I spent all morning writing a post that just disappeared to… I have no fucking clue where. Forgive me if this is grammatically retarded and completely un-pc, but I don’t feel like trying as hard this time around.

I actually started about 7 different posts that were potentially for today, but for one reason or another just never finished them.

I’m blaming it on the fact that I was just mega-slammed with work, and I  got a last minute call from Channel 6  News to be interviewed about my unnatural ability to do a hand stand against the wall for 8 hours at a time.

Ha.

Truth is, for the second time this week, I broke my “not drinking for almost a week” pact.  I only had a few much-needed cocktails, but I still feel like a big fat sack of guilty ass. Though I have no idea what that would actually look like.

The good news is that I kept my other pact to myself. I vowed that I would be completely committed to this little blog for the entire month of October… Meaning that, come rain or shine and no matter how boring the shit I threw at you was, I made a commitment that I would post every single weekday. Just to see if I could.

And check out that calendar on the side-bar over there—————————————————————–>

OH YEAH, BLOG! I Kellllly-Ripppppppad your ass!!!

And while this may not seem like a big deal to a lot of you, I have something inside of me that makes me  just want quit something as soon as I hear the word “commit.”

But alas, maybe these times they are a changin’.

So now I will continue with my visual presentation to the shit-storm that is my life… If you missed it, you can check out more visuals from last Friday’s post here.

Remember how I was just telling you about how I hate spiders?

I killed that mutha.

Well a certain little bugger  was sent from Satan himself to terrorize me this morning. Sure he was just a little thing, but nevertheless, he did his job well. At first I thought I was imagining things, (possibly experiencing the first signs of food poisoning that I’m sure to get after eating raw chicken last night) but after seeing a shadow repeatedly float across my computer screen, I knew he was there. I swear though, he was fucking with me on purpose. He used his nearly invisible web to cascade down from the ceiling, probably trying to get close enough to have a taste of my blood, and then as soon as I would notice him and attempt to take a swap, he would completely disappear!. I finally got him though. I would take a picture and show you, but there’s not a lot left.

Not only do I murder helpless creatures, but I steal shit too.

Does this count as littering?

Ok, so I don’t so much steal, (I’m not that tough) but I do accidentally take things quite often. I blame it on my severe case of untreated ADD. I’ll be focused and right in the middle of doing something….

I should totally go get fake eyelashes for tonight. Oooh, there’s a Target across the street.

Which is what happened at the bank a few days ago when I ended up driving away with that little thingie that they send you your money in. I have no clue what to call it, but if you don’t know what I’m talking about look at the picture above, ya dumbass.

Oh I’m feeling a little frisky this morning. Must have been all that sugar. Does anyone know how to make pumpkin dip? I really want some for the party tomorrow. I have a feeling that it is something like pumpkin pie, but I don’t know how to make that either.

Damn, see… happened again.

So anyways, I drove away with the thingie. I would have just taken it bac k, but I’ve already had to do that once this month, and I didn’t want to go to the embarrassment trouble. Hence the reason that I bowling balled that container right out of my car when I realized I had it. Always get rid of the evidence…. And then take a picture and blog about it… is what I always say.

Really, this is a philosophy of mine. (not the blog part) Chunk it out of the car.

Once, my college roommate accused me of taking her Outcast CD.  I denied and denied, because I don’t listen to Outcast.

About a year later I was going through my cd’s and came across that Outcast CD. I have no idea how it got there, but I sure enough chunked that shiz out the window in a moment of panic. And now, I’m blogging about it. (If you’re reading this… I AM REALLY SORRY!!!)

Have I already told you that I want to take wine behind the schoolyard and get it pregnant?

I’m pretty sure that I have.

My roommates and I have started collecting the wine corks and empty  bottles to use to make artsy things. They have even gone to the trouble of ordering glass cutters and candles and decorative rocks and such. Don’t worry, I’ll post pictures of our projects for you. Just as soon as we feel we have saved enough material to really get started.

Don’t hold your breath.

Have you met my roommate Jake?

Just your average night at my house.

For the most part I get along with all my roommates. Jake and I just have a…. special kind of friendship. Ok, I won’t beat around the bush. He is the only person in the world that has the ability to make me want to stab myself repeatedly in the eye. And I’m pretty sure he is committed to making me do so. He has the ability to speak my name at a volume that makes animals do crazy things like jump of cliffs and bite the hands off of small children. Oh the torture! Forget waterboarding, just send Jake. You’ll get all the answers you want.

Another example of his Jakiness? Last night, for no apparent reason, Jake decided it would be funny to reach his hand down the back of his pants and chase me around the house threatening to wipe butt juice on me. Luckily, I possess the only weapon that works on Jake (and most gay guys)… a vajayjay. Oh yes. Two can play this game. The chase lasted for about fifteen minutes and ended with Jake locking himself in the bathroom. I win.

On a side note, this pretty much works with anything when dealing with Jake. As long as I have the ability to drop my pants, I win!

I know you think otherwise, but I’m not perfect.

Note to self: wear a bra.

I know I’ve mentioned that my Halloween costume this year consists of a pair of saggy boobs that i ordered off the internet. Well last night, my other roommate Denny, ( who usually doesn’t give me trouble) asked me why I was wearing them a few days early.

FML.

HAPPY HALLOWEINER!

I had heard so much about Inglorious Basterds, I couldn’t believe it could possibly live up to all the hype.

How very wrong I was. I don’t have the time right now to get out a full review, and I’m still digesting some of the gory details- but at this point in time I must say that this is my favorite film of the year thus far.

