Blocked

I am currently suffering from an incredibly awful case of Blogger's Block. In order to get over this I plan to throw out random bullcrap just to see if this gets me over the hump. If it does, Hurrah! If it doesn't, well shit, I dunno.

From the 'I'm the best wife in the history of evar' file:

Thomas has been wanting some bling for a while now. We've wondered from shop to shop, store to store, trying to find the perfect accessory for him. You know the one. Blingy, yet not too blingy. Shiny, but something that doesn't scream, "Hey! I'm a guido! Just need a pinky ring and more chest hair and I'm good to go!". What better way to show your love for all things jewelry while still maintaining your non-douchebag status than to sport some lovely baby blue box bling?



Yes, I know, it's perfect. And even though his birthday isn't for another couple of weeks I couldn't contain my excitement. The day it arrived in the mail I proudly handed him the beautiful box and watched his jaw hit the ground. He knew exactly what it was before he even opened it.

Note the pillow the bracelet came wrapped around. In some places you buy a bracelet and it comes wired down to come piece of velvet lined cardboard. When you buy from Tiffany it comes with it's own PILLOW. And bag. AND box. Lord.Have.Mercy.


From the 'I too am growing tired of talking/hearing about my own weight loss' file:

I can't help it though, it's like I'm obsessed with it. I would bet you that I think about calories and carbs and protein and calories spent and workout routines at LEAST 8-9 hours a day. The rest of the time is filled with eating, sleeping, doing actual work, staring at the TV mindlessly, Mafia Wars, sex, and/or sleeping.

The eating itself is completely insane. I HAVE to eat in order to lose weight. Seriously. How insane is that?! It used to be that I would go one or two days without eating and I'd drop 10lbs like it was nothing. Now? HA! Yea, right. Now if I don't eat, I don't lose weight. I don't gain muscle, I don't lose fat.

Yes, I realize this is not a scientific breakthrough on my part. This has been known for many a years, BUT it's new to me.

I am so very very close to a HUGE goal. So close I can smell it, I can see it. It's hard though. If my eating isn't right I lose all energy. If I eat too much I feel weight down. Eat too little I barely have the strength to lift that curl bar once, let alone the three dozen times I'm supposed to. It's frustrating and exciting all at the same time.

The world outside of our home is a cruel place. Everywhere we turn is food that we shouldn't eat. Food that we can't eat. By can't I mean we can, but unless we want to live on Gaviscon and Pepto the rest of the night it's better that we abstain.

From the 'It's about damn time' file:

Let's all congratulate Thomas on his new writing endeavor - The Quest to be Broly: True Tales From A Non-Gym Rat.

In this blog we will follow my fabulous husband in his quest to become stronger, fitter, an healthier. However, not sexier because, you know, he's already at max capacity for that.

He is funny and witty and there are pictures! So go read it, dammit.


From the 'Welcome to Texas! Now let's drink beer and play with firearms' file:

Last weekend was my annual office Christmas party out on a ranch in the middle of nowhere. The greatest thing about being in the middle of nowhere is you can have bad aim and worst case scenario you might shoot a tree. Or a cow. Whichever.

You may find the entire set of photos here but these are a few of my favorites:


It was cold out there. Like super duper freezing red nose cold. The booze and the Baileys in my coffee definitely helped.


I think someone was feeling pretty good at this point. We all headed out to the field to get our shootin' on.


Moo


He is so very very gangster.


Ugh. Seriously. Must I cheese it up in every single fucking picture?


There we go. Much better. Bad ass status: Confirmed!


Speaking of bad asses...


The bad assness was short lived. Oh well. At least I look cute with my pink gun.


We are so super cute. Finished shooting, heading back to the house for warmth. And more beer.