My Effin' Epic Road to Exercise Glory: Ima be a machine that runs on butter and hate

Wednesday, March 16th in the Year of Our Lord 2011

I haven't done a single thing since last Thursday. I feel actually kind of lazy. It's to be expected, since this is my last week of classes before Spring Break. I was planning on going swimming this week, but I've been low on underwear and the hell if I can remember to go do laundry on a regular basis [A/N: I'd just like to mention that my laundry basket is strategically placed in my closet that when I sit at my desk, I can always see it. I am now staring at it, wishing it'd freaking wash itself.] That being said, my last adventure into the wild and wacky world of exercising blew my mind.

Like always, I went swimming. I hadn't expected to do as many laps as I did so when my hour was up and I had realized that I had just swam 70 laps, of course part of my brain leaked out of my ear. Looking back, I think I may have miscounted a few laps (like 10...20?) but I still cling to the fact that I did 70 laps in an hour. Not that I'm ever going to try to do better than 70, that'd be absolutely crazy on my part. Every inch of my body ached for the rest of the day and a better part of Friday.

Oh my God, I just checked my calendar to see what I did on Thursday and I must've lost all my sanity because it looks like I not only went swimming, I went to the Allen Center for an hour. BROWNIE PUDDING PIE. It's all coming back to me now! I was watching Barefoot Contessa on Food Network and all I wanted to do was stick my sweaty face in the warm brownie pudding pie she had pulled oh-so sexy-like from the oven and placed on the counter. OM NOM NOM.

Is anybody else hearing angels or is that just me?

I remember what was so funny about watching TV that afternoon at the Allen Center. Before Barefoot Contessa seduced me with brownie pudding pie and mini-meatloafs (I wanted to eat all of them in one sitting), my archnemesis appeared on the TV.

That's exactly my facial expression when I watch her show.

Giada De Laurentis can go die in the fiery, fiery pits of Hell. I hate her with every fiber of my being. I'd rather be strapped to a chair and forced to watch reruns of Paula's Kitchen and Semi-Homemade with Sandra Lee than watch this horrid bitch.

"Look, y'all! I'm riding a ham!"

Majestic.

I'm sorry about that. I Google Imaged "Paula Deen butter" and have spent the better half of ten minutes dying at what people have PhotoShopped Paula Deen sitting on. There's one of her on an ostrich that kills me every time I see it.

AHAHAHAHAHA...Ha...ha...ahem...

Giada De Something-in-Italian-that-pisses-me-off-every-time-I-have-to-write-it was cooking for a party she was having in her swanky uptown apartment in You Can't Afford to Even Breathe Here, USA. This party was showing off pieces of artwork that her so-called "friend" Davis had made. Davis was paralyzed in a horrific car accidents (they had to show the obligatory "in the hospital with tubes sticking out everywhere" picture). He only has use of his pointer finger and thumb, and he paints these beautiful abstract pieces. I actually kind of wanted a print from him myself. Giada made all these DISGUSTING appetizers for her guests and when one of them inquired about Davis's whereabouts, she said this:

Giada: "Oh, I never got a chance to invite him."

Oh, of course. You're SO busy with your fake cooking skills that you neglected to invite the person whose artwork adorns your walls. I think the real reason was that her building didn't have a wheelchair ramp or an elevator and didn't want to mess up her perfect set-up with a motorized wheelchair.