That's right...

12 pounds so far.  Yeah, I know, pretty awesome, right?  Well, it's onwards and downwards (weight wise, dummy!) and the next installment is, I promise, PART TWO of my harrowing hospital experience!

Yeah it's been a while...

...but I've had my issues.  Let's give you a slight update, shall we?

Turned 42 in August.  Not my best birthday, I was pretty miserable about my situation (weight-wise and other stuff) but what can you do. 

Survived Hurricane Sandy.  Like an angry, scorned woman who found out you were schtupping that cocktail waitress at the bowling alley, Sandy came in at the End of October and broke all of the shit, everywhere around here.  To carry metaphor a little further, now all your broken crap is on the lawn as well and she's just a bad memory.  Fortunately aside from the lost food and money and 8 days without heat, hot water or lights, we made it through OK.

Started a new day job.  I like it more than the old day job for sure.  Handling two jobs a lot better this time out.

In the really good news department, I somehow in the course of the last month have lost 10 pounds.  PArt of it is my new philosophy of "Stop Eating Like an Asshole." 

I know what you're thinking, "Rich, how do I know when I'm eating when I'm eating like an asshole?"

My response is "Come on.  You know when you're eating like an asshole."

More to come very soon.

So, what weighs 40 pounds?

So, yesterday I discovered that over the last two years I have managed to undo all the good I did in the previous two years and crammed forty fricking pounds down my gullet and onto my frame again.
Things that weigh 40 pounds:

• a 15-foot canoe!
• My kid!
• 8 bags of sugar!
• an average human leg!
• a Soft Coated Wheaten Terrier!
• four of my dog!
• five gallons of water! (actually a little closer to fifty pounds, but for this exercise we'll go with it)
• and finally, this giant freaking cat!

Yeah, how about that?
For all intents and purposes I have that furry SOB sitting under my shirt right now! Metaphorically speaking, of course. O mean, OK, if I actually had him there all I would be doing is whipping my shirt up so girls would see that furry tub of Fancy Feast and go "Awwwww!" and...where was I going with this?*

*not to the gym, obviously, amirite?

New goal shirt! Also: stuffing 10 pounds of, well not "awesome," but *something* into a five pound bag...

So, yeah I was researching my previous Goal shirt here and here and discovered that, almost two years ago I was over 40 pounds lighter than I am right now!

Holy shit, kids, that's pretty sobering. I mean packing on 20 pounds a year is just stupid, any way you look at it. I'm really upset with myself. On top of it all I no longer fit in my old XL shirts comfortably, I am in XXLs. So, basically at 262.2 I have somehow expanded my mass? I'm actually 2 pounds less than when I started, and yet my body shape is way different.

Also, let's not talk about my hernia, either. I'll actually cover that later, I have a relevant post.

So, what was on about before? Oh,yes the new Goal Shirt. This is kind of a crummy picture of it, but welcome to my life lately.


Yeah, that's all 11 Doctors as owls. Yes, you're jealous as you well should be!

Here's a better pic of the design

So, as if I needed another reason to keep this up...

The frigging booth at Denny's was happy to punctuate the situation for me:

No I did not eat the waiter, thank you very much!

When "manning up" means you get laid up OR Rich's amazing Hospital Adventure PART 1

Late last year and into 2012 I discovered It was getting difficult to get my left leg into the car.  I had leg stiffness after doing my shifts at the coffee shop before, so I didn't think it was all that unusual.  I also had a little swelling of my left foot.  I didn't think much of it, being I knew I was gaining weight.  I kind of thought I was dehydrated, and frequently more water or Pedialyte seemed to do the trick.

