The first week of January it seemed like the entire blogosphere posted about New Years resolutions, kicking habits, changes for the better, blah, blah, blah . . .
I didn't create such a post. I didn't vow to change shit. I sat in my chair, squirting pasturized, processed cheese-like food from a can onto anything and everything, munching away while reading blogs and tweets and Facebook page comments. "Change? Who me?" I asked as I found new and interesting things to spray with fake cheese that is so orange, it practically glows in the dark. (My personal favorite new combo, by the way, is extra sharp cheddar-product squirted onto B-B-Q flavored potato chips. Don't try this one at home kids - its strictly for professionals.)
As they say, it's all very fun until someone gets their eye poked out. My day of reckoning didn't come on January 1. Know why? 'Cause I refused to step on the scales. I still had a half a can of that fake cheese left (not to mention that half-eaten bag of BBQ chips). So my day of reckoning didn't come - until yesterday.
What?! Is it possible that eating every cookie in the tri-state area, dunked in a McDonald's vanilla-iced-full-of-sugar coffee, is bad for you? You can't be saying that consuming an entire bag of chips covered in cheeze whiz will pack on the pounds, can you? And don't tell me that sitting on your ass 12 hours a day writing (and reading and tweeting and blogging and e-mailing . . .), the click of your mouse being your sole form of exercise - don't tell me that's bad for you!
Today, Manic Monday, is a sad day of reckoning. I say a hearty "Farewell" to my beloved friend, the cheese in a spray can. Adieu, mon ami, until next December when I'm sure that I will, once again, spend some time spraying your nuclear-age- orange, super-charged with sodium deliciousness on everything that doesn't move out of the way. *tears*
Gotta go now. It's time for my once-hourly attempt to touch my toes. I'll keep you posted.