It’s just as bloody as everyone says it is, but I think it works. Brad Pitt was excellent as the lead Basterd, bringing out a character like I haven’t seen him do since 12 Monkeys.  Christoph Waltz, a German actor who plays the evil yet cunning antagonist Nazi- Colonel Hanz Landa- really stole the show for me. I’m gonna go out on a limb and say I will shave my head if he doesn’t get an Oscar Nom this year. I’m that sure. I said the same thing about Mickey Rourke last year and Javier Bardem the year before so I’ll go ahead and just make this a tradition of being correct.

My other favorite part of the movie was Eli Roth who plays Donny Donowitz, other wise known as the “Bear Jew” who made a name for himself bashing Nazis heads in with a baseball bat. I know people out there have some hate for Eli Roth, but he is probably one of my favorite people on earth. In case you are unfamiliar, Roth is best known for directing the horror gore movies Cabin Fever and Hostel. He’s most often called a hack, but I tend to think differently. His B style films are intentional, and after watching the director’s commentaries, all of the extras on the dvds, and any interview I could find on the interweb, I’m positive that any time you laughed or have guffawed at a scene in one of his films, he wanted you to feel this way.

Plus he’s a hottie. But that aside, I think you can really see the influence Roth has had on Tarrentino in Ingourious Basterds. But enough about that. All I can really add is that even if you are not a Tarrentino fan, or if you think this looks too much like a “guy” movie for your taste- give this movie a chance, it will blow your mind.

And now I must be going for I have some plans for this evening.

I am now going to admit something to you now, something I usually lie about or promptly change the subject when it comes up. I’ve never seen Pulp Fiction. I know. What in the hell am I doing calling myself a film buff? Its not that I had no desire or anything- its just that sometimes when everyone and their dog says a movie is their favorite of all time, I’m scared that I’ll see it and then to fail to understand what all the love is about. I kind of made a vow never to see this or Saving Private Ryan.  I think now it is time I break my vow, at least the half involving Pulp Fiction.  I loved Inglorious Basterds that much.

I am planning on making one minor adjustment though. I think I’ve been holding back a little, for fear of who may be reading this- and from this moment on- I’m making a vow to blog like no one’s reading. Which should be easy, since at this point- that’s pretty much true.  I also have been pretty bad at writing in my own personal journal, so I’ll use this opportunity to write the stuff that I would write only to myself. If that makes sense.  So, if you don’t give a crap about what happened in my day, then go away. I’ll get over it.

So far, this week has been pretty uneventful. I had kind of fallen off the working out wagon for a couple of weeks, and now I’m back. If you don’t know, I have lost about a bit of weight over the last 2 years- (96 lbs, but who’s counting?) and now I’m not so focused on losing more- but I am bound and determined to finally tone up. It’s either that or I need to find a new job where I actually have health insurance that would cover a tummy tuck that would probably rival that of Kate Gosselin. Note: The previous sentence is the only time in my life where I will ever compare any part of my life to that of any Gosselin.

The last 3 days I’ve actually run-walked (mostly walked) at least 5 miles, and did weights and crunches… and my body feels it. Even my hands are sore from gripping the top of the treadmill so hard. Seriously, it hurts to type. But I’m not risking falling off the treadmill again.

I did have a bit of an unusual situation yesterday. You know how you can put the treadmill on different settings like trainer, fat burner, cardio etc.? Well I usually don’t like to do those settings because they require you to enter your weight, and I don’t particularly want the douche-bag on the weight machine behind me to know just how much more I weigh than him-not that I care what he thinks. I have actually gotten over anyone judging me at the gym. You kind of have to when you accidentally wear a pair of light gray leggings to spin class. (Don’t try and tell me your butt doesn’t sweat…)

Anyway, yesterday I decided to try the fat burner setting on the treadmill. The other problem I have with the settings is that I’ve never had any luck with machines being able to read my heart rate. They either tell me my heart is erratically going from 150 beats per minute to 25 beats per minute, or that I have no heart beat at all. So I was pretty surprised yesterday when I noticed that there was a steady 123 where the words “Need HR” are usually blinking. It didn’t strike me as unusual that I had already met my target heart rate within my first 3 steps on the treadmill.

“Yay, target heart rate! I’m not dying of heart failure!,” were my thoughts, since usually I see my heart rate bottoms out at 14 beats per minute.

As I reluctantly switched the speed from 3.5 to 4.2, I kept a watchful eye on my heart rate. It stayed right around the 123 mark, which was interesting- but I didn’t really think too much about it. I was just happy to know that I had a heart.

After a few minutes I decided to really throw my figurative balls to the wall and raise the speed up to a slow jog, which is the only form of running I will attempt. I watched my heart rate go down to 121 then right back up to 123. It was around this point that I realized that I was running, and my hands weren’t even on the handles.

“Holy crappola! My heart must be so strong that the machine can feel it vibrate through my body!”

There was a short time when my heart rate disappeared completely. I slowed my pace and tried to put my hands on different parts of the treadmill, since I knew through the course of the workout my hands had been anywhere from the handles, to the sides (to hold myself up,) to the top of the treadmill. Just  as the person occupying the treadmill next to me returned from getting a quick drink of water, I quit fondling my treadmill and what do you know? My heart beat returned at about 67 beats per minute and gradually returned to the 123 mark.

I usually like to keep tabs on the time and calories burnt of the people around me (I know it’s not a competition,) so it is kind of surprising that I hadn’t noticed the bald guy next to me had the exact same exact heart rate as I did, until I was cooling down.

You probably think I have something wrong with me but I didn’t make the full connection until I was off the treadmill and the still machine was still showing my heart rate.

Damn digital heart rate monitors.  The only thing I can really say about the fact that I had spent an entire hour on the treadmill focused on watching my heart rate-which was actually the heart rate of the guy beside me- is that it worked as a good distraction. I guess it’s still up in the air as to whether or not I have a heart…