Open Letter to Marty McFly

An Open Letter from Doc Brown to Marty McFly

Dear Marty-

Having recently reviewed the surveillance footage of the events of the night you went back to 1985, I couldn’t help but be slightly taken aback by your spurious reasoning of only allowing TEN FUCKING MINUTES to save my life. Ten minutes??? Really. You actually thought that you could get from the Courthouse to Twin Pines Mall (I’m sorry, I mean LONE Pine Mall now – way to run over a tree) in ten minutes. What the hell did you think that could accomplish? What were you going to do? Vanquish the Libyans with your shortness? Yeah, I said it. YOU’RE TINY. Listen, you little feathered-haired leprechaun, any one of these Hill Valley mouthbreathers would have had the good sense to go back, oh I don’t know, AT LEAST A DAY to give me time to prepare for the Middle East extremists and their Summer of Love van of fucking DEATH, what with having a device that has mastered the dimension of TIME and all. And I’m INCLUDING Biff in that group. You are lucky that I have a compulsive disorder when it comes to taping paper back together. Otherwise you’d have been as useless as Einstein with a Vernier caliper. Mark my words, Stuart Little, as SOON as I get this DeLorean up and running again (thanks for turning my car into a fucking lightning rod, BTW) I SWEAR I am going to go back and convince Jennifer to dump your Hobbit ass so you can go on that dumbshit camping trip alone.

Thanks for watching me get shot twice,

PS - You’re fucking CHICKEN.

Stuff

I don't like stuff. I mean i like certain stuff, but most stuff I don't like. The problem, especially with Americans, is that we collect stuff. Why? Because we can. If people that couldn't collect stuff, could collect stuff, they would. Not only do we buy things we don't need, we buy things we don't need and don't even like that much. We might not ever use it. Or we'll use it once or twice, then it becomes a dust magnet somewhere in the trenches of our home. Then, there are free things. I guess in an attempt to get rid of these things, we give them away to other people, damn well knowing their irresistible urge to collect stuff.

Hey, you never know when you'll need a 20 pack of Super Hook Wall Hangers (as seen on TV). Perfect for home, office, or school. Holds up to 100 lbs. And, no, i haven't used one yet. But I have them, just in case. Heck, I could plug two of them into a wall and it would support my weight. I could install a floating chair from the wall!

Recently, I've been trying to get rid of stuff. Most of it is garbage. Other things I've been giving away. I can't take it anymore. Stuff!!!!! I don't want! My ideal home is very simplistic. I would call it Post-Modern Chic Minimalism. I want the homes that you see in the magazines - the ones you look at and say, "no one lives there." But I want to live there.

So, anything I come across in my home, I look at it and it gets judged. Do I need this thing? Has anyone used it in months? No? Bye-bye.

So take this as a warning, stuff. Your time is up.

1st Goal Reached!

I'm 170! Lost a total of 9 lbs. My next goal is 159 lbs. It'll be gradual, but I'll get there.

Dominoes of Death

Police discovered that the Santa gunman who killed 9 people earlier this week and then himself had recently lost his job and wife. It's horrible. It should be illegal to lose a job or leave a spouse if one or the other had recently happened. Some other things that should be factored in: the death of a spouse or close family member, a pet running away or dying, your best friend cheating on you, your house burning down, being paralyzed in an accident, finding out you have a terminal illness...you get the point. Of course it's impossible to prevent certain things from happening, but in certain cases, maybe it should be mandatory that if ANY two of the above-mentioned items or similar events happen to one person, they are immediately rushed to a facility for evaluation and treatment. Oh, we can also factor in losing your car keys. Man, I hate when that happens.

PS: I haven't weighed myself recently. I'm afraid. The holidays suck with endless supplies of snacks and desserts. I'll weigh in next time...after I've run a marathon on the treadmill.

5 lbs and naming underwear

Ok, I've lost 5 lbs since my last post. Go me! The medical recommendation for my height is 136 - 179 lbs. For the record, I'm already within this range, but more toward the higher end. I'm working toward getting to the lower end (and eliminating some of my OWN lower end, if you know what I mean.) The average weight that other people of my age, height, weight and gender would describe as their ideal weight is 170. So my first goal is to get to that weight. Of course, men tend to say their ideal weight should be higher than what is healthy (and women do the opposite). So after that goal, I should strive for even lower. There are many tables that have been created for ideal height/weight ratios. According to a table created by Metropolitan Life Insurance company in 1979, the lowest range for my height is 157. From there, I would love to be back at 145-150 again.

