Carbivore.

I need to eat more fruits and vegetables. But….I’d rather eat butter.

All day long while I am out and about doing roofing things, dealing with asshole Western Pennsylvanians, and working up an appetite, all I dream about and look forward to is the moment I get home and can sit down and binge eat. It’s what gets me through the day. At the beginning of each day, I have high hopes that today I will eat healthfully. Lots of veggies and liquids, I plan. Then the day goes on, and all I want to do is dive into a swimming pool full of macaroni and cheese and then eat my way out, because damnit, I deserve it.

By the time I finally get home at night, I tear into the kitchen in a carb-consuming rampage, shuffling around the kitchen with a Wheat Thins box clutched under my arm, up to my elbows in crackers as I boil water on the stove for my pending spaghetti. I storm the kitchen grazing aggressively, and by the time my pasta is actually done boiling, I’m nearly comatose from the carbohydrate overload I’ve forced up on myself.

.

Today I came home and boiled noodles. I ate plain old noodles with just butter on them. Carbohydrate desperation is what you call that. I have no shame.

.

.

Tropical storm “Lee” has brought on continuous rain for the rest of the week. I will be doing nothing this week in celebration. I wish to sleep, surf the ‘net, and snack myself half to death. Except tomorrow. Tomorrow I have to go buy a vacuum.

I need to befriend employees of shwaggy department stores so I can get and use their discount on various material goods. I guess I could always apply and get a job there for that reason, too. I’d work there for an hour, buy a bunch of shit, and then be like, “Peace out motherf-ckers.”  That seems like a lot of work though.

I wish to spend all of my money on denim and leather goods. I don’t think it is possible for me to get enough of these things. Won’t someone just give me six million dollars? I think that’s enough. I need a sugar daddy. I need to win the lottery. I need stuffs.

WELL, I’m going to watch fifteen episodes of Law & Order SVU. SVU really gets me through my evenings. I hope this series never ends. If they discover medicines or herbs that keep people alive forever, and there turns out to be an extremely limited amount of these elixirs, I am very okay with those rations being given to the Law & Order SVU cast so that they may stay alive and continue to make suspenseful, dramatic crime shows until the day that I die.

Ta ta.

_________________________________________________________________

B:   What do you call a black person who flies a plane?

J:   I don’t know, a terrorist?

B:   A pilot, you racist.

J:   Maybe where you’re from. This is America, and if you’re not white and you’re flying a plane, you’re probably up to no good.

Sugar daddy.

Sugar:  15 calories per tsp.

Real sugar:  15 calories per tsp.

People need to stop getting a boner over companies whose products are made of “real sugar.” It’s like all of a sudden people think drinking new Pepsi throw-backs is somehow healthy because they boast of using “real sugar.” In case you nimrods were really stupid enough not to realize this on your own, they have always used sugar. It’s just….sugar. Putting the word “real” in front of it does not magically make it “healthy” or “organic” or “better for you.” Same with the word “natural.” If you ask one of these advocates of the “real sugar” soda fans what was in their soda before, they have no idea. I’ll give you a hint: it was sugar.

Real sugar.

Oh, by the way, “high fructose corn syrup” is “sugar.”

Moving on.

I’m not sure what it is about cherries that scream “skank,” but they just do. As soon as I see a Chevy Cavalier with cherry themed seat covers, I automatically know that the driver has S’ed a lot of D’s. Cherries and sleeping around just go hand in hand. Cherry pajamas (a la Deb), cherry air fresheners, cherry themed fuzzy dice—-skanky. It’s just the way it is.

.

Jared Blake, contestant on NBC’s The Voice, is a walking definition of a poser. It’s like he found the how-to handbook on being a poser and took every step to prepare. Is there a “Nickelback for Dummies” book out there that I don’t know about? Has he not caught wind that everyone hates Nickelback? Nice bicycle chain around your neck, Jared. The other two hanging from your pants serving absolutely no purpose whatsoever are really, really cool too. Look at all the bracelets and rings he is wearing. He has on like four watches. Nobody needs four watches at once. The dude is wearing like 11 rings. He doesn’t even have that many fingers. How many bandanas is enough? Well, during his performance tonight, he had on three. One straight across his bald ass head, one tied around his wrist, and one tied to his pants. The one on the wrist really bothers me, because you know he can’t tie it on by himself. He literally has to go ask for someone to tie it on his arm for him. So lame. Don’t get behind this guy in airport security. He’s wearing more unnecessary metal than a medieval knight.

Douche.

Keep your pants on,

Rebecca.

__________________________________________________________________

“What topics can you use for small talk?”

“Ummm…golf! Stock market. Dave Matthews.”

“Yes, what else?”

“Ah, small things—peas, ball-bearings, dimes—“

The skinny on fat.

I’m tired of these online ads claiming to have the secret to the “one magic food that cuts down on belly fat!”  There is no mysterious secret. Weight loss is very, very simple. Actually, it’s elementary math. Eat less, exercise more. That’s it. If there is any food that can actually magically cut down on belly fat, it’s Indian food. You barely finish your chicken tikka masala and out it goes, via the other end.  It doesn’t even have time to stick. So yeah, I guess if there’s one magical food that cuts down on belly fat, Indian food is it.

I would really love it if clicking on one of those online ads actually directed me straight to Taj Mahal Restaurant. Haha. Then I would applaud them. While we’re on the topic (of fat-burning, not Indian food), I’d like to clear something up for people: You cannot target fat loss on your body. Doing one million crunches every day will not burn your “belly fat.” It will build ab muscle, for sure.

…Under your gut where no one can see it.

You have to lose weight overall for your gut to shrink, kids. That means cardio. Lots of it. And calorie-control. Every day. There’s no secret. Stop searching for it. Use the ELF method: eat less food. (Copyright Rebecca Switzer).

I went shopping for some denim shorts this afternoon, seeing as the temperature is rapidly rising from mild springtime weather to molten lava exploding from the crust of the earth summer weather. My shopping results were…interesting. Shorts are only two years from no longer existing. And I don’t mean they’ll be obsolete as far as fashion is considered; I mean they’re going to be phased out entirely, because year by year, they get shorter and shorter.

They’re going to disappear. It won’t be long before “shorts” are just a piece of denim with a button and some belt loops with a price tag on them. The pockets on these shorts are hanging almost entirely out the bottom of the “legs.” I’ve seen longer inseams at a midget convention.

Does Skechers really think that marketing their Shape-Ups tennis shoes as the key to a fit, svelte body is accurate? “Step into YOUR new body with Skecher Shape Ups,” they say. Is Skechers trying to claim that wearing their tennis shoes will morph you into an Eva Mendes physique? Get real. Anyone in their right mind understands that donning a magical pair of shoes will not make you drop 6 dress sizes. ELF.

I am really in love with the Kia hamster commercial. They’re so gangster. I mean, they really made those hamsters bigger than hip, hop.

Their dancing? I love their dancing. Clearly Chris Brown coached these rodents.

“You can deal wit, DIS, or you can deal wit, DAT.”

Keep calm and ELF on, boys and girls.

Your amigo,

Rebecca.

_________________________________________________________________

“Okay. That face is going to set us back in the bedroom.”

“I’m pumped! I can’t help it!”

“Yeah, I noticed that when you karate-kicked my makeup mirror.”