Is BBQ Supposed To Give You So Much Regret?

So last/Tuesday night after work (and after dropping off my property taxes), I went to this barbecue place relatively close by that I have heard a lot of good things about.  And I love BBQ, so I looked through reviews to see what people really liked -- and I tried pretty much all of the best recommendations, namely this place's pulled pork, ribs, brisket, and mac 'n' cheese.

It came in a relatively small tray.  I thought I would conquer it with ease.  In fact, all the items I bought were essentially half-orders, and looking at what I got, I regretted that I didn't go with full orders like I originally wanted.  Wow, was I wrong.  I finished up with the ribs, and the last two bones felt like climbing the sheer face of a mountain vertically.  After starting up just fine I hit a wall out of nowhere, and I can't help but think that the Unforgivable Wetness of 20 or even ten years ago would've wolfed all that down and ordered the same thing again.

No meat sweats, but even now I feel so logy, let alone fat.  All that meat felt good going down my throat, but now that all of that went through my stomach (and sure, my intestines, too), my tummy aches.  And I'm scared it's going to ache tomorrow.  How can I regret eating such good barbecue??

I Make Bad Choices

So I was at this bar last/Monday night for the WNBA Draft (the Lynx will rue that they chose Miles over Fam Thiam, book it).  I wanted to stay for the whole thing, but the wings I got weren't enough for me.  So I got these "Chicken Dunkers," and when the server asked me what else I wanted to go with it, I realized I may have gotten myself way over my head, or stomach.  And lo and behold, I got this small but bountiful basket of chicken ... well, they're smaller than tenders but bigger than nuggets, put it that way.  And there were tater tots, which I chose, interspersed with those.  I finished, but barely, and now I feel fat.  Because I am fat, and I make bad choices when it comes to eating.

I was so tired after coming home I went to bed after the news.  As I was falling asleep I realized that there's a bruise on my left knee.  Have no idea where I got it from.  I didn't bang something hard at work or at the bar.  Maybe it happened spontaneously.  Maybe my body's breaking down.

I make bad choices.

When I Socialize, I Eat ...

... and I had a group dinner on Friday and a friend's birthday dinner last/Saturday night.  I went to two places I haven't been to, and to celebrate, I ordered a lot of food.  And I ate it.  And I am fat, and I feel fat.  

Drank a bit, too.  Starting to feel like it's a bit much.  It certainly is wrecking my sleep schedule.  I went to bed early last/Saturday night because I was tired, and yet I woke up at 8.  And I see, as I type this, that the Gold Medal Game of the Olympic men's hockey tournament is going on now.  Everybody, and I mean everybody, is watching this Game ... and to celebrate, I think that I am going to go out to watch with other Americans, too.

I don't stop.  Even though, maybe, I should.

Doesn't Take Much For My Fucking Mother To Push My Buttons

I needed to talk to her last/Monday night about bills that came in.  I thought everything was done.  But she called back.  First of all, she called back during the weather forecast I wanted to watch, so that perturbed me.  Second of all, she worried about some stupid detail that she told me to take care of, namely writing checks instead of going online and paying herself.  And finally, she insulted me by explaining something to me that I already know and was also not what I was talking about.  That is probably due to the language barrier, but also because this happens all the time, I naturally get defensive about her condescension.

And I was being a good boy food-wise up till then.  I didn't drink any coffee at work; instead, I had a hot cocoa (given to me by my former supervisor two or three years ago) in the morning and tea in the afternoon.  After shoveling the driveway, I went out to use a gift card at a really nice brewery for chicken wings and two 5-ounce glass of different beers (plus a half-filled 5-ounce glass for free ... er, double free!!)  I thought I controlled my eating yesterday/Monday.  And then My Fucking Mother talks down to me and I'm wolfing down Dot's BBQ pretzel sticks to fill the hole she punched into my gut, and I feel all fat again.  Goddamn her.

She wants me to write and send out the checks in the morning.  I'll do it later tonight instead.  Because she can fuck all the way off.

Maybe Fuck Dinner

I am doing my level best to convey how upset I am that they have gone through and literally thrown away most of my stuff, but doing so in a passive-aggressive way so that I don't get thrown out of the house.  That's tough to do, considering that they still don't seem to give a shit.  But I might have been pushed to do something that could get their attention, if only because I am now tired of it myself.

