Are You KIDDING Me With This???

Friday, July 06, 2007

It Made Me Gain Four Pounds, Too

Okay, do you know what I hate? I hate that feeling of wanting nothing more than to write something cute and funny and entertaining but at the same time feeling like I have absolutely nothing to say. You would think that I would have a lot to talk about right now, having just come back from the LEAST vacation-y vacation I have ever taken, and then throwing a party less than 48 hours later, but instead, all I can do is stare at the blank computer screen and curse the little hilbilly in my mind who has one hand down his pants, scratching himself, while the other hand feeds beer into his face on a schedule that includes adequate time for belching and staring blankly at the walls. WHY IS THAT GUY STUCK IN MY HEAD? Why can't it be the sophisticated urban-dweller who gets invited to all the best cocktail parties and always has something to say? My brain is betraying me.

I wonder if it has something to do with the fact that I think I ate ice cream EVERY DAY of the last week of my vacation. And not just little scoops of ice cream, either. The ones that you eat just to make the people you are with feel better about the fact that they are pigs? No. I WAS the pig. Two really big scoops of ice cream on a sugar cone, and when I was feeling REALLY disgusting, I piled on the hot fudge. This is why I try to only visit McMama once a year. I swear that woman sprays "Diet B Gone" in her home before she leaves for the airport to pick me up. (Then again, she kind of has to, because if I was able to retain any of my culinary standards while visiting, I would never eat on the nights she cooked.) (To be fair, though, she did, in fact, make chicken one night and it was, believe it or not, edible. She used a lot of soup, so it was not as dry as the Sahara. Viva Campbells!) (Why, yes, she did make me promise that I would post about that one time that she actually made food that I could eat without suppressing my gag reflex. How did you know?) (She also wanted me to post about her potatoes au gratin, which were excellent if you are a fan of potatoes au gratin. I am not, normally. But hers were quite good. If you like potatoes au gratin. Which I normally do not.)

What was I saying? Oh yes, I think the ice cream rotted my brain out and made me incapable of writing anything worthwhile. Then again, it was worth it. Dark chocolate ice cream with chunks of mint bark running through it on top of a scoop of French roast coffee ice cream, all on top of a sugar cone? For someone who had spent the previous four months on a diet, that was an orgasm on a stick right there. And if masturbation is supposed to make you go blind, I would think ice cream induced orgasms would be enough to short circuit your brain a little bit, don't you?

I just hope things start to balance back out soon. Because while I have appreciated my time away from Teh Internets, I would very much like to get back into the swing of things so I can start posting witty and clever things that inspire people to send me appreciative comments. I am all about anonymous adoration, after all.


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