ROBIEWANKENOBIE

srsly? srsly. in a vry srs bidness way.

i'm working on losing weight. ugh. it's soooooooooooo boring. all this exercising and checking portion sizes and shit. damn. it just feels like homework. i just wish it was more like, shut your piehole. come join us at our kickball game. but noooooooooooooooooooo. it's all measure this. measure that. work out on some boring machine or do some stupid videos. i'd join a gym but that makes everything even more tedious and boring. and then it's all like, yo. not only are you doing boring shit, but you should also do some boring motherfucking shit over there, too.

fucking shin splints. i swear. i had 'em when i played field hockey. i had 'em when i did couch potato to 5 k. i can't get rid of the damn things. start up slow? shin splints. jump right in? shin splints. ice before? shin splints. ice after? shin splints. ice before and after? shin splints. heat? mother fuckity fucking shin splints. i mean, what the hell.

i need to find one of those television shows to whisk me away to some stupid place out west. yeah, it looks brutal or whatever, but i'm sure they can prevent shin splints through the magic of teevee. or that doctor on staff or something. also? i'm pretty damn sure that they will wash your clothes and let you fucking go to sleep early at night without waking up ten gabzillion times to tell you that they can't sleep and then you walk by an hour later on your way to the bathroom and there they are reading a book because they can't go to sleep without a book and then you find them passed out on the sofa like a drunken frat boy.

i'd rather just live with richard simmons for a month or two. srsly? before i had kids and that stupid bout of surgery after surgery bullshit, i was only ever really fat the once. and i went by a mirror sideways and i realized that it was like an invisible string was pulling me by my bellybutton. i thought, hrm. i'm a fatass. i started sweating through the oldies or some such bullshit. it was hilarious. and then i moved on to figure skating which is the fucking bomb. if i had enough money to go back to that? shiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiit, son. that's the bullshit right there.

so, yeah. don't mind me if i go and figure out how many calories i had at breakfast. it's going to be thrilling.