185, down 1.6
Yes, that’s my weigh in from yesterday because I never got around to writing a post yesterday. It’s all this fresh Montana air. It’s got me in a sort of state. Actually it’s quite lovely and I would move back to Bozeman in a heartbeat if that didn’t require having three to seven jobs(none of which are in any way related to my actual supposed career path) and living in a basement apartment near campus for the low, low price of holy shit, how much?
Or maybe it’s just the crazy sciatic issues I’ve been dealing with for the past week. After I drove for two days. While my husband, well…didn’t. Two chiropractor appointments(with a wonderful man, who appeared to have been the mold from which all chiropractor stereotypes originated), several workouts and a massage later I’m still seizing up in the hip region. Actually more like the gluteus maximus region. Y’all, I’ve got a pain in my motherfucking ass. Of the literal sort and variety. And I’ve got two more days trapped in the car with a terrible two and a feral husband. #karmaisabitch
Let’s wrap up the Next Food Network Star dealio. Jeff won, loves it. I think he took it home because he really was able to carry his POV(sammichs) through in every challenge, in every episode from start to finis. And he did it while being accessible, relatable and charming. Kudos, The Sandwich King. I have summoned the DVR goddess to record your show so I can view at my leisure. I am a lady of the leisure. At night after I put my kid to bed, eat dinner and clean up the kitchen that is. #livingthedream
So y’all know I like to pimp out peeps and cats that tickle my fancy or mah funny bonz. This guy (scroll down to Flash…Boom!)does amazing stuff with timelapse video and is no slouch in the photog departmente(Spanish flair, ole!) He’s peddling his wares in Manhattan, MT today at the potato festival, which I’m assuming is a clever disguise to get dranked on some hillbilly vodka. So, of course, I was packed and ready to go until my husband said blah, blah, blah three hour drive each way. Blah, blah, blah child abuse. Blah, blah, blah 15 years relatively off the sauce(sauce=cocaine=story for another day). Except for actual sauce. Because that is like life blood to my pasta loving behind.
Oh, and I gots no zombies this week so I’m ending on a cute drunk chick with a complicated relationship with cheese. *jazz hands*