Yesterday/Thursday was a no-spend day.  I was going to go in to work, leave work, and go home.  (I have my trepidations about doing that, but I will blog post about that at a later time.)  Work actually was light, light enough for me to come home at a decent hour, early enough to eat dinner with my folks.  But that didn't happen.  My Fucking Mother recently alluded to the fact that, because I had worked so late so often, My Fucking Parents don't eat dinner much, either.  So, regardless of when I come home, eating together has gotten quite rare in the last, oh, couple months, and we really haven't eaten together all that much since they came home.

What they do is leave food for me, and usually it's too much, way more than I would get for myself if we were eating together.  My Fucking Parents continue to say that I don't have to eat all the food they leave for me, but I know that's a goddamn lie.  I mean, they used the impetus of me spearheading donating my old car as an excuse to clean everything else I hold near and dear out.  (Don't care if that sounds like a conspiracy; I believe it.)  So I am under the gun to eat everything they laid out for me.  And for dinner last night, they laid out two pork chops, three pieces of Kentucky Fried Chicken, a bowl of spicy vegetables, tofu soup, and about a cup of rice.

That was so goddamn much it took me two hours to eat it all.  And I feel fat because I am fat after consuming that all.  And they're not even there.  So now, after they've taken everything important from me and done so under false pretenses, why in the fuck am I eating all this shit by myself?  If dinner is something we don't do anymore, why should I even eat at home anymore?  I mean, sometimes I will eat out.  But I am thinking that even on these no-spend days, I just go home and ... not eat.  And it doesn't matter if I get home late or early.  I just won't eat.  You know, I keep complaining about all this food and how it's fattening my belly and making me gain weight.  Why not ... just not eat?

And hey, it might send a message that I don't think we're a family anymore.  Because after the bullshit they just pulled, we're not.

Fasting Before Screening Starts In The Morning, I Guess

I have my workplace health screening in about ten days.  To make sure I meet enough of the metrics that will get me a price break on my health insurance, I thought I would get healthier in the lead-up.  I thought I would ease up on my pop, eat less and work out a little more.

Well, last/Sunday night, after the MNUFC Loss (oof, BTW), I was going to go to the Culver's across the street from Allianz Field, buy and eat a Deluxe Burger there, maybe get either a salad or a mashed potatoes and gravy and drive to BlackStack Brewing to eat that and chase it with a beer.  But then I remembered that STEPCHLD, a place I've eaten twice before, was going to close in a couple weeks.  I thought that I would make an evening out of it, but I figured that I could go to BlackStack Saturday inbetween the Lynx and United FC Games, and maybe I should go to STEPCHLD instead.

It closes at 9 on Sundays and the Match got out at 7, but I made it there with enough time to eat wings ... and then a burger and fries.  I ate the wings the first time I was there and the burger and fries the second time, and both were fantastic.  And I don't know if I will get another chance to eat at STEPCHLD again.  So even though the bowl of wings was more than enough, just in case, I got the burger and fries, too.  It was getting sketchy there at the end, but I ate the burger and fries with little difficulty.  And oh, after I downed my glass of orange wine I ordered alongside the wings, I bought a Mexican Coke to go alongside the burger and fries.

Good thing my screening isn't tomorrow.  And again, I had to do it in order to honor a place that had really good food.  But my plan on getting into shape will have to wait until morning at least.  Whoops.

Belt Broke

It's been really wearing for some time.  Naturally, I use only one notch.  It's not as if the size of my belly fluctuates wildly, even though I often think it does.  But because it does, I've been really using up that notch.  The area around that hole has gotten really, really torn up.

Still, I didn't think anything drastic would happen like it did at work yesterday/Friday.  I was using the bathroom on my lunch break, I was undoing my belt, and as I was pulling the end of the belt away from the, er, notching thingy, the end tore off.  I was holding the end of it in my hands.  Damn.

