Ahhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhh, Mardi Gras, we meet again.
Ahhhhhhhhhhhhh.
Yuhhhhhhhhhhp.
Mmmhmmm.
Yehhhhhhhhp.
First of all, did I participate in today's festivities?
Half-assed.
Considering that I don't eat dairy and my carb count is ultra low, I don't really give a fuck about gorging on food.
Drinking's out of the question as well... since I'd rather EAT my calories-- heaping slice of chocolate cake... peanut butter cupcakes... BROWNIES! Yeah man, I'd overdose on that good ol' sugar over drinking myself silly.
But to each their own.
However, since it IS Pancake Day, I DID make myself three almond protein pancakes... topped with agave-nectar-sprinked banana slices (that were also sprinkled with cardamom. Shit is BOMB! Try it, PLEASE! You'll thank me later).
I also went "crazy" and had some string cheese.
I finished it off with some nice carne asada.
That was me going crazy for Fat Tuesday... in preparation for tomorrow's fasting to kick off good ol' Lent season.
This past week, I've wrestled with what I'm going to give up this year.
I'm definitely not giving up cussing. That's just never going to happen.
I'll lessen it, I'll settle for that. I can handle that. However, it's definitely staying in my life because I become extremely frazzled/frustrated and angry without cuss words.
So
1. Take it easy with the cuss words.
I'll also smile.
2. Smile, idiot.
3. Play nice, asshole.
I'm really mean. REALLY, really mean. I make my poor momma sad. That's never cool.
4. Shut your face and move on.
I harp on shit... and run at the mouth as of recently. Serious apology to my poor followers. Definitely has to stop.
5. Don't. Talk. Shit.
Ohhhh baby. This one's getting the best of me. In the last month, I've felt on the verge of exploding because far too many people are getting a hold of my shit. I now only have this spot to vent. I say this because Pacemaker has found my twitter and instagram (DEAR LORD! Do I fucking love instagram!) accounts... and that girl... she's the fucking town crier. I say something right now, and the entire bay area knows in five minutes... Hometown finds out within three hours.
It feels like I have the meanest muzzle on. It's a terrible feeling. Incredibly frustrating. Like I have an anvil on my chest (agonizing pain that has managed to fuck me up physically. I've been so distracted at the gym--place where I supposedly vent my frustrations by lifting heavy shit AND by kicking/punching like a wild boar-- that I've managed to fuck up my left rotator cuff AND my lower lumbar region. Never clean-and-press/clean-and-jerk while thinking of someone who pisses you off... you'll live to regret it, kids).
So... in hopes of not hurting too many feelings (I don't know why I fucking care to spare so many fucking feelings, but I do. Because I'm an idiot), I hope to just shut the fuck up and bottle shit up until I have time to go out into the mountains and just break shit out of people's sight/ear-shot.
Plain and simple: I'll be a good, happy girl.
I'll also do that usual meatless-Friday thing we Catholics have been doing for centuries or whatever.
Fingers crossed I don't suffer a motherfucking stroke within the next 40 days.
Yeeeee-haaawwww!
Expect to see things added tomorrow... you know, once this fucking sugar high has died down (so I've kinda been snacking on some mini snickers/starbursts while typing this shit up... and a couple of MuscleMilk Protein Bars... those things... magic. Fucking magic. Gotta get those in before midnight strikes and fasting time begins. I'm such a glutenous, cheating little bitch) and my mind has cleared and I'm all holy and whatnot.
Christ, that was a meanass run-on sentence.
Ahhhhhhhhhhhhh.
Yuhhhhhhhhhhp.
Mmmhmmm.
Yehhhhhhhhp.
First of all, did I participate in today's festivities?
Half-assed.
Considering that I don't eat dairy and my carb count is ultra low, I don't really give a fuck about gorging on food.
Drinking's out of the question as well... since I'd rather EAT my calories-- heaping slice of chocolate cake... peanut butter cupcakes... BROWNIES! Yeah man, I'd overdose on that good ol' sugar over drinking myself silly.
But to each their own.
However, since it IS Pancake Day, I DID make myself three almond protein pancakes... topped with agave-nectar-sprinked banana slices (that were also sprinkled with cardamom. Shit is BOMB! Try it, PLEASE! You'll thank me later).
I also went "crazy" and had some string cheese.
I finished it off with some nice carne asada.
That was me going crazy for Fat Tuesday... in preparation for tomorrow's fasting to kick off good ol' Lent season.
This past week, I've wrestled with what I'm going to give up this year.
I'm definitely not giving up cussing. That's just never going to happen.
I'll lessen it, I'll settle for that. I can handle that. However, it's definitely staying in my life because I become extremely frazzled/frustrated and angry without cuss words.
So
1. Take it easy with the cuss words.
I'll also smile.
2. Smile, idiot.
3. Play nice, asshole.
I'm really mean. REALLY, really mean. I make my poor momma sad. That's never cool.
4. Shut your face and move on.
I harp on shit... and run at the mouth as of recently. Serious apology to my poor followers. Definitely has to stop.
5. Don't. Talk. Shit.
Ohhhh baby. This one's getting the best of me. In the last month, I've felt on the verge of exploding because far too many people are getting a hold of my shit. I now only have this spot to vent. I say this because Pacemaker has found my twitter and instagram (DEAR LORD! Do I fucking love instagram!) accounts... and that girl... she's the fucking town crier. I say something right now, and the entire bay area knows in five minutes... Hometown finds out within three hours.
It feels like I have the meanest muzzle on. It's a terrible feeling. Incredibly frustrating. Like I have an anvil on my chest (agonizing pain that has managed to fuck me up physically. I've been so distracted at the gym--place where I supposedly vent my frustrations by lifting heavy shit AND by kicking/punching like a wild boar-- that I've managed to fuck up my left rotator cuff AND my lower lumbar region. Never clean-and-press/clean-and-jerk while thinking of someone who pisses you off... you'll live to regret it, kids).
So... in hopes of not hurting too many feelings (I don't know why I fucking care to spare so many fucking feelings, but I do. Because I'm an idiot), I hope to just shut the fuck up and bottle shit up until I have time to go out into the mountains and just break shit out of people's sight/ear-shot.
Plain and simple: I'll be a good, happy girl.
I'll also do that usual meatless-Friday thing we Catholics have been doing for centuries or whatever.
Fingers crossed I don't suffer a motherfucking stroke within the next 40 days.
Yeeeee-haaawwww!
Expect to see things added tomorrow... you know, once this fucking sugar high has died down (so I've kinda been snacking on some mini snickers/starbursts while typing this shit up... and a couple of MuscleMilk Protein Bars... those things... magic. Fucking magic. Gotta get those in before midnight strikes and fasting time begins. I'm such a glutenous, cheating little bitch) and my mind has cleared and I'm all holy and whatnot.
Christ, that was a meanass run-on sentence.
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