RVHer Fulltiming With a Dog and a Dude

Tag Archives: Montreal

Perserverance Quote Goes Here

I looked for one or two but ugh, the WORST quotes ever. So sickly and trite and gross. I was going to go with a “hate” quote but decided to be a glass-half-full kind of person and be all positive and shit so I tried for an “atta girl,” “you go, girl” kind of thing but like said, “…the WORST quotes…”

So yesterday was my third day of C25K, which I keep writing as C@%K, and I’m going to keep that because that’s how I feel about it. Oops, that wasn’t so positive, was it? Whatever. I did the third day and had to walk through half of it because I don’t know who their test couch subject was but I’m pretty sure it wasn’t someone like me. I think they found an in-shape walker who was interested in running a 5K, sat him down on a couch for a few minutes, stood him up, and said, “Here. Do this.” It certainly was NOT someone starting from ground zero, couch firmly attached to ass for a couple of years. So yesterday I was 3/4 walk, 1/4 run but still, I went out and did it. Here’s the deal: I would rather get up and dance for an hour everyday than run this program for 30 minutes 3 times a week but there’s not enough room in the RV, not to mention the shaking that would be going on when the Dude is working, and no way, no goddamned way I am shaking what my momma gave me outside for the general public’s amusement. Fuck. That. So C@%K it is. For now, anyway.

I am on day five of Weight Watchers and they are incredibly difficult to figure out. You have to read labels but I don’t eat that many packaged foods. I cook and make up my own recipes so what the hell? I have to figure out the points value of each thing that goes in and then by the time I do that, shit, who’s got time to cook? I reckon I’ll just use WW recipes and let them do all the work. I’ll just look up all the vegetarian/vegan ones and say, “Good day.” (Speaking of good day, it is so much prettier when the Quebecois say “Bon jour.” But then everything they say sounds good because it’s in French. Like “putain,” pronounced “pu-teh, and means, “whore.” Not to be confused with poutine, which is hallelujah, Jesus! food, and is possibly made of angels, and fairy dust, and unicorn fur. It is actually french fries, cheese curds, and gravy. And it’s spectacular. And I can have it, if I use all my points. For the next four days.)

Part of this WW thing is making healthy choices. Big fucking deal, right? But it is because I would far rather have a couple of Thin Mints over a non-fat yogurt blueberry smoothie, especially when you think you can drink it with a straw even though you didn’t add milk or ice and it is nothing more than 1/2 cup yogurt and 1 cup blueberries thrown in a blender and then when you get that straw and get to drinking you end up sucking out all of the liquid and you notice that it got all thick all of sudden and then you look in the glass and you have this weird curdled blueberry jelly looking substance, basically blueberry cheese. AAAAUUUUGGGGGHHHH! ::urp:: Yeah, I threw it out, wasting my expensive blueberries. Yes, I know the smoothie was the better choice than the Thin Mints. I don’t have any of those anyway. So there. (BTW, what is so hard about writing “smoothie?” The last 10 times I’ve seen that word it was written “smootie.” What the fuck is a smootie?)

Now look, people can tell you all the day long that quinoa-stuffed bell peppers with black beans and low-fat cheese taste just as good as a piece of pizza made with real cheese and pepperoni but they are lying sunsabitches. They do not taste equally as good. They taste different and the quinoa one is the better choice, and it does taste good but know that you have to make the change and the choice. I will allow myself a piece of pizza sometime but doing what I’ve been doing up until last week just makes me bigger. It is a necessary evil to make the choices and the changes. And I’m not trying to sound like a Biggest Loser coach. “Oh, I love exercising! I feel so bad if I don’t run 10 miles a day. And if I eat something with fat and sugar I just feel soooo terrible and have to flog myself after purging and taking laxatives to get that evil out of me as fast as possible.” Oh, bullshit. The lady that plays Pam on True Blood, Kristin Bauer, said this: “The other day I realized as long as I’m in this business, I’m going to be hungry.” Here’s the rest of her interview.

