up? Don't answer that....allow me. I made a simple request: 1 cup of Decaf and 1 Decaf Skim Latte. The answer, "We don't have any decaf but I can make you the Latte." Just how would that be possible? Well, it seems they stop brewing Decaf after 9pm but the Latte was $10 Decaf so it was feasible. I was beyond confused. Had I asked for Decaf coffee at a 24 hour burger joint, telling me they weren't brewing it after 9pm would have made perfect sense. Asking for coffee at a 24 hour coffee joint and being told that they aren't brewing it made me Larry David style angry! Had I not felt my life to be in danger, I may have indulged the Barrista in a game of "Here's your Sign." Instead, I decided to leave, dial 1-800-CrimeTV and let John Walsh have a field day with this 24 hour freak show. I fear mountain people. I vow to never go to PA again. Sorry. I like Decaf after 9...and my life.
Revaluation #2: Fat girls shouldn't wear sequins. One would think this would go without saying. However comma, there's always that fatty (me) who thinks it's cute to wrap 787 pounds of cellulite in tiny gold disks and show it off at the holiday party. There's nothing like watching the light rebound off of a super-sized figurine perched at the buffet. Blinding. That's what it is. Unless there's music. In which case we have an instant disco ball. So aside from illumination and humiliation, I can't think of one reason going naked wouldn't be a better decision. That's all I have to say about that.
Revaluation #3: Biting the candy as opposed to referring to label on the box is acceptable. My personal favorite. Allow me to splain...why take time to read what's in the box when you can just bite it and see for yourself. Saves time. Not to mention....a true SIF already knows by the shape and texture just what she's about to eat. The real reason this works...no one will attempt to eat your candy if you bite half of every piece. That's a fact. Russell Stover really needs to change the line up. I got it mastered. Oh and Russell, no one likes the lemon ones. They taste like chocolate Pinesol. Stop being cheap and throw in some more nugget filled ones. Bastard.
Revaluation #4: Don't pretend to like gifts that suck. I'm over it. Getting a plastic bird in a cage at 37 is no laughing matter. Even when it comes from an 87 year old woman who calls herself Grandma. If she's that senile she should be in a home. Locked away...no key. So this year I decided to tell her what I thought. "Thanks for the bird. You do realize I'm 37. I already live in a cage with something that doesn't listen and is basically useless...but thanks for providing me a replica of my miserable life." She can't hear so it works as long as I'm smiling. Then she has my Mom tell me, " Tell her I got her the bird bcs she's a Byrd." I in fact heard her say it, so why it had to go through the chain of command I'm not quite sure. This is why it's not always advantageous to marry someone with a last name that can be used against you. I want to plot a similar gift for her next year but she's been married 8x...makes the joke kinda tricky.
Finally my favorite day of the year... New Years-diet Sunday (that's the Monday after New Years. It's bad luck to diet on the first). I've vowed for the 37th time that this will be the year I jump to the other side. I've been binge eating all day. In fact, when I'm done with this post, I have some Tirmisu waiting for me. ** Pause....I just got up and ate it. Typing it put the taste in my mouth and I had to have it. I can see tomorrow is going to be a breeze.** I vow to eat until midnight, at which time I go back to the house arrest band that monitors my every move. That's the only way I'll ever lose a pound...24 hour supervision. As soon as I lose that pound it's coming off. Maybe I should take Grandma's warped analogy and make it work for me...I'm a Byrd so I should eat like a bird. Yeah but I'm like....Big Bird and I fear he gets in his calories. I'll keep trying. How many days til I have to show skin again? I have time!
No comments:
Post a Comment