The Drunken Entry

So for clarification, my Weight Watchers meetings are on Saturday. Today is Sunday. And I am drunk. Drunkedy, drunk, drunk, drunk. But I figured, a drunk mind speaks the truth, and I don’t have any other “sassy” little entry to write this week. Needless to say… I lost 1.6 pounds this week so… fuck yeah!

Ok… not drunkedy drunk drunk… maybe just drunk. Eight beers. I’m hiccupping. That fucking counts. I’m gonna have to add pictures and check for punctuation lata… I am kinda fucked up right now.

So these are some of the truths running through my drunk mind. It should noted before hand that 1: I FINALLY got laid earlier today and 2: I very much unregrettably had a“Beef Beer Porn” Sunday today. As I looked out on this sea of burly men and chomped down on my favorite beef sandwich and watch snippets of porn interspersed with key moments of Super Bowl XLV I realized… I do not want to be skinny. I want to be beefy/muscular. I want to take off my shirt without any fear of repercussion from someone noticing my blatant “side titties”… slabs of fat that roll from chest to under my arms. I could damn near wear a bra now a days. But I digress… I would rather look like a cast of “The Expendables” that “Beverly Hills 90210” or “All McBeal”. I like being beefy. I just want firmer beef.

I hate being one of those people that blog about something before actually explaining it in real life… like blogging that you’re pregnant before you tell your boyfriend… it’s pretty stupid. But alas… I’m drunk so…

I went out with this really great guy that resembles Fred Flinstone and though I very much like him and I think he is an awesome guy, I think he might be too “sane” for me… or I’m a little too much for him. He seems extremely nice and… “pedestrian”. I’m the type of guy that, let’s say… picks up a bottle of ginger infused Skyy vodka, goes to a bathhouse, fucks everybody under 5’7”, comes home, gets fucked by the single most reliable fuck buddy he has ever known, goes to a Bear bar, watches porn, eats beef sandwiches, drinks $2 beers… and tells everybody about it.

There’s a little bit of back story with the fuck buddy but I’ll just say that today he mentioned for the umpteenth time that he has a steady boyfriend to wit I finally replied, “Why do you keep mentioning that… like I give fuck?” I don’t know what’s going on with that dude. I’m thinking either he has no boyfriend at all and is just playing some weirdo game; he’s trying to remind himself that he has a boyfriend or… he’s trying to transfer some of the guilt and responsibility onto me. He asked me why am I single and I sort of told the truth, “Because I want to be, I like being able to fuck around and go get $2 beers on a Sunday afterwards and maybe fuck around some more with somebody else. That is until somebody convinces me otherwise.” Nah… that’s the full truth. I do feel very blessed with my life, but I do have to say I would give it all up for some honest to God, earth shattering, breath stopping, blush inducing LOVE. "Fred" could be that one… but he’s just so bashful and quiet! I really dig the dude but… and God forbid if he is actually reading my drunken ramblings before we had a conversation about this but… well… he knows… he just doesn’t talk. He’s not a big conversationalist. Actually he hasn’t even called me one time since we went out last week.. . which definitely inspired my ginger infused vodka weekend.

I’m digressing again. Ok. Weight / Health / Fitness. I think I should have anal sex at least one time every day. Seriously. It has to help. I used to be so guilty when I was younger. I remember an episode of Queer as Folk when the little twink blonde guy proudly proclaimed in front of some political people, “I love butt fucking!” which I thought was just an odd proclamation. But now I get it. Anal sex is actually the “homo” in homosexuality. It’s the gas that makes that car go. Without it, you’re just some weird dude kissing on your buddy. I’m thinking, as far as health goes, and happiness and keeping your eyes on the prize, there needs to be a lot more in house proctorial exams in my life.

Ok let’s wrap this drunken stupor up.

I’m going to go the gym a lot more this week.

This, I see, is going to be a slow process, but I’m willing to go though it as long as the end game has me under 200 pounds.

Dean has been MIA as far as showing up to his meetings which is slightly pissing me off.

I want to fall in love. And even if I fell in love, I would continue with my program. This is for me. No one else but me… I would hope they would understand.

Black Eyed Peas fucking killed it tonight at the Superbowl Half time show!

“Black dudes got big wood” from “We Run This” by Missy Elliot

I am totally losing my gag reflex as I get older.

So happy that Elliot’s mom’s birthday party didn’t mess me up too much.

I miss my mom.

Good night.

Weigh-In: 286.6