The ever-elusive and mysterious 210 showed itself on the scale today. If I can keep up an under-2000-calorie-a-day plan, I might even spot the even rarer 209 soon. That is, assuming that the smell of people cooking at work doesn't drive me to grab a fire extinguisher and break open the snack machine, since the vending machine fucker took away the sandwich machine [may his misshapen balls grow infected and drop off]. I already feel like I'm working in hell without having be hungry and smell food all damn night; my idea of compromise will be trying to find a kind of Glade that everybody likes, because there's no way I'm gonna put up with a constant food smell in my work area. Unless, of course, they want to all come to the doctor with me and explain why I'm having such a hard time losing.
And the next person that mentions "willpower" to me is going to see precisely what happens when I reroute willpower away from the not-screaming, not-blowing-my-top and not-quitting-my-job departments [which are already seriously undersupplied] and into the not-eating department. Because that's what I'm using the bulk of my willpower for now: making myself go to that dogdick job, not walking out until it's time to go home, and keeping the words "I quit" inside my mouth where they belong until I find something else, which I haven't yet. Oh yeah, and not breaking the radio. And watching people who need to lose weight much worse than I do eat things like pizza. Of course, some of those people in that category smoke, too, so if they're on the slow-suicide track, the pizza's just the right thing.
A couple caveats to that: For one thing, it's not that I don't think people should ever eat pizza or anything else unhealthy. Like they say, you only go round once [or at least once at a time], and I think it's proper to want to enjoy what there is to enjoy. But--and I don't suppose I can speak for anybody else, just me--however many times I go round, I don't wanna go huffing and puffing, waddling, wearing a tent and feeling like a beluga whale when I roll over in bed, not if I can help it. Why would I, if I can be moderate and still enjoy some of the things I enjoy, savouring them all the more because I'm not binging on them?
It's just...if you say you're using willpower, but you're not actually losing any weight, the doctor, and everybody else, is not gonna give a shit what you claim. They'll just assume you're not trying because they're not seeing any results. Why care what they think? Kind of a dumb question, really: You have to be around these people. If they think you're lazy, they won't respect you. If they don't respect you, you can't work effectively with them. Unless you're a fucking lighthouse keeper, you sort of have to worry a little bit about what people think. They're not gonna care that it takes nearly all the will you have to stay in a maintenance calorie range instead of stuffing your face with everything in sight. You can tell them that you KNOW you're using willpower, because if you weren't, your weekly grocery bill would be half again what it is; they don't give a fuck. People have a set of notions in their mind about weight loss and pretty much everything else, and if what they see of you doesn't match what they expect to see, they blame you. You're lazy, or you're lying about what you eat, or something.
I hope people can get used to me being an even bigger and more obnoxious cunt than I am now. Willpower is, in essence, resistance. Resistance creates stress. Everybody knows this. Yet somehow, somebody who's already taking multiple drugs for the effects of stress is supposed to put up resistance to yet another thing, without ever taking it out on anybody [because that's a sin or something] or letting it affect one's work or letting it show in any way--which in itself creates stress, because you're creating one more thing to resist: the need to let the stress out.
Isn't Minnesota Nice just fucktastic? And people wonder where the suicide rate around here comes from. Here's a recipe for ya. Take umpteen million people. Apply several mutually exclusive sets of rules for socialisation, and punish liberally for deviating from any of them. Stew at 10°F for 40+ years or until bitter.
***
In other news, I just found out that the deal to sell the building to the "Let's Open A Mexican Restaurant In A Town Where The Existing Eateries Fight Like Gulls Over A Few Hundred Customers" people--it fell through. The deal, that is. And if the floor weren't hardwood, the people would have probably fallen through either. Turns out, when the pipes froze in December, not only did the ones under ME freeze, so did the ones in the basement. The prospective owners came to take a look, found the basement and restaurant a mess, and said "nooooo way."
Of course, the landlords couldn't tell me this. I heard it from a lady at work.
If you're thinking of buying a business with apartments over it and leasing them out, do the renters of the world a huge favour. Try to actually learn something about being a landlord. Wouldja? Because if all you focus on is your business, and ignore the tenants, you're gonna find yourself without rent income, scratching your head wondering why nobody sticks around. Listen to what they want and accommodate it without complaints whenever possible. They're not part of your downstairs business, and they don't go away when the shop closes at night. And if you go, "well, that's how it is, they can like it or go somewhere else," then they probably will, eventually and you will end up in the aforementioned head-scratching situation. This will be especially true once a few years have gone by and people get word of what kind of landlord you are.
But for now, all will be relatively quiet. Except, of course, for landlord-type people tromping up and down the basement stairs [which are right under my stairs and make a hellacious noise].
***
I realise I'm about 3 weeks behind on Weird Ones, and there's a new Witches Weekly up. I think that's gonna wait til tomorrow or Saturday. It's been a 36-hour week already, and I got another 10 to go.
same bitch time, same bitch channel...
Random strange news story for the day: This guy has the right idea.
Posted by Frida Peeple at February 10, 2005 10:31 AM