I've made a reservation for this new restaurant on March 1st - to celebrate my return to the sweet life. A cocktail, wine, dessert. Yea! Actually, I'm not really even looking forward to it that much, I'm pretty neutral. So weird.

I've been doing a mini renovation in the bathroom and am disappointed in the lack of fumes related fun. Are they making fumes less toxic these days? Trying to deter those glue sniffing crack babies? Oh well.

 

I have only just grown to accept that I have actually not eaten sugar for over 3 weeks. I actually did it. I have another week before I'm calling the experiment complete, but holy crap! 22 days almost completely sugar free. I haven't craved sugar at all - it's bizarre. If it were to be averaged out, I bet I've eaten at least a candy bar a day for my entire life. That's over 10000 candy bars! But I haven't even craved one once these last few weeks. I'm so baffled. The only time I've even thought about candy is when I want a snack and can't figure out what to eat. Normally I'd eat candy but now I have to think. I've been as happy with apples and grapes as I was with chocolate. Maybe I have a brain tumour or something? How else can this be explained? Even the cheating I've done is ridiculous. The Princess gives me this look like I'm a moron when I refer to it as cheating. I've had a miniscule sip of his coffee which had sugar in it. I had ketchup on my cheeseburger. I had about a 1/4 teaspoon of egg salad which was made with store bought mayonnaise which has sugar in the ingredients. A sip of tea that had honey in it - when I accidentally picked up the wrong cup. The biggest one was a glass of wine when I was out for dinner - which I mainly had so I wouldn't have to explain why I wasn't having one. I'll definitely have a sweet something on March 1st, unsweetened hot chocolate doesn't really have the same kick as the real stuff. Neither does sugarfree peanut butter.

 

Alright, nobody wants to say it, myself included, but I'm going to anyway: there are too many retarded people working at Walmart. It isn't a bad word, it's an accurate one. They're not 'slow', they're not 'alternatively abled', they're retarded, and they can all be found at Walmart. Maybe this is a good reflection on the local economy, that the only people left to work at the Walmart here are bused in, and hey, good for them being independent and all that. But how many is too many? At first it seemed kind of neat and heart-warming or something that people with compassion and crap might feel, and then it seemed trendy because so many seemed to have hopped aboard, and now it's just freakin' weird. There are so many retarded people - alright, alright mentally handicapped people working at Walmart that it feels like Walmart must be doing something really wrong. I mean hey, pink is the new black, and mentally handicapped is the new illegal immigrant underpaid worker. But that completely surpasses a plausible low, right? Even for Walmart?

So the Princess and I enter Walmart and the 'greeter' is busy saying hello to another customer. This takes some time. We're five metres away and she proceeds to chase us down so she can greet us. She sprinted a good 4 metres! Well, her sprint was more of a shuffle really, but a damn fast shuffle none the less.

Between the Princess and I we walked by or had some degree of interaction with: a greeter, a stock boy, the photo guy, two men with undisclosed jobs who seemed to be following each other around, a custodian, and three cashiers. Nine employees, and only one of the cashiers and the guy who seemed quite ready to shoot himself at the photo centre were clearly not mentally disabled. Mentally handicapable? Seven out of nine. That's what, 77 percent? That's a high percentage of retarded floor staff. How is that not at least a little bit fucked up?

Maybe this is indicative of the leaps and bounds mentally handicapped people have made in our society, and that's swell, I hear you. They need jobs; Walmart has jobs. But so does the grocery store and all the other big box retailers, so why the concentration at Walmart? Were they recruited somehow? Is it alright if they were? I want them to have jobs and independence and all those vaunted quality of living things, but I tend to be suspicious of Walmart and this makes me think that someone should be looking into it somehow.

Oh and by the way, for some unknown reason our cashier 'finished' checking us out after only processing half of our items. And since she didn't know how to fix that, we had to pay for the two sets separately. Of course we had to figure this out on our own because while she wasn't mute, she did not speak any discernible language. And she forgot to ring through the spackle. I saw it in her hand, I saw her put it down and ring a different item through. I wondered about this and dismissed it. And ... no spackle.

 

It's the end of day 4 and I haven't been craving sugar at all yet. Weird, eh? I thought I would be scratching at the wrong side of a locked door by now, having barricaded myself away from candy, but not at all.

The first couple days I was really tired and lethargic, sleeping a ton. That's begun to subside but it was really unexpected. I had to pee more often than usual as well, but that too is going back to normal. I wonder what's going to happen next? I wonder if I'll want as much candy as I used to when I can eat it again? Another weird thing is that I'm not hungry at all. I eat, of course, but it's mainly because I know I should rather than because I feel hungry.

So, 4 down, 25 to go.

 

This is it, my last day before the dreaded month long sugar abstention. I have cookies in the oven; I'll have to eat them all tonight. And finish the port and the open bottle of wine. And the ice cream. Have one last cup of hot chocolate. It's just sugar, it won't be horrendous. I can eat other snacks instead: fruits, chips, popcorn, nuts, peanut butter - oh wait, is there added sugar in peanut butter? I'm still wondering where honey factors in. There is no added sugar, but honey - well it is sugar, right? Maybe I'll hold off on that until I get really desperate. The Princess is sure I won't last a week. That isn't cynicism; it's actually a vote of confidence really. I'm not sure if I can last the weekend!

