oh I'm an idiot
Jun. 11th, 2005 08:25 am![[personal profile]](https://www.dreamwidth.org/img/silk/identity/user.png){kind=small}
dragonlady7I was bushwhacked, so I went to bed at like 11 last night. It took me a while to fall asleep. I had an excellent, excellent idea for my barbarians-novel. Holy cow was it excellent. I don't know how to write it yet, though. I need about six hours to ruminate on it. But, no dice: work today.
I then proceeded (after pondering for ages about B-Novel) to dream of Ecthelion, which was odd. Since I don't dream about the stuff I write. Ever.
I don't remember what i dreamed. It wasn't sexy, though. It was rather boringly complicated. I believe there was some sort of overly complex situation of some kind. And so he was mostly just being inscrutable and puzzled, as opposed to sexy.
I know, I know, I'm really not much of a slash fangirl. I need to work harder at this. Inspire me, people.
Woke early this morning, six thirtyish, and watched the red sunrise-beams sliding along my wall. Thrashed around a while, in denial about being awake. But, crawled out of bed, and by seven had convinced self to start exercise.
Decided to be ambitious, and so did not only abdominal exercises and full-body stretching, but also... arm weights.
Durr. I am about to go do an 8-hour shift as a cocktail waitress. Durr. Let's tire out my arms. Durr. Yes. That is a good idea. Durrr!
Then went for a jog, and the iPod actually managed to work for the whole thing, unlike last time when it let me down halfway through Parliament's greatest hits. (I didn't even get to Psychoalphadiscobetabioaquadoloop! Bastards. It died halfway through Up For The Down Stroke.)
So yes, I went jogging to Less Than Jake. I think I'm down to an eleven-minute mile now. So proud. It's only 75 but it's humid, and so I got home and poured rainwater down my back and noticed no appreciable difference. Gross, dude. (But did I mention that Apple Inc. owes me money? I should do something about that.)
Dave was awake, lounging on his bed reading the funnies on his laptop. The boy has gorgeous legs, and by gorgeous legs I mean he could be a 1940s pinup girl, except he has no boobs. It's really upsetting. He had his gorgeous gams crossed and if it weren't for the hair and his size-10 feet... Man. I'm jealous of my boyfriend's legs. Is that sick? Probably. I have short thick-muscled dumpy legs, with calves like an Amazon. These are farmgirl legs. They're shit-kickin', heavy-thing-lifting legs. He has these long, lean, slender, curved legs... Bah. Maybe I am a raging bisexual after all. (See me rage! Rage! that my boyfriend would be hotter in drag than me!)
Gawsh, I'm in a rather loony mood this morning. I should probably sort out my tips from last night and go run some errands-- the bank, and the post office for Katy's care package-- if anyone wants to send random inspirational postcards to my sister in Baghdad, by the way, do let me know, as she's been rather bored lately and Mom's seventh graders have stopped writing-- where was I? I've lost the track of the sentence. Exercise is obviously bad for my brain. And guess what!! I haven't lost an ounce since I started this exercise program, nor have I lost an inch. Bah! It is now abundantly clear to me that the only way I can lose weight is to combine a total lifestyle change with an illness that leaves me unable to eat properly for days on end. Unfortunately i don't have the strength of insanity to starve myself otherwise. Which is probably for the best, in all other matters. But means I will never-- never!-- make it down to a size 12.
I then proceeded (after pondering for ages about B-Novel) to dream of Ecthelion, which was odd. Since I don't dream about the stuff I write. Ever.
I don't remember what i dreamed. It wasn't sexy, though. It was rather boringly complicated. I believe there was some sort of overly complex situation of some kind. And so he was mostly just being inscrutable and puzzled, as opposed to sexy.
I know, I know, I'm really not much of a slash fangirl. I need to work harder at this. Inspire me, people.
Woke early this morning, six thirtyish, and watched the red sunrise-beams sliding along my wall. Thrashed around a while, in denial about being awake. But, crawled out of bed, and by seven had convinced self to start exercise.
Decided to be ambitious, and so did not only abdominal exercises and full-body stretching, but also... arm weights.
Durr. I am about to go do an 8-hour shift as a cocktail waitress. Durr. Let's tire out my arms. Durr. Yes. That is a good idea. Durrr!
Then went for a jog, and the iPod actually managed to work for the whole thing, unlike last time when it let me down halfway through Parliament's greatest hits. (I didn't even get to Psychoalphadiscobetabioaquadoloop! Bastards. It died halfway through Up For The Down Stroke.)
So yes, I went jogging to Less Than Jake. I think I'm down to an eleven-minute mile now. So proud. It's only 75 but it's humid, and so I got home and poured rainwater down my back and noticed no appreciable difference. Gross, dude. (But did I mention that Apple Inc. owes me money? I should do something about that.)
Dave was awake, lounging on his bed reading the funnies on his laptop. The boy has gorgeous legs, and by gorgeous legs I mean he could be a 1940s pinup girl, except he has no boobs. It's really upsetting. He had his gorgeous gams crossed and if it weren't for the hair and his size-10 feet... Man. I'm jealous of my boyfriend's legs. Is that sick? Probably. I have short thick-muscled dumpy legs, with calves like an Amazon. These are farmgirl legs. They're shit-kickin', heavy-thing-lifting legs. He has these long, lean, slender, curved legs... Bah. Maybe I am a raging bisexual after all. (See me rage! Rage! that my boyfriend would be hotter in drag than me!)
Gawsh, I'm in a rather loony mood this morning. I should probably sort out my tips from last night and go run some errands-- the bank, and the post office for Katy's care package-- if anyone wants to send random inspirational postcards to my sister in Baghdad, by the way, do let me know, as she's been rather bored lately and Mom's seventh graders have stopped writing-- where was I? I've lost the track of the sentence. Exercise is obviously bad for my brain. And guess what!! I haven't lost an ounce since I started this exercise program, nor have I lost an inch. Bah! It is now abundantly clear to me that the only way I can lose weight is to combine a total lifestyle change with an illness that leaves me unable to eat properly for days on end. Unfortunately i don't have the strength of insanity to starve myself otherwise. Which is probably for the best, in all other matters. But means I will never-- never!-- make it down to a size 12.
