So apparently, not stuffing your face with fried chicken, ranch and bacon every day and working up a sweat makes you lose weight.
Huh. Who knew?
No seriously, who knew? Someone should really market that. I bet you could make a lot of money. Especially if you put into some sort of program or book. You could tell people what to eat and just how many lunges they need to do before their legs fall off. People would totally eat that shit up. Metaphorically, of course, because you know dieting and all.
I really don't want this to be a weight loss blog, but I HAVE NOTHING ELSE TO SAY! I mean, I know my life appears interesting and fabulous and all. But honestly? Not all that interesting.
In fact, it's pretty lame.
Thus, WEIGHT LOSS POST!
The husband has lost seven pounds to my six. This fact totally does not make me want to tie him to a chair and shove fistfuls of lard into his face. Because it's not a competition.
It totally is. The husband and I compete all the time. He often doesn't even know we're competing until I declare, "haha! I won!" And he's all "won what?" And I'm like, "duh." And then he sort of just gives me this look that may or may not say you are a mental person, but I never care because I'm basking in the euphoria of my recent win.
Are you guys loving how totally lame this post is? Yeah, me neither.
But I bet you're totally loving how awesome it is making you. You're welcome.
You know what's great about writing a really lame post like this on this particular day?
This particular day just happens to be mah birfday. So, even if you think this is the most craptastic thing you have ever read, you still have to say nice things to me.
I haven't really been looking forward to this birthday, but then last night I got really excited because this last year of my life? Has sucked balls. No you dirty perves, not those balls. Just balls in general.
So I'm totally ready to kiss the last year of my life goodbye. Sayonara bitch! Au revoir! Arrivederci! Good riddance!
I would tell you how old I am, but my paranoia prevents me from doing so. What exactly am I paranoid about? Well, if you know my age then you know the year I was born, which means you have the vital information you need to assume my identity. And who wouldn't want to do that? Because contrary to what I said at the beginning of this post, my life? Pretty freaking awesome.
I think I've wasted enough of your time. Thanks for coming to mah birfday party!
I bet you didn't even know you were at a party, did you? I mean, I'm sure you had some idea because this post positively screamed good party happy happy fun time. But it did lack certain beverages of the alcohol variety. So I could see how you weren't exactly sure.
Thanks in advance for all the awesome presents!