The Napkin Diaries

because i've sat on my ass and drank alcohol for the past 5 years of my life, i've become a little... out of shape. i know i'm not a cow or horribly obese, but i used to have tricep muscles and a hotter ass and whatnot. so because i have been bitching nonstop for about a year about what a fatty i've become, mom and dad bought me a personal trainer. or, paid for me to have one. whatever. so i will meet with rhonda the wonder woman for 11 more sessions in hopes of becoming a fabulously sexy bitch.
today was our first official session and, oh my god, i've never felt pain like this. i did lunges, leg presses, leg curls, leg lifts, standing lunges, 20 minutes of moderate intensity cardio, some crazy bending exercise with the big ball, and lastly... the throw downs. you know, the things where you hold on to someone's ankles and they throw your legs to the floor and you have to bring them back up just so they can throw them down again? aka: torture. i didn't even know you could work these muscles... well, places where muscles should be. good gah. so needless to say, i don't think i can walk anymore.
oh yeah, and she's making me keep a food journal, which is smart because now i won't put bad things into my mouth because i will know i will have to write them down. and then wonder woman rhonda will be disappointed. and we cannot have that. so no more cheese and mayo sandwiches with a side of ice cream. damn. so watch out, bitches, i'm about to be hardcore.

okay, so there is this girl that i've had a couple of classes with throughout the past year. nice girl. smart. but has this one really serious issue that might lead to me developing serious issues. she enunciates like there is no tomorrow. you know how some people mumble and act like they have 17 marbles in their mouths when attempting conversation? well this chick apparently is trying to make up for marble mouth by completely overcomensating. she's like "to.day. i. will. tell. you. a.bout. ser.i.ous. al.co.hol. a.buse. pro.gram.s." holy shit. like really, it's hard to not burst into laughter... or tears, for that matter when listening to her present something. but then, on random occassions, she'll revert back to marble mouth, and i cannot for the life of me understand what the hell has caused this girl to have such difficulties with speech!
so to, um, make matters more in.ter.est.ing. she's in my group. shit. stupid group work. i mean, everyone knows she likes to take.her.moth.er.f.bomb.time.whi.le.speak.in.g. so i don't think i will be judged for having her in my group. and anyway, we're counselors, we aren't allowed to judge. so yeah, luckily i only have 8 classes left. well actually, crap, she's in both classes, so i will see her 16 more times in my life. damn.it.

i'm really starting to become obsessive with myspace. okay no, that's a lie. i'm really starting to realize how obsessive i've been for so long... so i was periodically checking to see if i (cross your fingers) had any new messages. and i did. yes! so i look to see what i have and it's from joe and it says "important" as the subject. i start thinking "oh no, something bad... like he knocked out a tooth... fell out a window... took a pledge of sobriety... there was no more karaoke with ed miller." you know, tragedies. so, i open the message only to find this as the contents:

my hips don't lie.

and that was all. i should have known it would be important. just not urgent. and sometimes i confuse the two. so yes joe, you were correct, it is vital that you're hips, in fact, tell only the truth. because lying hips just don't cut it these days.

so i went to my first pawn shop the other day. i was actually scared to go in. i had no idea what to expect crazy pawn people to be like. surprisingly, they were normal...ish. see, i decided i needed to get rid of some old shit from some old boyfriend. i mean, i told him that he could have the ring back. he said i could keep it. so i pawned the bitch. thanks for the $100.
here is my philosophy on the promise ring: a promise ring is pretty much the equivalent of a dog pissing on a tree. it's like, "hey, this is my shit. i'm not gonna do anything with it. but it's mine. so there." this insight was recieved from my new friend michelle from class. pretty genius. and so true. i mean, come on, if you want to marry a girl, give her an engagement ring. a big one at that. don't give her some dinky ring that means "i might want to marry you one day. but not now. so just wait til i'm ready." um, no. so yeah, like i said, thanks for the 100 bucks.

okay, do you know how annoyed i am with frickin truckers? holy.frickin.crap. so, as you may know, i'm driving a ton this summer. and i mean, all i want to do is get from destination A to B. real simple, right? well, it would be awesome if nasty old trucker men would stop honking at me. GAH. so gay. seriously, i got beeped at 3 times on the way to charleston and 2 times on the way back. ooooh, big deal, girl driving sports car. get over it. get a life. get out of mine. why are some men so dumb? and please tell me how many times any man has gotten any woman by doing any of the following: honking, shouting, whistling, gawking, grabbing, harassing, or dropping raunchy pickup lines? come.on.
and while we're talking about it. well, actually we aren't. but why the hell can people not drive? i mean, if i see a car coming up behind me doing 83 mph, i move over. difficult, i know. instead, when i prefer to do 83 mph, trucks and other stupid vehicles such as the mini van and ugly scion box things prefer to get in my way. i mean ludacris made a song about this people. it's called "move, bitch, get out th' way." jesus. stupid truckers. stupid drivers. damnit, i need a drink.