I made it through the end of the day, which included eating and drinking at Sociable and walking to Art-A-Whirl, both while in a steady downpour.  I just kept wearing the part of the belt that still was in the loops.  It sure as heck wasn't holding anything up.  Moreover, I'm wearing khakis whose button popped off because I'm so fat.  But the pants held up without any assistance.  I am very lucky.  But now I need to ... well, first I need to find new pants that have a button, but then I need to buy a new belt.  But where can I buy one that won't break off like this one does?  Belts are meant to be cinched, and cinching creates tears in the belt.  At some point it's going to tear, won't it?  Well, then again, I had this belt for barely two years, I think.  I need to find one that will last at least a little bit longer.

Too Much Food Anyway

I also wanted to eat out on Friday because I had eaten a lot, I think way too much, at home.  My parents cook splendidly and I'm glad I can eat, and for free.  But they make a goddamn lot, and they still make me eat a goddamn lot, and I swear I'm getting fatter and thus unhealthier.  So yes, I understand eating fast food is much less healthy and I am spending money while doing it.  So, if I can control how much I eat, that should be good for me, right?  Well, that plan goes out the window if the restaurant screws up the order, which they did, technically.

OK, so I got home, grabbed my phone which was on my bed all day Friday, was going to tell my parents I was here and then leave but realized they didn't give a shit, and went to my car to order Chipotle.  I had free birthday guac, so I bought chips, and since Chipotle gives you a lot of chips, I didn't think I needed more than one taco (and I got their new chipotle honey chicken) and pop and I would be good.

What I have noticed since the pandemic, with the resulting rise in mobile ordering and the possibly-causal decrease of staff working at these places, is that orders sometimes get real screwed up.  I usually don't do anything because, yes, I'm cynical enough to think it won't make a bit of difference.  But there has been more than one occasion where I have been given more food than I ordered, and that was the case here.  I suspected nothing when I took my bag directly from the workers who had just finished my order.  I intended to eat it there so I could just be at peace to start my weekend.  I noticed a bag within the bag, so that was the bag of chips.  I grab it ... and see another bag underneath.  They gave me two bags of chips?  And then I opened up the aluminum lid of the bowl in which I expected my one chipotle honey chicken taco.  And there I saw three.  (By the way, I only saw one cup of guacamole, not two.  I stopped to buy Top The Tater on my way home so I have something to dip the second bag of chips in.)

My guess is is that they were slammed with orders and were just getting them out.  I also guess that people usually don't order just one taco, so I assumed the workers just looked at the word "taco" and automatically made three.  That doesn't explain the two bags of chips, though, so maybe they wanted to give me a second bag of chips to make up for making me wait, even though I think I got there a bit before the ready-by time I was given on the Chipotle application.  Or they were being nice.  Or generous.  Or a combination thereof.

I know it's weird to complain about getting more food than you paid for.  But I have a waistline I have to tend to, I had a plan to watch what I ate, and dammit, I got all this good food again.  It wasn't unlike eating at home.  But I'm not stupid; I ate the three tacos (pretty good) and one bag of chips with the guacamole before I left.  And I got fat and I was happy I was given all this food.

And I think that, now that I'm done with this blog post, I'll start working on the second bag of chips and the Top The Tater.

Too Much In Two Ways

Eating Mother's food is a double-edged sword.  Had egg rolls last night for dinner.  Damn, it's fantastic.  There might be one or two other things she makes that are better, but when I was devouring the egg rolls, it was the best damn thing she ever made.

However, I'm feeling the aftereffects of eating so much right now.  When I eat a lot of certain foods, I get thirsty as hell, and I am thirsty as hell, even as I type this.  I'm almost done with my Coke, but I'm not desperate enough to drink it all.  Had some lemonade that I'm almost finished with, too.  Drank all of the mocha I bought in the morning to bring into work, but let's face it, mochas aren't "quenching."  And while I need to drink more water, dammit, the water ain't cutting it.  I might need to buy a Big Gulp tomorrow if I'm still thirsty.

Oh yeah, there's also getting fat as hell.  That is one reason I kind of threw my parents a curveball late last night and told them I'm not eating dinner tonight.  If I do eat after work, I get to control what I eat, and I hope to Buddha I am smart enough to not buy something big.  Then again, I still might buy a huge bottle of pop.  And I might also feel as though I deserve to eat big if work is a bear today.  See, that's another reason I told my folks (well, just Mother, and I hope she told Father) that I'm not eating tonight.  The work that was supposed to come in from down South didn't.  There were hellacious storms (including nighttime tornadoes, yikes) that cancelled all flights from there.  I still stayed a half-hour over because there is just so much darn work in The Third Department -- and, as an addendum to my previous blog post, my boss gave me a quick rundown of all the changes that are to be made there yesterday, but I will hold off on talking about them until I implement these changes and see if they work -- but that indicates to me that there should have been a hell of a lot of work that came in yesterday, and that will (maybe?) come in today, along with the work that would normally come in today.  So we have two days' worth of work when I can obviously do only one.

