Fake Samuel

I was out all night last night. Partying. Insane. The chicks are all over me, of course. Think I'm "so cute" and whatever. I've been hitting the sauce a lot lately. Applesauce. Anyhoo.

So I've been a bit cranked lately. Some have referred to it as " crankerpants ". Don't ask me, I'm not a doctor so i can't say for sure, but let me give you my side of things. See the thing is - GIVE ME WHAT I WANT. Its really fairly simple.Anyway on to current events: Did you know there are balls outside? And cars and the mail and trees and the sun? Its all there AND its occasionally above freezing so I get to go see them. The other day it was dark and kinda wet and there were these cold little balls falling from the sky making an awful racket in the house but The Folks wouldn't let me go see. Anyhoo , I'm gonna go google ' crankerpants ' and find out what The Father was talking about. I get all freaked out about diagnoses until I see whats really true out there on the internet , mostly chat rooms and forums moderated by users like " fibromyalgiachick 324" and " narcseeker 03." These people are out there for us,...

I have my people looking into this - we're pursuing possible legal action.

I've been working on increasing my cardio routine and I just don't have the time in the day, after I get home, and nap, and snack, and nap again, to get back to the gym. And its way to cold to run outside. So i've been using this pedometer - pretty cheap, only tracks walking, no crawling - to try to increase my daily workout. Its harder than I thought. I mean when you pretty much spend your day running from one room to the other, following whatever random thought comes into your head or whatever sound might have been made anywhere in the house, or a flushing toilet or a car going by or the dishwasher opening or a door opening, anyway, its hard to get more steps in than I already do. Maybe I'll look into wearing weights on my ankles. Anyhoo.

Here's the thing. I want what you have. If you're eating, I want it. And don't try to fool me with this jar food crap, because I'm not buying it anymore. Yea, it was ok, but there must be some reason why you're not eating it. So from now on, I want that. More specifically, dat. Dat being whatever you have in front of you. UPDATE: This now applies to things other than food.

As I look back over the past 12 months, I've come to realize that life outside the belly, once you subtract out all the inconsistencies and duplicities of ordinary existence, once you realize the full potential of everything that flies in the face of your own personal Magna Carta, after teasing apart the fine teeth that separate the hardships of life and the things that make life somewhat unattainable, that after all this, when you take it all with a great big spoon and put it back in the cereal box because you took too much and theres not enough milk to cover it all, or well, you do have milk, but its kinda old or looks/smells old and you're not sure what the date is anyway but you put it back in the fridge because you can't get to the store until later this week. Look, I still can't pick up a spoon, I poop and pee my pants, The Folks won't let me drive, and I lost my fake ID at the track last weekend. Life's ok, its just such a pain. Or, well, not a pain. ...

Its hard enough trying to convince the folks that I'm "learning" how to walk (when I want to take off and head over to Buffalo Wild Wings like I did last night after "bed time") but this whole blogging thing is just a pain in the butt. Everytime I get near the computer the Folks are on me. They haven't figured out that I leave the house most nights, but they have a 6th sense to know that I'm 5 feet from the keyboard. And from what I hear they're going to move it into their bedroom, to make room for who knows what. Probably to do another crappy home improvement job.