My life is busy. My grandma’s okay. My Thanksgiving was good and for the first time in my personal experience featured the entire turkey sitting on a platter on the dining room table just like in the Norman Rockwell pictures. My head is sleepy. My visits to the gym are sporadic but becoming less so. My TiVo playlist has almost nothing on it now but those We Are The Eighties video collections on VH1 Classic. My browser just crashed.
My days are much shorter than I would like them to be. My secret wish is to have a crystyal meth habit so I could get shit done, but I know perfectly well that would be a lousy idea, though I can’t help but think that I’d lose a few pounds too. My credibility as a weight-loss or healthy body-image blogger of any kind just went careening off a cliff with that last sentence. My column on Queer Eye is out in the latest BUST if I haven’t mentioned it, but I think I might have. My Life With The Thrill Kill Kult was one of my favorite bands years ago and I bet you didn’t know that.
My other site has a few little updates. My breakfast this morning was worth three points. My sneaking suspicion is that I care much more about this than you do, unless you are also on Weight Watchers. My weblog software enables me to retro-date entries, so if it’s okay with you I’d like to pretend this is still Wednesday. My plan was to post yesterday but I didn’t get a chance. My God, I can’t believe the year is almost over.