 

Since what I've been thinking of as my 'colon incident' I've decided to experiment with my diet and see if I notice any changes in my colonic health. January saw me drinking ginger tea first thing in the morning and last thing at night. I didn't really notice any change in my colon, but I found that it did wonders for my metabolism. So anyone looking to lose a little weight, consider adding ginger tea to your routine.

I've decided to venture into more unpleasant territory for the month of February: the elimination of sugar from my diet. Natural sugars are fine, so I'll still eat fruit and unsweetened juices, but no added sugars which means no cookies or cakes or candies or chocolates... Please please please don't let anything improve! If I notice a marked improvement in my colon then I'll have to consider limiting my future sugar intake. I don't even want to think about that. Nothing will happen. In fact my colon will probably be awful and I might actually need chocolate in order to live. That's what I'm hoping anyway, that I'll find out that yummy things like candy and chocolate are essentials to my healthy lifestyle. That could happen, right?

 

The Princess is presently doing everything he can to avoid taking a shower. It's 9:32pm. He's working early tomorrow so he'll be going to bed soon. Oh - and he hasn't brushed his teeth today.

He said he'd have a shower after his news programme is finished - I agreed. Then of course he puts the programme on pause and plays on the computer instead. Finally the news is done, he heaves a great sigh and knows it's time. He went upstairs and ... I don't hear the water running. Instead I hear the guitar. Oh and now he's singing.

If he was depressed or something I suppose I could understand this, but he isn't! He just doesn't want to bathe. It must be some repressed childhood thing resurfacing. Some bizarre fascination with his own jungle scent. Some weird genetic imprint rearing its unkempt head. I don't know. Oh - oh - I hear it! The shower is running. Hopefully he'll actually get in. Hopefully once in he'll decide he might as well use some soap.

Why is he so weird?

 

Alright, so I'm in bed with the Princess and we're chatting and then we both sort of pause. He asks me if I've farted. I say no, because I was busy thinking that it was him. He lifts the blankets and the worst smell wafts out. We're both sort of horrified and whoever produced this should be horribly embarrassed. Except, I don't think it was me, sure I had some colon problems, but honestly! To produce such a stink and not be aware of it? But if it wasn't me, it was the Princess, and his claims against it seemed pretty sincere. So whoever it was honestly has no idea it was them.

 

So, I decide to make baba ghanoush. The oven stopped working for whatever reason, so I have to use the indoor grill. I hesitate for a moment when I see all the stuff in the grill pan: charred remains of previously grilled foods. I slice the eggplant and toss it on. I should mention here that our grill has a couple of melted downward loops caused by flare ups when cooking in the past. A couple minutes pass and there's a small thump in the grill. It's the melted grill pan loop things - one has finally melted through and broken off. A second later a big whoosh! and the whole pile of charred stuff is in two foot high flames and the fire alarm is going off. Did I mention that it's about 2am? The Princess comes flying into the kitchen - naked of course - sees the flames and it's a complete testimony to how much he trusts me that I just tell him "Don't worry, it's fine," and he nods, unplugs the fire alarm and goes back to bed. I pour salt on the flames to buy me some time, but the fire is big enough that the salt isn't really going to do it. Time for the fire extinguisher. I had never used one before and never really got around to familiarising myself with one. I pull it off the wall and in the back of my head I'm thinking that the Princess and I really have to thank his friend M, who insisted we have a fire extinguisher in the kitchen and installed it on the wall for us. I sigh at the muted flames and am wondering how long I've got until the fire spreads to the cupboards, so far it's pretty contained in the grill/fan thing by the stove - the stove/grill is in the centre island. The fire extinguisher has instructions easy enough for a person in the middle of a fire to decipher, though it takes me a few moments to figure out how to actually squeeze the lever, the squeeze mechanism is completely counterintuitive and it takes me a second to reconcile how I think it should work with what the directions tell me to do. Then of course the money shot blast of compressed dust and the fire is out. And the kitchen is covered in a thin layer of white. Great.

There are a couple of things that I feel good about. I'm learning to trust my intuition more and more and it pays off here and there. I made sure to stay in the kitchen while the grill was on. Normally I would only do that if there was meat on the grill, or anything fatty that might drip and flare up. If I have vegetables on the grill, I'm usually pretty comfortable leaving them moderately unattended. This time I thought I had better keep a close eye on things. Also, I'm glad that I'm able to deal with stuff like this pretty calmly. There are a ton of things I would have preferred to do differently, but I'm pleased with how it was handled. Finally, I like that I can just do what I see needs to be done and not make it a big issue or into some huge inconvenience. The entire kitchen is covered in dust, clean it, so what?