See how the crap continues to roll down?  I'm fully expecting to be asked to come in to work tomorrow, and I'm debating whether to wake up early and do a normal day, come in for only a few hours so I can have lunch and dinner with my parents, or a hybrid of both.  (Heck, I'm still thinking I should take back not having dinner with my folks tonight because I might not have dinner with them tomorrow night.  We probably will be that backed up.)  And that affects something else I need to do: My taxes.  Yeah, I haven't even started on them yet.  I was going to this week, but I got both depressed over my team and tired because of, well, me, and so I was going to do them this weekend, but this damn storm has upended everything and given me the opportunity to take back the paid time off I took Tuesday and Wednesday.  Maybe I shouldn't take that opportunity; I really do need to look at my tax forms now.  But I won't make that choice until I absolutely have to, because that's, well, me.

Ate Too Much (Again)

Ever eat so much that you feel like throwing up?  That even smelling more food made you nauseous?  That is how I felt after eating at this steakhouse/supper club after work last/Friday night.  They are very generous with their birthday coupon -- $25 off!!!  So I had to use it for their most expensive sirloin ... and the hashbrowns, bread, and watermelon in a cup (?) that went along with the dinner.  Thank God I had an Old Fashioned, a Coke and a water to wash it down or else it wouldn't have been good.

But for all the times I complain and hate myself for eating a gigantic meal, believe me, what I did last night was insane (well, that or I am getting old).  I didn't think I was going to be able to walk out of there.  I felt like the guy who died via "gluttony" in Seven, only this was self-inflicted.  I had to walk around Hy-Vee to feel like I got any sort of exercise to work out the food, even though I had a lot of meat sweats that set in after I got done eating (although I then realized I needed to buy travel-sized Kleenex).  And then I fell asleep, which helped my body deal with it all.

As I write this I'm still full, but not as stomach-bursting like several hours ago.  And yet I brought home the second helping of bread that I was so generously given.  I think I can keep these until lunch today.

My Final Blog Post Of 2024 Is Another Reminder Of Why My Fucking Mother Has Ruined My Life

I was going to neatly tie up 2024 into a bow (well, as well as I can), but My Fucking Mother fucking had to send this shit off the rails with her goddamn anxieties again.

She bugs the fuck out of me while they're here, but it appears as though she bothers me even more when she's in Vegas.  I think that's due to expectations: Since they are so far away from me, I presume that we would talk less.  And I think we do; for example, even though I thought we would talk Christmas Day, we didn't, probably because we talked Christmas Eve.  And that's A-OK with me.

But when she texts me saying she needs help ... goddamn, the thing she needs help with is such a huge energy drain.  It literally takes hours to deal with her issue.  And it's an issue only she believes is an issue.  But I have to help her because that bitch acts so fucking helpless.

She texted me at work yesterday/Monday afternoon: "Need help!"  I get home and call her.  She tells me these real estate forms need to be filled out.  The government wants them, and she's scared as hell that, like, the FBI will arrest her if we don't do it before the end of the year ... even though the stuff she said told her that actually said she had a couple more weeks.  These forms are in English, of course, so she immediately ran to me, only to switch up her tone and just fuckin' saddle me with all this bullshit I need to deal with with an urgency only she has.  So fucking typical of her and her goddamn "issues."

These forms the government wants filled out I didn't even know existed until today.  And I had to waste two motherfucking hours with My Fucking Mother to do them online.  Worse than that, I screwed up one of the forms, and I'm not sure the website on which I did these forms took up the corrected information.  So I think I have to follow up today, some time after work, to see if some AI chatbot can let me know if the "government" has the correct information.  And who knows how long I'll have to fucking waste on that.  It's New Year's Eve, for fuck's sake.  I'm supposed to mark the death of the old year and say hello to the new one.  I don't want to spend it dealing with goddamn forms.

