For F%#* sake

people...corn is not a vegetable, it is a starch. Last night was the third such event I have attended in the past month or two in which a buffet meal was served consisting of meat, cheesy potatoes and the "vegetable" was corn....Oh and don't forget the dinner roll. Thank God the void hates salad and I could eat his salad too.
I went for a run last night, okay, fine, a jog...down the road to the south was wonderful, heading back to the north, awful, as I was heading straight into the wind. It felt pretty good, though, and my thighs hurt a little this morning, so that is always a good sign. Someone tried talking me into running the 5K at Dam to Dam this year. She said that there are tons of people who run it, so it keeps you motivated to keep running and you are never the slowest...I beg to differ, she's never seen me run. I do however have a faster pace than someone else who shall remain nameless...I dunno, I'll debate that. Two 5K's may just be enough for me, we'll see.
I also had another random, "you've lost a ton of weight, girl" comment. It was followed by, 'what's your secret?" I was holding a can of Ultra that was swimming in it's koozie, so I said, "I drink beer out of skinnier cans." (Yes, drinking beer, yes we've had this conversation.) (Yes, I should have told him exactly what program I was doing, but I honestly think this was just one of those 'making conversation' comments and not one that was truly interested in the program. I've learned to decipher the difference.)
I'm going to get a few more random comments off of my chest today, as I feel the need to purge them, so bear with me....
The dumbass I work with, who technically doesn't work in my office anymore, but still stops by almost daily to annoy the fuck out of me, is REALLY annoying the fuck out of me this week. It's a good thing he doesn't stay here more than about 10 minutes because A) I would punch him in the face and B) My tongue would be hamburger, because I have been biting it so hard in an effort not to reply to his fucking retarded commentary.
There are some people in this world who truly need reality checks on how "unimportant" they are, compared to how "important" the THINK they are. Seriously, would it kill you to say hello when spoken to? Especially when you are addressed by name? I do know the family in which you grew up and it was not a monarchy, you are not royalty, by any means, so can the "bow down before me princess act," bitch.
Dear Mr./Mrs. elderly person who brings in a newspaper clipping from another newspaper or magazine. I'm sorry, but no, I cannot just re-print this. It's called plagiarism. I will try to contact who actually wrote it and ask their permission to reprint it, but I'm positive that I cannot just re-type a 6 page magazine article and call it good, just because you say please.
On the same lines, Dear Mary Alice, Kiss my ass....real estate transactions are a matter of public record. They are a bitch to decipher and try to retype and no I don't have time to do it very often. You just want to be nosy, so hike your happy ass up to the courthouse and look it up yourself, if you are dying to know who bought what. I am only allowed to work 40 hours budget cuts that the schools and county are facing, visits from the state secretary of agriculture, a soldier surprising her son at school are all a little more fucking important ways to spend my 40 hours versus figuring out what the Jones's paid for the house down the street.
There is a real down side to losing a large amount of weight. Shocking, but true. Yes, the new shirts, jeans, etc in smaller sizes are great, but all new underwear is not so fun. Why you might ask? Because the new, smaller underwear is all "cutesy" shit. I have no plain old, womens version of a whitey tighty in my drawer. There are some days where you just really want a plain old pair of skivvies to wear under your sweat pants. You know, the kind that won't crawl up your ass when you're trying to get the cobwebs off your ceiling fan. Or the kind that you don't have to look at each direction three or four times to decipher which is the front and which is the back. (I have enough trouble with that the way it is.) So sadly, one of the next things I need to buy myself is a pair of granny panties. (At least I can comfort myself with the fact that they will be a smaller size.)