Butterflies

I'm a bit nervous about this weekend. I'm going to be driving up to Vancouver, BC with the Toddtender for a softball tournament. We're also going to be sharing a hotel room.

The reason I am nervous is because Toddtender and I have never spent more than a few hours together. Spending an entire weekend with him might be a problem.



You know how sometimes people get tongue-tied if they are in the presence of someone really hot? There is this uncomfortable feeling that you can't be yourself. You don't know what to say. Sometimes your palms get sweaty and your mouth feels dry. Sometimes you have butterflies in your stomach.



Well, if this happens, it will make for a long, quiet, uncomfortable drive to Canada. It will be unbearable sharing a hotel room with such awkwardness and nervousness in the air.



I just hope the Toddtender can relax and be himself, even though he will be in the presence of someone as hot as I am.

Hopefully, he'll realize I'm just a normal guy who happens to be pretty.

43 Things

The other day I found a $50 gift card for Foot Locker in the pocket of a shirt I haven't worn for a few months. Now I can go buy some new shoes!

Who knows what else will turn up as I begin packing for my upcoming move? All I know is it feels great to have that mystery solved. Several times over the past few months I've gone on the rampage searching for that damn gift card!

What have you been wanting to accomplish? Do you have any goals - large or small - that you want to see to fruition?

Lately I've been adding my goals to this site called 43 Things.

Remember when I lost my Attention Deficit Disorder sticker? I set a goal for myself on 43 things to "Find Things I've Lost". Then I found my gift card.

Last week, I found my ADD sticker. It was inside my weekly planner between the pages for the week of September 25-October 1. (At least it was in a 2006 planner...)

Check that one off the list!

For some reason I was happier about finding the $3 sticker than I was about finding the $50 gift card. Which is why I've also added the goal to "Improve my financial intelligence"!

Todd & Pony Show #10

The latest episode of the Todd & Pony Show promises to get you off. We invited the gorgeous and sparkling Juju into our studio to talk about - what else - sex!

We had such a great time with her. Don't be surprised if she makes a repeat appearance or two on the show.

As usual, I got us so far off track that we actually had to stop recording and take a break to regroup. Thanks to Pony's amazing editing, you can't even tell it happened. I wish I had an editor for my everyday conversations. Life would be so much easier.

Let us know what you think of the podcast. You can comment here or at the Todd & Pony show webpage. Thanks!

My Notes from Today's Staff Meeting

E-mail managers regarding learning programs.


Kill me now.

Longest story ever.

Which rope do I pull to make the piano fall on my head?

Writing, writing, writing [Note: I wrote that so it would look like I was taking notes on whatever was being said at the time]

I wonder if xxx cuts his own hair.

Overheard in Portland

I've always been envious of New Yorkers. Especially when I read the crazy quotes in Overheard in New York. Oh, to live in a city where random insanity is par for the course.

I just discovered that we have our own version of the site here in Portland (known by some as "PDX", which is our airport code for Portland International.

I promptly sent in my favorite overheard moment of all time. (It's true - I heard it with my own ears.)

The apartment search has come to an end. I am in love with my new place. It's a block away from a very cool hotel, a great bar, and it has a newly remodeled IKEA kitchen! It's a few blocks away from the river and esplanade, and it is also exactly one mile from CC Slaughters.

Pictures will be posted soon.

Out of Step

I've been falling behind lately. When I was in marching band in high school, sometimes I would get out of step with everyone else, so I'd have to take six or seven tiny little steps in order to get back on the right foot. That's what it feels like to be Hot Toddy lately.

It's like when you are late to your Time Management workshop.

Or when you can't make it to your AA meeting because you're too hung over.

Sitting in a Weight Watcher's meeting, and your chair breaks.

I can't seem to get it together!

Deluxe Apartment in the Sky

I'm movin', but I'm not sure I'm movin' on up.

Living with Auburn Pisces has been healing and strengthening. When I moved into her home, I believed Thor would eventually be back. If he didn't move back to Portland, he said, he would at least be coming back to take me away to California. We all know how that story ended.

But I was really grateful I moved into AP's home anyway. She helped me through the darkest days, and we have enjoyed the ease of planning cocktail hour by just shouting at each other from our separate floors.

Still, I feel it is time to move on. For one thing, I really want to live closer to downtown. Maybe even take a place right in the heart of the city. That means I'll have a lot less space if I try to keep my rent about the same as it is now.

Checking out a studio and a one-bedroom today at Empire Apartments got me thinking. (Why, oh why must I analyze everything so heavily...) Looking for a place to live is causing me to evaluate my whole life. It's stressing me out.

Should I be looking in a different part of town? I mean, is there a certain lifestyle more appropriate for a man about to turn 40? Shouldn't I be looking for something more suburban? Or should I be buying a house?

I've always wanted to live in the city. I like city noise. The Empire reminded me of a place I would have loved in my twenties. I could light incense and candles and stay up all night listening to jazz as traffic noise drifted through my open window. I would drink glasses of wine and read books about Matisse or Andy Warhol.

I don't know anymore. Maybe I want a bigger place. The kind of place where a mattress on the floor would feel inappropriate. Maybe I need a place that requires a matching bedroom suite. And where will I park Sven, my big white truck, if I move downtown? I'm not ready to part with him; He's beautiful.

