Downscaling.net » fast food frenzy

Try to see it my way

Nona — Wed, 08 Dec 2010 03:09:08 +0000

Yesterday was one of those mad crazy days when there was no time to eat and I kinda wished I wore Depends.

After 6 p.m. I tweeted that the only sustenance I’d had all day was two cups of coffee and two slices of cake.

I know, not nutritionally sound. If you are looking for prose about good eating habits, just skip this post because it only gets worse from here.

So, shortly after I announced to Twitter that I was on a waning sugar buzz I declared that I was gonna find me a cheeseburger and make it my bitch. Husband replied to that tweet that he would like one, too, please. Being a good wife, of course I was willing to clog my beloved’s arteries along with my own.

So on my way home, I pull into Wendy’s drive-thru. If you haven’t visited Wendy’s lately, let me tell you that those new french fries it’s been advertising? The russet, skin-on potatoes with a kiss of sea salt? Totally ROCK! Crispy, golden, not-too-salty. It’s like the Fried Potato Fairy sprinkled magic dust all over each box. Seriously, you must try them.

Anyway, I go through the drive-thru and order my husband a cheeseburger — no mayo, no tomato, just the way he likes it –and order myself some honey barbecue chicken nuggets (I told you this was NOT going to be a good nutrition post.) Of course I got two large orders of these magnificent fries because, hello, Fried-Potato-Fairy-dusted-heaven and I haven’t had anything to eat all day.

I pay for my and my husband’s dinner — out of my own pocket, mind you — and proceed to drive the two miles home with the hot, delectable fries in the bag. So I did what any STARVING person would do and I reached in the bag for a little taste of magic.

Before I knew it, I was home. And one of the fry boxes? Was totally empty.

So I had to break it to my husband that his fries were accidentally consumed by a STARVING person in my car on the way home. And I was really sincerely sorry for his loss. Clearly, the purloined potatoes were HIS because they were situated in the bag on top the burger. My pristine potatoes were still warm, sitting clearly on top of my little chicken nuggets box.

I explained all of this to him. And do you know what he did? This man who swears he loves me? He too MY fries!

I mean, HIS fries were ACCIDENTALLY eaten. No one, least of all his loving wife, INTENTIONALLY robbed him of his fries. It was just one of those freak things that happens when goods are transported. Sometimes there is inventory shrinkage. It’s no one’s FAULT!

But he didn’t see it my way. He did, however, find it in his heart to toss me a few tender taters from MY OWN ORDER. Mighty damn magnanimous of him, huh?

I remained haunted by the image of my beloved, cholesterol-clogging pomme frites being savored just out of my reach.

So close and yet I managed to fuck it up

Nona — Wed, 25 Nov 2009 01:00:00 +0000

I tried to do the NaBloPoMoFo challenge. I lasted until the 23rd. Aaaaand then I just forgot.

I brought work home last night, so I was on the flippin’ computer, working until I had bony fingers, all evening long. But it didn’t hit me until I was in bed, past 11 p.m., that I didn’t make a blog entry.

If my Mac had been in the bedroom, I would have scribbled something, anything, just to keep my streak going. But alas the Mac was in our family room, two flights of stairs away. So, fuck that. Not happening.

And maybe it’s for the best. Most of my entries this month have been pretty lame, just typing for the sake of getting something out there. And that’s not the kind of writer I am.

This blog is also supposed to be about my weight loss and food reconfigurations. I should be chronicling my attempt to cook my ass off. And on that front I have been a big old FAIL.

Let’s review my food choices since Sunday, shall we: Pancakes the size of LP album covers, slathered in butter and syrup. Various samples of chocolate chip cookies. A tiny bit of roast beef. A bowl of cereal. More cookies. A cupcake. A burger. A piece of cake. Another burger. Beer.

I will refer to this entry the next time I wonder why my big fat ass can’t get into my jeans and my two blood pressure numbers add up to a perfect bowling score.

