Just a note: if you find yourself in a debate over which fast-food chain's chicken sandwiches are better, you might want to consider that you have the diet preferences of a 10-year old, and perhaps work on finding a little more culinary culture, or at least a healthier diet.

Am I one to talk? Is my diet perfectly healthy? Hell no. But deep fried chicken sandwiches aren't a point of debate for me, and I would rather patronize locally owned, and developed establishments rather than a national chain that either doesn't give two shits about the markets they invade, or spread bigotry against marginalized groups through their religious rhetoric, while using their employees' generous nature as a national marketing campaign as if the company is the good-doers, and not the individual slaving for them at minimum wage.

How's that for a start this week?

Stop Talking - Stop Walking - Stop Breathing.

In an open workspace design, even being a cubicle farm, I find it ridiculously rude when people are constantly walking around, and talking at loud volumes. What part of other people work here don't you get?

And what is it going to take for some of you to stop pissing on everything in the restrooms? For fuck sake, what are you, toddlers without daddy helping you aim? And why do so many of you breathe so heavily once you're in the restroom? You sound like Darth Vader gasping for air. Maybe if you weren't outside smoking every 30 minutes you wouldn't be a mouth breather after that exhausting ride up the elevator.

The Weight

214. Same. Consistent. Apparently I need to do better though. This lumpy, ugly body I've lived in my whole life obviously isn't cutting it on the attractivity scale. Five visits to the gym last week. This week started with other things I had to do on my lunch break, but I'll get there today. There's no shortcuts, but my body seems very slow to respond to anything. When I was in college I'd work out all the time and never see results. I'm seeing more results now, but so slowly.  It's been almost three and a half years since I got my first gym membership. I guess I can only keep going, and hope things start to take better shape, but my experience tells me, that is highly unlikely. 

I'm wearing my grumpy pants today. I'm allowed. Being grumpy is allowed sometimes. This is one of those times.

FIN.