1st goal: 170
2nd goal: 157
Final goal: 145-150

Does anyone have a favorite pair of underwear? I do. I call him Blue. Oh, what? You don't name your underwear? I do. They all have names. I didn't start doing this until I was in my 20's. I don't know why, but it's fun. Hey, if you can make ANY part of your life a tad more enjoyable, I say go for it.

Some other names of my undies: Baby Blue, Turtle, Frogger, Algebra, Lumberjack, Midnight, Skyscraper, St. Robert (cause they're holey...get it, holey, holy), and Electric Lemonade.

If you haven't tried naming your underwear, you're missing out.

Tread on me

I've never been good at gaining OR losing weight. My body just likes to weigh what it weighs. I can eat like a horse (do horses really eat a lot?) or eat nothing for weeks and I will always maintain my weight. Girls get jealous when I say this. Guys don't care.

Since I started at my new job over a year ago, I've been fairly sedentary. I love sports, jogging, hiking, and just being outdoors in general, but(t) this year has been a Sit On My Ass year, pretty much. Well, I did jog some over the summer, but not as much as years before. And winters are notoriously bad for me, since I have trouble jogging outside in the cold.

I feel unfit. Not that I'm overweight by anyone's standards, but I'm gonna try to lose some pounds. I'm cutting back fast foods & processed foods and I'm getting back into a routine again, especially now that I moved my treadmill to the bedroom. It previously resided in my basement, where I couldn't use it without hitting my head on the ceiling.

So, since this is a blog, I guess I should keep a log of my progress. So, today marks 0 lbs lost. I'll weigh myself everyday and post the stats as I write my entries here. Wish me luck.

Milk & Cookies

**Caution** This blog entry might forever be remembered each time you have milk and cookies.

If there was such thing as a food orgasm, it would be the utter ecstasy experienced when you drink milk after having cookies:

You wake up and have breakfast. It's a nice first meal, but the day is young and things just don't work out in the end for the two of you. You complain that you don't like the taste of orange juice after brushing your teeth...the breakfast complains that you don't appreciate it enough. Typical first meal kind of stuff. Blah, blah. You break up and move on.

After working for a little bit, you start snacking on some stuff that's bad for you. These one night stands are nice, but it makes you feel guilty. What if all these snacks ruin your real meal? Finally, you stop playing around and decide it's time to get back in the game again. With all the choices, it's difficult to choose a lunch, but you make your choice and go with it. Damn. It has tomatoes on it! You try to take the tomatoes off, and the sandwich is like, "why are you trying to change me?" You say, "this isn't what I wanted!" It says, "we'll you knew what you were getting when you got me! I should have listened when they told me what happened with breakfast!" You get an upset stomach, blah blah. You break up and move on.

Now that you're on the rebound, you start snacking again...hardcore. You're not even hungry, but your eating junk food like there's no tomorrow. You finally realize that this isn't the way to go. A friend reassures you that every time you lose a meal, a newer, better meal is right around the corner. Time goes by so slowly. You count the minutes.

It's getting late, and you are starving. It's time to get serious. You look around and decide very carefully because you only get one shot at this last meal. Finally, you have a date with a dinner at a restaurant. You dress nicely, and get some foreplay appetizers. Mmmm! The smell and savory bites really work you up, but just so subtly enough to make you crave more. You kiss the wine and order your carefully selected dinner. You imagine what it'll taste like...all the herbs and spices and aromas. You race to finish the appetizers and before you know it, your dinner slowly comes down to your table. The presentation is marvelous! All those curves and the colors!! You start salivating. It's just as you imagined! As you stick the first bite into your mouth, euphoria kicks in. It's like magic. You begin eating and your mouth provides more saliva to lubricate the food going down your throat. Things even get a little messy, but you don't care. A spoon falls on the floor, yummy noises are being made, and you're so proud of the all the moves you have with alternating the eating and drinking and combining certain foods. The waiter comes over, but you're like, "Not now!" But you soon realize, you'll need something special at the end of this meal. You yell out "Milk and Cookies!!!!" You scrape up the last morsels as fast as you can. You start licking the plate and then...and then...the waiter releases the plate of cookies in front of you and places the milk down next to it. You barely have time to breathe before you start shoveling the cookies into your mouth. Faster and faster, you devour the cookies, crumbs and all until they are all gone. The tension builds as your esophagus becomes partially clogged with gooey cookie heaven. You feel it coming. You KNOW it's coming. You reach for the tall glass of milk, raise it to your lips, lift the glass up and begin the most incredible swallowing orgasm that ever existed. Each gulp contracts your throat muscles as your eyes roll back and your toes curl tightly. YES! YES! YES! burp.

That, my friend...is milk & cookies.