---

This year was bad because I lost my uncle.  I feel bad because I hadn't contacted him much before he died.  I think the last communication I had with him was wishing him a (Western) New Year via text.  He was gone within two months.  He didn't want anyone to talk to him in his decrepit state.  I don't care; I wanted to at least say goodbye to him and tell him I love him.  And I'll be honest (if I haven't stated this here in WAF already): I'm mad at him for not talking to me before he went.

Come to think of it, 2024 brought more signs my body is breaking down.  I saw someone for my knees after work yesterday/Monday.  She said it's probably arthritis, which everyone my age is going through.  Use exercises to get manage it.  I think I heard that before when my physical therapist told me to exercise my back.  I was given a referral for physical therapy for my knees, and there's a chance it's the same person who I met with five years ago.  I don't think the guy likes me, though, so I don't think I'll take up the referral.

Gaining weight, too.  I know I should eat better, but I'm still holding onto the delusion that I can eat what I want and not get too fat.  That's not happening, but I'm not changing my diet.  Oh, and I'm still dealing with trying to do my desk job with bifocals on.  Had a lot of trouble seeing with my eyeglasses in 2024.  My eyes got so strained looking at my computer screen that it began to hurt.  I even take them off and see my screen through blurry eyes.  It beats getting a headache.

Everything else, I guess, is the same, including dealing with My Fucking Mother.  Every fake emergency she makes me deal with reminds me that I got my anxious state of mind from her.  She has grafted every part of her insecurities onto me, and I cannot and will not forgive her for that.

Happy New Year!!!

Fuckin' Did It Again

I overate again.  I went to Taco Bell again, last night, after seeing the University of Minnesota beat South Dakota St. in the First Round of the NCAA women's soccer tournament, 2-0, and to celebrate, I went to Taco Bell.  This time, unlike Thursday night, I was able to eat what I ordered without trouble, namely a tostada (an item from the '60s TB brought back) and a green sauce burrito (from the '70s).

But then, I got hungry again.  Or, I thought I was hungry.  Or, I just wanted to celebrate the Gophers' Win.  Or, I just didn't want to leave Taco Bell.  There is a deal on the TB application that I can buy, like, an empanada for a buck if I eat the four discontinued items on their "Decades" menu.  I already at the two others, the meximelt from the '80s and the gordita supreme from the '90s.  But dammit, I wanted to eat more!  And so I ordered the meximelt and the gordita supreme, just to make absolutely sure I qualify for that empanada, even though I don't like their empanadas and probably won't take them up on their offer to buy one for a buck.  And I ate both, even though my stomach signaled I was full by the time I got to the gordita supreme.  I will say this, though; I miss the meximelt so, so much.  I really enjoy that item from Taco Bell, I really do.

Anyway, I ate too much, again.

All Over A Plate Of Fries

I overindulged with food again last night.  Once again, my long-held belief that I'm getting fat because my parents make me eat too much food at home is upended when I eat too much on my own.

After work last night I had this screening for a research study at the University of Minnesota.  But this wasn't on campus.  Instead, it was in north Minneapolis.  And I heard of a new restaurant just north of there that is kind of recommended.  I say kind of because I checked on Yelp and the reviews, especially when it comes to the food, haven't been universally kind, shall we say.  I thought about not going.  But ... well, I don't know the next time I will be in that part of town, and everybody seemed to like the drinks, so I decided to wedge a visit there between the experiment screening and Taco Bell, where I planned to finally eat that night.

And then, once I go to this relative new place, I caved and got an order of fries.  The fries weren't generally condemned, I don't think.  Besides, it was fries.  I figure it is hard to screw up, and even if it were, it's the cheapest item on their menu.  Now, they were good, even though I wish I had gotten a much bigger cup of aioli.  But it was a lot.  It was shareable size, and I was the only one eating it.  And my stomach got so full that I wondered whether I could even eat at Taco Bell.

But I made the decision to eat at Taco Bell anyway.  I altered what I would get, going from three food items to two.  But eating even a Mexican Pizza and their new street chicken chalupas was difficult.  I was so full that consuming them was not enjoyable, if you know what I mean.  And now, waking up after a four-hour sleep that's really a nap, I feel -- a bit bitter, but still plenty full.  Really, I feel as fat as I have ever felt.  All because I decided to have fries with my drink, dammit.

