(no subject)

Zobar's landlord turned the heat on last night.
Ugh. It's so hot and dry in here... It's 52 outside, which isn't that cold. I have a thermometer that i put on the bedroom wall because, well, i had it, and it had to go somewhere, and it's been reading a steady 70 for days now. Well, now that the heat's on, it's... *peers across room* 80. Yes, folks, 80 degrees Fahrenheit.
Damn, that's way too hot. And it's so dry in here... eugh. I was enjoying wearing a sweater and drinking hot tea; that's what autumn's about. Now it's like summer only it smells funny. Icky icky icky!
and of course my conditioning won't let me just open a window. Nosiree. That'd be wasteful.
Maybe I could open the door onto the hall, though... Maybe.
My hair is like straw and my skin is like paper. I hate winter.

my cheerful morning update...

(no subject)

I don't know whether this is a victory or a defeat, but I just broke down, looked up an easy workout online, and actually followed it. It was a wussy 30-minute all-purpose one, but I was just feeling so ... icky, dumpy, and thoroughly lacking in muscle tone... that i had to do something, and there was no way I was going for a jog in Jersey City on a rainy cold day in the middle of a Latino/black ghetto. (Dave, his landlord, and the old lady downstairs are the only white people in the neighborhood, except for Latinos who somehow know their own but I can't tell the difference with most of 'em until they start talking.) Don't get me wrong, it's not as bad a place to live as Dave would have you believe when he's in a glum mood; I like it fine, I'm just not going to go out in it in a white t-shirt that will then get wet, and shorts, and doing something that will by its very nature make my boobs jiggle even in my Super-Duper-Uber-Constricting-Sports-Bra-For-Huge-Breasted-Women. Nope, no, uh-uh, not me. It's not the kind of neighborhood where I wouldn't be safe, mind you. I'd just get yowled at a lot. It's hard enough to walk to the Light Rail in jeans (there's a construction site there, and they're very, very friendly)-- I don't mind that, but when I'm out for a jog I'm in pain and hate the world and do NOT want to be sociable and friendly and pointed and laughed at.
So, I wimped out, and looked up a wussy workout linked to from AOL, of all places. Hell, they've got so many readers they HAVE to be reputable. That's what they do! They're like, Internet, only cleaned, sanitized, edited, free of any deep or emotional content, and with the actual functioning bits removed for your own protection.
So anyhow, I did such baroque monstrosities as leg lifts and tricep dips, and now I'm virtuously eating peanut butter crackers. Hey, man. Peanut butter with crackers or bread forms a complete protein, and costs nearly nothing. If you do it right you can live very well on it.
I just... I noticed that my favorite pair of underpants fit tighter than it used to, and yesterday my knee hurt all day, and I thought, God damn it, I'm getting old and fat, and I'm not even a quarter-century old yet. I cannot stand to go up a clothes size, not at this point in my life. No more fencing means I have to do something...
Well, we'll see. Living with a 6' 3" hybrid piranha/stick insect isn't helping me any. He has to eat massive quantities of food to preserve his metabolic equilibrium, and then sits completely motionless (except for mouse finger) for hours at a time to preserve energy. If I emulate him, I'll become Jabba the Hutt. And while he assures me that tummy flab is cute, I think it's kind of like alligators-- only cute when little. I don't fancy haunting any sewers.
So, victory or defeat? I don't know. More... pyrrhic than anything else.

Oh great. you know what's happening? It's just making my appetite increase. Stoppit, I can't afford any more food! Don't make me want to eat all the time! Live off those reserves! Dammit, that's why I have them! Watch it, missy, or I'll keep feeding you plain oatmeal. There's more where that came from. Yargh!

We interrupt this livejournal post to inform you that the author has just gone insane and will be summarily locked in the closet with the winter coats until she calms down.

(no subject)

WHITE CHILI

From Lisa Sartini

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1 Tablespoon Chili Powder (or more to taste)

2 packages boneless, skinless chicken breasts (6 pieces, cut up)

16 oz. jar medium or mild salsa

12 oz. can tomatoes -- drained & chopped

1 medium onion-- chopped

1 large (48 oz.) can Great Northern Randall Beans --drained

8 oz. shredded Monterey Jack cheese

8 oz. shredded Cheddar cheese


Put all ingredients in standard size crock pot with cheese on top. Cover and simmer on low approximately 5-- 6 hours. Enjoy!!!

(no subject)

Calvin: I don't want to go to school. I don't want to learn anything new. I already know more than I want to! I liked things better when I didn't understand them! The fact is, I'm being educated against my will! My rights are being trampled!
Hobbes: Is it a right to remain ignorant?
Calvin: I don't know, but I refuse to find out!
(Homocidal Psycho Jungle Cat, p. 41)

Been reading a bunch of Calvin and Hobbes books. (Every one, in fact, except for the first self-titled one, which is contained along with the second in The Essential Calvin and Hobbes anyway.) And why, oh why, are there NO comic strips in circulation today that are this goddamn good? I was going through and finding good quotes and marking down strips I wanted to scan so I could have a copy, and it was pretty much every one. For the however many years the strip was running. I mean... jeez! He was witty, relevant, thoughtful, socially-aware but not preachy, cute but never cloying, sentimental but never infuriating, never self-indulgent, never repetetive (even though he sometimes said the same things over again, they were things that bore repeating, and it was somehow even funnier), never stupid, never boring, and dammit, it was FUNNY. And beautifully drawn.
*sighhhh*...

( silliness ensues )