So, what have I learned from this? Two things really. Doing things half-assed just for the sake of getting something done is not the point, and the end result usually sucks. And I need to eat something that isn’t made of meat and/or sugar at least ONCE in a while.

So maybe this little experiment hasn’t been a total fuck up, eh?

Counting the hours

Nona — Fri, 18 Sep 2009 00:43:00 +0000

The hubby and I are about 36 hours from leaving for our vacation and I am getting that antsy-in-my-pantsy feeling of excitement and dread.

Excited because we are flying about as far away from our little city to the Pacific Northwest, a place I have always wanted to go. Dread because I always feel like I am going to forget something before I leave the office or the house which will cause certain disaster to us and everyone we know and the whole vacation will be ruined and…I am exhausted before I even leave.

I was so busy at work today trying to get stuff done before I left that I didn’t have my first bite of food until 2 p.m. and then I paid $13 for sandwich, and apple, a yogurt and a bottle of water.

Not that there’s anything wrong with it, but, uh, $13? When she told me the total I said, “Excuse me,” and she said “$13.” And I said “Do what?” and she looked at me like I should be able to understand her rather clear speech, and I was like, “Uh, let’s put back the bottle water and I’ll take the tap, thanks.” But then she was going to have to get the manager so I said never mind just let me keep my $2 bottle of water I am sure it will taste like fine wine and so I took my sad little sandwich and my yogurt to a table and ate it. So there.

And then I went back to work where I had to correspond with a woman who feeds her dogs road kill – no shit, road kill – and I had to pretend like that’s a perfectly logical thing to do. She even butchers the dead, decaying critter carcasses before she feeds them to her dogs and ferrets.

Yep, you really need to make sure to scrape the Goodyear tread off the beaver before you feed it to your weasels.

You crazy biznatch.

Thanks for taking my mind off all the stuff I have to do before I leave for vacation.

At least I got my toes done. Oh yeah. Bye-bye ghetto toes and hello pretty pedicure. And the massage chair? Well let’s just call that a big old bonus. I was trying to figure out if it would fit in the trunk of my Beetle.

Mean pricks, cool chicks and corporate dicks

Nona — Thu, 17 Sep 2009 01:16:00 +0000

OK, so today could have been better. But it could have been worse, too.

At work, I got my ass chewed on – via e-mail – by a sanctimonious prick. Since I like to think of myself as a professional, I sent him back a polite reply. What I really want to say was pucker up and pick a cheek, phucker.

Since my smokin’ hot hubby and I are about to go on vacation, I decided to cheer myself up with a little retail therapy. As a fat woman, I should have known better. Cute clothes are hard to come by in my size. But I did find a couple of things at the overpriced fat-girl speciality store in the mall. You know the one. First initial is Lane, second one is Bryant.

As I was about to hand over too much hard-earned cash, this lady standing behind me, whom I had never seen before in my whole wacky life, asked me if I had one this chain’s mailer coupons. Well, no, I sure don’t. And she hands me a $25 coupon.

Damn, girlfriend! That’s the nicest thing a complete stranger has ever done for me. What a cool chick. I was so overcome with gratitude and shock, I thanked her about 300 times and told her she was the coolest damn person in this whole crazy cow town.

I should have invited her to come have a drink and be my new bestie.

But instead of friend requesting this cool chick, I waddled over to Chik-Fil-A with my substantial savings and had a greasy meal. Which I realize just compounds the problem of trying to squeeze my gelatinous ass into a pair of new jeans.

But hey, it’s been a weird day, and I need no other reason than that to woof me down some waffle fries.

So then I wander through Macy’s on my way out of the mall and while I am browsing in the hefty honey section, I glance to the left and what do I see?

A Godiva chocolate merchandiser. Beautifully placed candy from heaven. Tasty, sweet cream chocolate truffles and dark, rich coated almonds…in the FREAKIN’ FAT LADY SECTION!

Way to market to your target audience, you assbags. I wouldn’t buy your delectably delightful chocolate if it was my antidote for poison. Pucker up and pick a cheek, you phuckers!