Now in the last weeks of January, my left leg was getting progressively more swollen and started getting red.  My feet were hurting and it was difficult to walk sometimes.  I didn't really think much of it*, and figured It'd just go away on it's own.  You know, how things normally work when you're a guy.  Let's face it, if I could still go to work and hobble around, I probably could successfully ignore an actual monkey attacking me if he was quiet and wasn't biting all that hard. You know, a semi-gentle gnawing if you will.  Like monkeys tend to do.**

Saturday the 28th I was super tired. Like falling asleep in my chair at 5 pm and almost unable to function  tired.  That's not usual for me.  Even confronted with little sleep I can usually manage to get things done, but this day, make no mistake kids,  I was a mess.  Now, because I am the owner and operator of a penis,  I naturally just assumed I was just getting a little sick.  I had a fever.  Nothing face-melting, but still.  I was sure a good night's sleep would be all I needed to feel right as rain.

Anyway, on Sunday the 29th, I woke up feeling better.  My leg, on the other hand (on the other foot?) was not looking awesome.  Red and splotchy was the order of the day.  Now I know you're thinking "Rich, you're Irish!  Red and splotchy is in the handbook, right?" and normally I'd agree.  This time there seemed no reason for it however.

So, I got dressed and slowly made my way to the car.  I took the boy to basketball practice and talked to one of the Moms and we discussed my leg which was looking redder by the minute, but honestly felt better.  I want to say I was still coming off Bronchitis or something like that but the memory cheats and I should have written all this down ages ago.

Well, I work on Sundays down at the ol Beanery, and while I was getting dressed and talking to my wife (yes ladies, this is the super hot action going on in our house!  Seethe with jealousy!) she took at my now rather not-nice-looking leg.

"Doesn't that hurt?" she asked, concerned.

"Nope," I replied, sliding on my khakils, "It's swollen, but it's fine.***"

"Yeah, I'm gonna go call Phyllis..."  That's my wife's friend, the nurse.  Long story a little shorter, Phyllis said to take me to the ER where I would probably be given broad spectrum antibiotics and sent home.

Never has Phyllis been so wrong before!  Well, at least I don't think so, I don't know her all that well...

To Be CONTINUED...





* because I'm a damned idiot, thank you very much
** They really don't do this.  GEnerally speaking, most primates are right bastards
*** These, it turns out, have been officially, Famous Last Words for some blokes in the past.

McDonalds is perfectly healthy!

http://consumerist.com/2012/06/mcdonalds-head-chef-doesnt-see-anything-unhealthy-on-the-menu.html

Read the comments. they are a hoot, as usual.

So, anyone still following this blog (thank you both!) is probably wondering “What in the hell happened to Rich?”

Lots, let me tell you!

In January, the impetus for getting my sorry and now considerably larger self back in shape was truly forming. One fine morning I split my pants at the post office. OK, specifically I was getting into my car not like, reaching for a book of stamps or anything. Regardless, believe me when I say I completely destroyed my pants. Like split them from the belt line, all along the seam, right to the crotch.

Yes, I basically bisected a pair of pants.

Now, in my defense, they were FadedGlory jeans from WalMart, which are basically the equivalent of pants made from denim Kleenex*, but the fact remains that I basically had a pair of DIY chaps on my hands. Erm, well, you know what I’m getting at, surely…

oh, you don't? Take a gander at this:

Ladies?  How YOU doin?

Yep, that'd be a cel pic I set to the missus. You'll note the pink and tender buttock meat right there indicating another crucial element to this story. That being: I chose this day to go commando.

Now, normally this wouldn't be too bad.  I mean, who's gonna know?  Well, anyone who had eyes actually. All i had to do was put on a fresh pair but I wasn't home! Oh, no, that would be too easy. I was at the supermarket and had two other errands to run, but hey, sometimes you have to go back to go forward, you know?

So I run back home and check the area and it seems all clear. So, I exit my vehicle, start walking towards the house, and I hear it...The SCAT bus! Yeah, a bus load of senior citizens get a glimpse of my pale and splotchy bottom  You're welcome, Silver Foxes.
.

Next installment- Rich "mans up", toughs it out and ends up in the hospital!

* Could you imagine a big box where pants pop up like tissue?  That'd be awesome.