 

When the Princess and I are together, we share a bed (obviously) and sleep nude. When I'm at my parents' house I sleep alone in my sister's old room, wearing a nightdress. When I'm at my sister's I share her bed and wear a pair of shorts and a tank top or a nightshirt. Preamble, I know, but it leads to something weird but hilarious - at least, to me. I'm here with the Princess and have been since about the 28th. Twice since I've been here I've woken up in the middle of the night, naked, and for a few moments I'm horribly embarrassed. Why? Because I'm certain that I'm at my sister's place. I have no idea why I've taken off my clothes and figure I must have done it accidentally in my sleep somehow. So for a couple of seconds I'm lying under the covers hoping I can sneak out of the bed and put something on before she notices my inexplicable nudity and I have to figure out how to explain myself. "I must have grown too warm and accidentally took off all my clothes" seems somewhat unbelievable. Then I start to giggle because I realise where I am again.

 

I suppose I should credit the Princess with helping keep the house clean. Granted I didn't expect his assistance to lead to my saying the following sentence, "Since your shower was so infrequently used this week, I guess we don't have to clean it. Great."

That's right. The Princess has foregone showers for the week. Alright, not the whole week, but he had a shower just an hour ago and the last shower before that occurred on Wednesday. Thursday and Friday he was being a friend to the environment. That's what I've been calling it. It has a nice ring to it I think. I did warn him that if he didn't shower today he would not be allowed into the bed - I changed the sheets today dammit!

 

Well, it's 2008 and I guess I've finished up my convalescing. Time to get back to having a life that doesn't revolve around food, my weight, and going to the bathroom. Nobody wants to hear about my poop anymore. I suppose I was done talking about it anyway.

We're back. And we're ready to do this thing again. New graphics, getting rid of old graphics, blogging regularly. Having a life fun enough to talk about. I'm pretty sure I haven't really left the house for 6 months. Maybe I'll wait until it's warmer to leave again. No, no, that'll just lead to me having to be pried out of the house in a crane. Again. Joking, joking. I'm still slim if soft and slightly doughy. I fell like I look older though, like I have wrinkles under my eyes that I didn't have before I was ill. I guess that's a decent price for not being killed by own colon. Could you pick a more undignified way to go? Seriously, pooping to death? Anyhow, all taken care of. Girl X is back.

Happy New Year!

 

I've decided to do a little detox diet. This means
No caffiene
No alcohol
No refined sugars
No wheat
No meat
No junk food (obviously)

It's day three. Originally I had planned to go for ten days. But then i remembered that i'm going home for the weekend. And I think it will be exhausting to have to continually explain this diet to my parents. So I may just go for five days instead. Which maybe isn't long enough to really do anything, but it's certainly long enough for me to appreciate proper food again.

Some people feel really terrible when they drastically change the way they eat. I didn't. I was tired, but that lasted only a day and then i was fine. So maybe i'm not as toxic as i anticipated.

I also thought i'd have super huge cravings for chips and booze. But I don't. The only thing i really want is meat. I would love a big piece of roasted chicken.

I'm not really sure if this stuff really does anything. But i figure it can't hurt to shake up your diet and eat really healthy for a bit. Disgustingly healthy in fact. All i'm eating is

steamed vegetables by the bucketful
brown rice
lentils
fruits
vegetable broth
and water. lots and lots of water.

I can't believe people do this for a month at a time. I can barely get through the week!

 

I'm so tired. This time change has done me in. It's only 8:30 and i want to go to sleep. And i've got work to do and i don't want to do it. I want to do anything but the work i'm supposed to do for a 10:00am meeting tomorrow. It was supposed to be at 4:00pm but they moved it up to 10:00am. Bastards.

So to procrastinate I've been checking out some speed dating sites. Yes i'm thinking about speed dating. I did it once a few years ago. And i found the evening well, uninspired. But lately i've been thinking that bad experiences make good stories, so in a way, i really can't lose.

I went on a date last week. It was truly a terrible date. He talked about his job. He showed me his online dating profile - both of them in fact, and asked me how he could improve them. At the end of the date, he said that if we went out again that i could talk about my job. How very generous of him.

And it was a real shame - he was hot, fit and smart. Plus i haven't had sex in close to a year. If he could have just shut up a little, i probably would have slept with him. I had even bought lube - just in case!

Althought the date was a disaster, it did spark my interest in dating again. Which i think is pretty healthy for me. I figure i've got nothing to lose. I'll either meet someone who's kinda cool. Or I'll have a terrible date but a terrific story.

 

A couple of days ago I met some guy in a coffee shop. He chatted me up gave me his number and asked me to call him. He's not really my type, but I figured what the hell?

Two days later, on Wednesday, I called, and left a message on his voice mail.

He called me back at 11:30pm and leaves a message on my voice mail

On Thursday the phone rang a few times. I had a lot of work to complete so I didn't pick it up. The caller didn't leave a message, which makes me think it was him.

On Friday, I picked up the phone and it was him. We chatted for a while and at the end I told him that I'll call him in a couple of days. 30 minutes later the phone rang. I ignored it, and the answering machine picked it up. It was him again.

Sheesh, I don't even know this guy and already I want to tell him to back off a little.