I decided to abstain from going out this week. Last week, hitting the bars equaled late night adventures. I mean... every night last week was fun, interesting, exciting, shameful, and expensive. At least two of those nights I would not take back.
So this week, I'm staying home. I've accomplished some things: applied for a passport, done November's invoicing, paid a few bills.
I'm home... watching The Biggest Loser because god forfucking bid I watch another South Park or Family Guy for all the money I spend on television. I should say home every night and watch three hours of television to get my money's worth.
The Biggest Loser. Exploiting fat people for ratings. I can dig it... the stories are inspirational even if a lot of the emotion is contrived. The hostess, Alison Sweeney, has all of the genuine feel and personality of my flaccid cock. I mean, she's sort of hot in an approachable way. If she was in a bar, I'd drink until she found me attractive. Then I'd have sex with her.
And holy fuck... If that Jillian chick yelled at me while working out the way she yells at the fat fucks struggling on treadmills, I'd have a fully erect four-inch-boner during the 10 minutes I'd last while jogging. She'd ask "are you finished?" and I'd reply "on the treadmill or in my shorts?" She's hot and mean. I like a girl that treats me like shit.
Obviously.
I'm on glass #2 of a $3.00 bottle of wine. It tastes just like a $4.00 bottle of wine. Bargain.
I've never dug the super skinny chicks. I know it's cliche, and it's something that a lot of guys say to fuck fat chicks, but it's true. I just saw Keira Knightley in a Chanel commercial and I'm pretty sure I could see her back ribs. Not sexy. If she turned me on, I could probably jerk off to a 1984 issue of National Geographic featuring Ethiopia.
I hurt my neck Thursday. I haven't lifted or worked out too much since then. Really, really bumming me out. I'm going to wash a Tylenol PM down with this last sip of vino and call it a night.
Gooch:Out
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