I've Had A Bad Day Since, Oh, Dinner Or So

Dinner at home last night was great.  But I ate at a Brazilian steakhouse Sunday night, so I'm already full, plus I have been fat for a while, so what we had last night isn't helping the waistline.  And I won't be going to the gym anytime soon, I'm afraid.

I was leading in all three of my fantasy football teams, including the one I care about because I have money in it, the one in which I have money.  But then Monday Night Football went into Overtime and Kareem Hunt scored the Game-ending Touchdown.  My opponent had Kareem Hunt.  He came back to win.  The guy I just choked away the lead to was winless until last night.  I still lead him in the standings, but I'm next-to-last in the league.  I checked, by the way; I was good four years ago.  That's the only reason I haven't thrown myself off the roof of my house.

Just woke up from a nightmare where, for some reason, I climbed a tree, then realized I was really high up and I froze because I'm afraid of heights.  People offered to climb up to help me.  One dude tried and fell to the ground; I don't know what happened to him.  The others helped me down -- quickly, actually, so quickly that I realized when I got down on the ground that I wasn't as high up as I thought I was.  Whoops.

Oh, and today's Election Day.  Will we still have a democracy after tonight?  Who bleepin' knows?

It's Also Weight-Shedding Season

I'm eating too much.  Then again, I don't think I'm eating more than I usually do, even though it's, you know, too much.  But like the leaves turning brown and red and orange and yellow and the grass no longer growing, I now believe that with the downturn in the temperature, my body is also shifting into something akin to hibernation.

I stumbled upon this theory this week, when I felt noticeably heavier than before.  I'm not sure if I'm gaining weight, even though that is a possibility.  But I remember past autumns where I don't have the urge to eat as much as I have during the summer.  That sometimes coincides with an upset gastrointestinal system, which leads to, uh, going to the bathroom a lot.  That hasn't happened yet (I'll try to add more fiber to my diet to get that going), but that this happens this time every year (at least I think) makes me believe that my body really, really doesn't want nor need to carry all the food I eat around, and is doing all it can to tell me to stop shoving food in my face.  When it's cold, my body shuts down because it doesn't feel as though I need that much energy as I would when it's warm out.

Now, whether or not I will heed this signal is another thing entirely.  My parents made excellent food last night, and I chowed it all down.  I don't regret it, but my body might reject it, if you know what I mean.  We'll see when or if I control my calorie intake.

Just sent four e-mails to four separate groups of alumni.  I am coordinating a group sale of tickets to our alma mater's football Game against the Golden Gophers here in October.  I may have gone above and beyond -- and possibly completely unnecessary -- by listing out, by section and by row, the number of seats available to be bought.  Some of the groups in my group sale want to sit together, and so I spent ... oh, somewhat less than an hour looking through sections and seeing how many seats are still open.  Have no idea if these guys are going to even use the information.  The e-mails are so long that I can't ensure they're going to read them.

I didn't think I would do these e-mails (four of them in total) until I decided it was the right thing to do in the evening at the community center, where I worked out for the first time in a month.  I was ready to eat healthy and give my stomach a break tonight.  But I needed something to keep me going through all the looking and listing and e-mailing, so I broke ate several Chips Ahoy! cookies which I washed down with the coffee left over from work.  Yes, I think I undid my exercise.  Oh, well.

Yesterday/Wednesday Was A Low-Key Not-Good Day

Despite having a relatively slow and easy day at work, it was a bad day.  Why?  Allow me to list them:

