Butter on peanut butter toast. I should have lost a hundred pounds by now, but I haven't. I was within one-fifth of a pound of doing so (technically), then bounced back up. This is excruciating.
Broccoli casserole, with mozzarella. I've been eating more calories now that I've started lifting. At first I lost anyway, so I thought it was OK. Now I don't know what to think. It's only going to get harder to force myself under twelve hundred while I continue to stall.
I asked my father for fiber supplements and he got me fiber laxatives, which, well, good. I never could have asked him for those. Of anything, they're probably to credit for the bout of loss. It's time to talk to him about EC stacking, if I'm going to just start shoveling pills into me in the hopes of them expelling fat out of me.
I wanted to get through the last of my regular cream cheese, so that's old school chicken stuffed with it. Don't know that I'll ever crack the nut of getting perfectly crispy bacon wrapped around it without breaking. Lifting weight has been all right. The equipment is not correct, but the chat was actually pretty ameliorating when I confessed how infantilized I felt by having my father influence my purchase so wholly. I'm very discouraged and confused.
Chicken, spinach and an egg. Frozen spinach has really become a true friend. It seems like the Deus Ex plate effect wasn't so anomalous. Only makes me want to play the game again, but I've got too much else to play.
I know that for a fact, now. Instead of doing real work, I made a list of every game I own but have not finished. Then I made a list of every game I do not own but want to either play or finish. Then I added every game I've finished but want to play again. Then finally, every game yet unreleased that I want to play. Organized by priority, alphabetically, alphabetically, and by release time, respectively. As I tweeted, making the list put me into a crisis of mortality. I will be dead before I ever find the time or will to play Ben There, Dan That.
I love making lists, though. The next day, I finally tried to list every game I've ever played by year. Still going. Doubtlessly losing many SNES platformers rented from Blockbuster in the aphotic recesses of my memory, and those games I do remember under the wrong year, but I'll forgive myself. Writing the list kept me oscillating between nostalgic misery and that old, comforting blanket of hobby.
For posterity (posteriority), the beef anus I made after seeing a life tip to poke a hole in your burger to keep it from shrinking or something. I also mixed this with ranch seasoning, so while it looked a mess, it was modestly watershed. Mixing the beef before cooking it improved the texture, and I also baked it in the oven, leaving me a lot of gravy to pour on the spinach.
Butterfish, which tastes better than it smells (after cooking it in two tablespoons of actual butter, obviously). I stopped writing weekly for The Player Character. Reading old Seasonal Lags, there was no comparison. I need time to work to my potential, and I'm also very lazy. I feel genuinely indebted to the other staff now that I'm not holding myself to their same standard, but for what it's worth, writing news came easily today. I do feel slightly unburdened. And I feel more optimistic about future Player Character projects. I do wish that I did have it in me to offer hebdomadal spiels at a consistent quality, but that wish is nowhere near as powerful as my wish to not bother.
I fucking went for it and added water to the second peanut butter bread batter, stupidly doing it straight from the faucet so I couldn't even see how much I'd added. Whatever. It paid off. The bread didn't rise significantly higher, but its texture is extremely breadlike. That's a ham, mayonnaise, and provolone sandwich. If you were physically (or emotionally) unable to taste peanut butter, you'd never know the difference.
No comments:
Post a Comment