2008-06-08 - 2:12 a.m.

THE BUTTERY PASTA HEALTHPLAN and assorted ramblings of a woman with no social life whatsoever

I can't get online, but I've had a couple shots of liquor and I feel gabby. Lazy as I am with my diary, it's a good idea for me to go for it when I feel chatty, so here it is. I'll determine whether or not it's too stupid to put in my diary later, when the Comcast monkeys get their shizz straight.

I shouldn't worry about whether or not liquor blurs my judgement when it comes to stupid diary content. Not after the drivel I've subjected my reader (hi, artgnome) to lately. I will not spend another entry forcing her to read about Mister Pill-Gobbling-Assblight. Except to update her: he
continued to badger me until I finally I snapped and told him where the rabbit eats the cabbage. Wow! I said I wouldnt' spend time on it, and then I actually didn't! Usually, when I say something akin to "let me nutshell this", it's a prelude to a monologue from hell. I'm proud of myself right now.

Yellow Ledbetter is a beautiful song that I love. I have no idea what it's about. Can't understand a word.

So recently, I fell off my diet. Well, I didn't actualy fall off, I purposely flung myself off, like Pee Wee escaping the hobo who wouldn't stop singing Jimmy Crack Corn on the train. I've been off track for about a month now...not really eating *more* than usual, but the choices....ooo, the choices...and I've only darkened the gym door four times. Yes, I has been sinnin', and I don't plan to stop. Till Monday.

A friend of mine is trying to pass the four hundredth kidney stone of his lifetime. This one's huge, and still in his kidney...but it's dropping off pieces that are falling into his ureter where they cause mayhem and misery. The agony he goes through is ridiculous in it's relentlessness, and by all accounts, it's much more painful than childbirth. He said, "it feels like someone's stabbing me with an ice pick." He's in terrible pain and there's nothing, really, that can be done to help him. I feel awful about it. The kitties I got are wonderful, and I love them both like crazy. Maynard, the gray tabby, has a sweetly standoffish temperament, but when he is feeling it, he'll come to you and let you give him the scrub-down. He often climbs onto our beds in the middle of the night, and plunges his head into an unconscious hand, where he nudges around until you wake and respond with some head scratching. It's very sweet, and I always indulge him a little before I fall back asleep. His brother Angus, a black-and-white kitty with funny, hyper-alert, green eyes is a complete lovesponge. Angus accosts people and gets him some at intervals throughout the day. They are both energetic, funny, sweeeeet kittens and I'm glad I got them. Today I bought them a condo! I love cats. Smart and handsome to look at, yet they won't stay out all night getting drunk. Well, these boys might contemplate staying out all night eventually, but I doubt it, as I plan to have their "roaming gear" altered considerably at six months. These boys make me happy, and you know...I don't care if I *DO* turn into a cat lady. I say, it's a fine thing to be...long as you don't sport "the smell".

Angus has a lump on his nose, thoough...on the bridge. It became noticable about 6 days ago and seems to have gotten a little bigger since I first noticed it, and it has me a little worried. It isn't painful, whatever it is. I've handled it some, lightly pressing to see if it's sensitive, and it seems to not be. His appetite is big, his energy is high, and he doesn't seem bothered by it at all...and yet. I'm glad we are scheduled for a return vet visit in the next week. If you pray, (I do. lots!) pray it is no big deal and is easily solved. I'd also like to have prayers go up that it's not expensive to treat, whatever it is...but more important is that Angus is healthy. Cheap will be gravy, long as he's not harboring some awful feline malady that is going to ruin my happy.

Mmm. I have to get the kids up and ready for church in the morning, but I'm just not sleepy. Somehow I don't think drinking more whiskey is gonna help that...but hey..just in case....

GAH. Took that last sip of hooch only to find my chaser can empty. I sucked out four or five drops of lukewarm diet soda and it did nothing to cut the heinous fumes that the throatful of whiskey left me. Bleah! Ahhh, but I do feel antiseptic.

I just ate a bowl of bowtie pasta. I'm not even hungry. I put lemon juice and
grated parmesean and black pepper and a tiny bit of butter...and oooweee. It's okay though, 'cause it wasn't *really* butter but SMART BALANCE, so I was *actually* doing something very, very healthy, there, gobbling two servings of pasta at 2am. I only wish I had some ice cream, so I could do my bones good with a healthy dose of calcium.

I can do that, see, 'cause obviously I'm gonna be a damn spinster forever, SO I CAN EAT WHATEVER THE HELL I WANT TO.

I should go to sleep before I commit any more very healthy acts.

I need a distraction.

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