• Well, the world.  I just don't understand how a fucking demented, racist and convicted felon who has vowed to do the bidding of conservative oligarchs to implement what basically is fascism to America isn't thrown into the fucking ocean instead of being nominated for President, and, more weirdly, everybody looks at one debate, doesn't look at what Joe Biden has done, and is demanding he drop out by insinuating that everybody close to him wants him to drop out.  (Seriously, the journalism surrounding this ... for lack of a better word, "plan" is so coordinated that it seems fishy.  Really, it feels like some trick a Republican would make up.  And it sure as shit ain't journalism.)  Everywhere, no one cares the fire is spreading, and no one wants to speak about it.
• Got yelled at by a customer.  I was doing my job, making sure a test gets run, and she goes, "You are delaying testing."  Asshole, I am doing my job.  Also, you are not the one who gets to tell me how I'm doing my job.  I would rather not shunt dealing with prick customers to someone else, but I think I only do it for, like, two companies.  I think I can add a third.  I really think I need to so long as I am at this job, because I was close to saying something I should not have said.
• During the day I called the ticket rep to whom I'm coordinating this mass purchase of tickets for my alma mater's football Game here.  I still don't know what to expect, but I got some clarity, and it's bad news, too: Most of the seats some of us want to sit in are already gone.  In fact, we might have to sit in the upper deck, and I don't know if they want to sit up there.  Also, we are going to pay a hefty convenience fee.  Oh, and we don't know when we can buy them.  All those factors are really harshing my mellow.
• Saw the Loons lose.  They lost handily and awfully, to Vancouver, 3-1, and it wasn't that close.  The Whitecaps scored their first Goal when they pounced on a piss-poor slow backpass to the Goalkeeper, who is the third-string one called up from their MNUFC2 reserve team.  Add a header where the guy out-jumped our guy by a full head, then add a completely unmarked guy getting a golazo from just outside the box, and these fuckheads have now lost five in a row.  And I'm giving these guys money as a season-ticketholder!
• Ate a lot.  I ate a whole lot the day before -- a roll Mother made for me to eat at work, then dinner, then a Cheez-It Crunchwrap from Taco Bell (although I don't think I got the Cheez-It), then I ate peanuts to keep me awake for the Colombia-Brazil Copa America Match, then I ate the banana Father made for me to eat at work.  Yesterday/Wednesday I had another roll.  On the way to Allianz Field some kids were selling cookies, so I bought one.  I ate this smashburger and mac 'n' cheese at the United FC Match.  Because they lost, I went to Kwik Trip to drink a Wild Cherry Pepsi.  Then I ate a banana Father packed for me.  I was wearing a medium USWNT jersey, and I could feel it wrap around my fat stomach, and I think I getting fat around my sides, too.  God, I need to exercise again.
• Finally, my car's acting up again.  The short rattling noises when I accelerate are back.  I haven't heard them for a while, but I have been accelerating slowly when I can.  If this is something getting worse no matter how much I baby my car, I will have to bring it in sooner than I want.

But hey, it's a midweek holiday!

Have Felt Fat Since Friday

I had the day off Friday.  Made the mistake of eating three times, each 90 minutes apart from each other.

I took the day off because I wanted to finally finish up my teeth cleaning at the University of Minnesota dental school.  The school has always recommended I finish get a ... what's it called, a varnish?  Insurance doesn't pay for it, but they say it revitalizes my enamel, and I should keep my teeth as strong as possible.

Unfortunately, as part of making sure the varnish sticks, I could not eat anything too hot, sticky or crunchy -- or alcohol -- for four-to-six hours.  That meant that my plans to eat a hamburger with potato chips and cocktail at this new dive bar (isn't that an oxymoron?) went out the window.  Or did it?  I decided that I may not be back there for a while, so I still went to the dive bar.  I just modified my order: I decided to upcharge my side from chips to french fries (the burger and chips are a lunchtime special) and drank water instead of alcohol.

However, I regularly check all my fast food apps, and Chick-Fil-A was giving out free chicken nuggets in conjunction with the Timberwolves playing in the NBA Playoffs.  I thought about just going to Chick-Fil-A, but ultimately decided I could eat a little at the dive bar, then eat a little at Chick-Fil-A.  I washed the nuggets down with a Cherry Berry Sunjoy, whatever that is.

I figured that whatever I eat for dinner at home I could cut back on, like a snack.  But dammit, that was the day Mother decided to make pho for us.  Normally I would it and scarf it down; it may be my favorite meal, definitely my favorite meal she makes.  Unfortunately, since I had a burger and fries and chicken nuggets and a sugary drink, I hit a brick wall when trying to finish.  Guess I shouldn't have asked for more soup, but Mother usually offers and I usually say yes.  Most of the added broth I couldn't eat, and there was some noodles and meat and green onions down at the bottom of the bowl I simply could not consume.  I feel ashamed.  Still do, days later.