Of course I am not an actress but that’s just the way getting and staying thin is going to be. No more eating something because I want to and because it looks good and probably tastes amazing. See, if stuff didn’t taste great, I wouldn’t eat. I’d be happy with just taking a pill and cooking for others. I know that seems obvious about stuff tasting good but a lot of people only eat because they have to, they don’t take any enjoyment from it. I don’t know what horribly un-fun, alien-ass planet these people are from but I’m told they do exist. (I think they are a species similar to the ones who can eat the same food everyday for months. I do believe they are not human. I have years of anecdotal proof in my brother. That guy cooked and ate french fries with ketchup mixed with Frank’s Red Hot sauce at every meal, every day for about six months. No shit. This is also the same guy who when he was nine had to to have “something” cut out of his leg. The doctors were never able to explain what it was or how it got there. Alien implant? Just saying.)

I have eaten something because I was hungry and didn’t like it and wished I hadn’t eaten in the first place. I would’ve rather been hungry that eat whatever it was. So I sit here, hungry because I wasted my points on the blueberry-yogurt cheese fiasco and if I want something else I have to get out there and walk/run again, and I don’t want to.

“If I had been around when Rubens was painting, I would have been revered as a fabulous model. Kate Moss? Well, she would have been the paintbrush.” -Dawn French

“The cardiologist’s diet:  If it tastes good, spit it out.”  -Author Unknown

Enough about that diet nonsense. It’s time for some funny shit. STFU, Parents is absolutely some of the funniest stuff I have ever read. It is filled with such hilarities as “Mommyjacking,” wherein a facebook update is turned around to be all about mommy. And Sanctimommy. Oh, oh, and Mama Drama! How I didn’t know about this until just now is beyond me because I love sites like this that just say what everyone wants to say. And oh holy shit but do I know women and men just exactly like this and you do too, which is why STFU, Parents is so popular, I reckon. You know roll your eyes with every post that talks about what their precious and special snowflake did, as if no child EVER, EVER in the history of EVER did that exact same thing. The tag line is, “You used to be fun. Now you have a baby.” AHAHAHAHAHAAAAAAA! Go give B some love, won’t you? She was gracious enough to allow me to mention her here.

To that end I don’t think I will post anything about C@%K or WW on fb anymore, lest someone come up with a STFU, Dieters, and every post is one of mine! But this is my blog and this is what I’m on about today, and maybe for a while so visit at your own risk.

Bonus video: P!nk- U + Ur Hand. Because she looks fucking awesome in this, and it’s a great song.

Leaving out of Montreal on Thursday to cooler climes aka the coast. This heat is bullshit. If I wanted heat I would’ve stayed in the South. Thanks for the smoked meats, poutine, and French lessons. Au revoir!


“Exercise Is Done Against One’s Wishes and

maintained only because the alternative is worse.” – George Sheehan, American physician, author, and running enthuiast.

Well, how delightful for Mr. Sheehan and his credentials. Guess which one of the three I’ll NEVER, EVER be. If you guessed physician, you’d be wrong. There is an outside chance albeit slim that could get accepted to medical school. I can assure you I’ll never be a running “enthusiast.” And you better damn well believe I air-quoted that word. With a sneer. And derision.

You must’ve figured out that I just did day two of Couch25K. The whole raison d’etre of the program is to get yo shit off the sofa and in a few weeks be running a 5K. Not going to happen. I mean, there is not a chance in hell that I will sign up for an actual race sort of thing. Don’t care. Not competitive in that way at all. The only way I could get motivated to do that is if YOU paid ME. For sure, if they handed me some ducats at the end I’d consider it but it would have to be some pretty sweet payout.

Me? I’m just proud of myself for even slapping those shoes back on and doing it again because boy howdy, am I sore. I woke up sore, and am even more sore now. And I was pretty sure I was going to pass out once I got back in the house because my face was so red. I just keep thinking: corset, dress, cute clothes, corset, dress, cute clothes, ad infinitum.

This time the Dude went with me, and when I told him we were at the half-way mark he had the same reaction I had yesterday: “WHAT?! Half-way?!” Uh huh. Not so easy is it?

Oh boy, and you know what I had for lunch? Arugula with six green olives, three black olives, and a spritz of lemon juice. (It is actually really tasty and only about two Weight Watchers’ points but that was all I could manage to lift. Apparently this whole jogging thing makes EVERY-FUCKING-THING HURT!)

I am supposed to do this C25K thing three times this week so I reckon I’ll take tomorrow off. Just walk no jog.

I’ll end with a quote I much prefer: “I don’t exercise. If God had wanted me to bend over, he would have put diamonds on the floor.” – Joan Rivers