And I haven't quite come down from feeling full since Friday.  That triple shot of meals over the course of three hours was a big, big mistake.  And I can feel it, and probably see it, whenever I look down at my fat belly.

Self-Destructive Much?

I was in a cool part of town to get my face shaved for my gig at the tournament this and next weekend.  I got out of work early, but they couldn't move up my appointment, so I was basically had to dink around the area for 90 minutes.  Went to the back bar at Young Joni, where I had a pizza and two drinks.  Hadn't been there in a long time, and I'm glad I squeezed myself back in there.

After my shave, I didn't want to go home because there was nothing there for me.  Well, I guess I could clean the house, but that ain't no fun.  But I didn't want to drive anywhere else.  I really wanted to go to Oro by Nixta; I have had their tacos at MNUFC Matches and they fantastic.  But it seemed crowded in there.  I could have gone to the 331 bar for another drink, but I was all drinked out.

So instead, I went to Anchor Fish and Chips.  I had their fish and chips once -- take-out during the pandemic.  Ah, good times.  Great food there, and it was great this time around, too.  But I had already eaten a pizza; what made me think I could eat a second meal?  But I tried, this time with the fish in a sandwich.  Unfortunately, the pizza made me too full.  Plus, the fish was huge, and the sandwich was sloppy.  I was able to drink my Coke; everything else I asked for a box (actually a tin) to take home.

And since I had been drinking, I dropped dead asleep at 9:30 and woke up at 2.  Knowing fish doesn't exactly keep as leftovers, and since I'm wide awake now, I'm heating all of this up in my oven.  And I'm washing it all down with some leftover muscato that's been in the fridge for a week.

So I ate -- and paid for -- two meals for dinner last night, and now I am eating leftovers from that second meal three hours before I have to wake up for work.  I think I can answer my own question that I put in the title: Yes, I am self-destructive much.

The Clothes I Am Giving To Goodwill

• The green Joe Boxer thermal underwear top.  I bought this from the K-Mart that used to be close by before it closed.  God, the memories there when I was young.  Anyway, there are big holes in both armpits, the left elbow is pretty shredded, and the right elbow is starting to be.
• A patterned pillowcase, one with a series of concentric diamonds, each side of which is a different color from the other sides of its diamond but the same color as the side that is radiating out, if that makes any sense.  This is so old I remember Grandmother using it.  (Miss her.)  It has a hole at the closed end, so of course that end isn't closed anymore.
• Khaki-colored GAP khakis, loose boot fit, 29x30.  It fit me once, but no more.
• A brand of jeans from Outdoor Life, a brand I've never heard of, so my parents got me this when they went to, like K-Mart or Kohl's.  Regular fit, 32x30.  Also fit me once, but no more.
• My green thermal underwear pants from Duluth Trading Co.  The elastic is no longer elastic.
• Lee khakis, 32x30, the ones you don't iron.  Don't fit me anymore.  By the condition of the khakis, I wonder how many times I worn these.
• Blue and beige square-patterned shorts from Canyon River Blues.  The pockets in the back had Velcro to shut it.  I remember Mother and I going to the Sears in Brookdale right from work at The Store because she wanted to buy something, and she encouraged me to buy something, and I needed shorts, so I got these that came with its own belt.  I do not know where the belt is.  They were good, roomy, and in my opinion stylish shorts.  Unfortunately I got fat enough to where the button popped out.  Also, these shorts were so thin that there is a huge horizontal rip on the back right side, right around where the bottom of my ass would be.
• Black or dark navy Gap khaki shorts, relaxed fit.  Only says 31; guess there is no need for an inseam measurement when it comes to shorts.  No longer fit in it.  The button has popped loose and is literally hanging by a thread.
• Brown Dockers, D3 (?), classic fit, 30x30.  These are some professional-looking khakis.  Unfortunately, my belly outgrew it.
• Mustard yellow khakis from Hunt Club, another label I've never heard, which is more evidence that my parents bought it for me, even though the purple label on the inside of the waist gives the pants some panache.  Measures 32x30, but as I can see from the lack of a button, I have gotten too damn fat for this one as well.

Ten pieces of clothing, all of which I will be donating after work today, January 23, 2024.