The Empire seemed dark. I don't need or want a dark home! The only light in that place is Drew, the extremely hot building manager with big arms and a gleaming smile.

Inner Monologue: I Love Me. I Love Me Not.

The following inner monologue occurred this morning at approximately 7 a.m. as I had my morning coffee...

(Stretching) Mmmmmmm. What a great sleep. I feel so good. Probably because I didn't drink at all yesterday. If I could try not to drink any alcohol for four weeks I could probably burn so much body fat. But I think I am doing pretty good. Maybe I could just try not to drink for four days instead of four weeks.

It feels nice to stand here outside drinking coffee wearing only boxer shorts. I feel sexy. Probably those dreams I had about blow jobs. I wonder if either of those guys would really be into getting a blow job from me even though they are both straight? I should just e-mail them today and ask if either of them want a blow job. Yeah, right. As if. Like I would ever do that. I'll have to wait and get drunk with them sometime and then I'll ask them.

These boxer shorts feel loose. I wonder if I've lost more fat. That would be awesome. I like how smooth my skin feels. I like the way my triceps feel. I wonder if I look good from the back. Like, if I had a boyfriend and we just got done having sex, I wonder if he would come out of the shower right now and see me standing here and comment on how my boxer shorts are sort of sliding down in the back and -

God I am vain. I am so vain. I suck.

I mean a healthy self-esteem is one thing, but standing around drinking coffee in your boxer shorts and thinking how sexy you feel is something else entirely. I wonder how my friends even stand me. I must make them sick. They probably roll their eyes at how vain I am.

I'm disgusting. I hate myself. This coffee is good.

Wait a minute. Two seconds ago I was feeling hot and sexy and now I'm suddenly hating myself. How do I do that? Who loves himself one minute and hates himself the next? Probably just me and Courtney Love.

Oh, and Mariah Carey. She probably does that.

This coffee is good. I wish I didn't have to go to work today. After work, we need to record the podcast. What should we talk about? Maybe we should talk about self-esteem today.

I like the way my chest feels.

God, I'm vain. It's really disgusting. This coffee is so good.

Why Do I Do It?

I used to do it for attention or because I was bored. I really wanted to meet someone special, too. I thought maybe some guy would fall in love with me. I hoped it wouldn't be a long distance thing, but I was just so lonely, I would have settled for just about anything that came along. Oh, and I did, believe me.

Sometimes I wouldn't talk to anybody at work all day, and I felt like I didn't really have that many friends to e-mail. When my relationship with CT ended, I realized he was pretty much my whole world. I hadn't cultivated any other friendships, and certainly I did not have even one gay male friend.

So I started doing it. Blogging.

First I copied other bloggers I enjoyed. I tried to be really witty like Joel Derfner. And I tried to be scathing and hilarious like Margaret Cho.

It was fun getting e-mails from people I'd never met. Oh my god, you can't believe how flirtatious some of these e-mails got. At one time I felt like I was having a long distance relationship with about three or four different guys. Then one of them sort of inched to the front of the line, won my heart, and we began speaking (and doing other stuff) on the phone. I went to visit him, and we had quite a time together.

I started examining everything about myself. My dating habits. My neediness. My romantic nature. My anxiety. My fears. My joys. Hot Toddy's Toaster Oven (do you need me to link it or can you find it okay?) became a sounding board. I stopped trying to entertain and started trying to be real.

Some bloggers (bitches) said I "jumped the shark". They started making fun of me (I see all and know all) and formed secret little clubs of Toddy Haters that weren't really all that secret. It's not their fault. I gave them all the ammunition they needed. Instead of talking about the cool new technology gadget I bought or about the musclegod stud I went to bed with, I just shared what was on my heart.

Sharing my heart wasn't a problem. Nobody minded, until I shared thoughts about other people that didn't necessarily match the image of themselves that they worked hard to reflect in blogger world. I learned what it was to be told, in so many words, to shut up. I rocked the boat, which is something I've always avoided. I didn't rock it on purpose. Honestly, I was just so damn uncomfortable sitting in the back of the boat trying not to make waves. I wanted to move up front where I could see better - where I could, maybe, figure some things out.

So many people were mad at me for rocking the boat. Maybe people have always talked about me behind my back, but at least I never knew about it. The sting comes when you find out that they are talking about you. That's what you should avoid, if you want my advice. If people are talking negatively about you behind your back, you are probably better off remaining blissfully ignorant about it. But for some reason truth always seems to bubble up to the surface in my life, whether I want it to or not.

The funny thing was that all kinds of stories were invented to explain my "crazy behavior" of being too honest. Some friends in Portland reported to others across the country that I was an alcoholic and on this incredibly self-destructive path. Others speculated that the people who left encouraging and lovely comments on my blog were people I had to pay to be my friends. (That's the only reason he has this ridiculous following - he pays people to be in his entourage!)

Eh. It was stupid and stifling, and I went ahead and just let the boat tip over. We all swam for our lives. A bunch of them huddled together and clung to the wreckage, but I decided to let the current carry me away. Being talked about and getting lots of attention wasn't all it had cracked up to be, and I decided I couldn't trust anyone if I couldn't look directly into their eyes while I talked to them.

That pretty much ruled out any friendships based solely on e-mail correspondence or drunk dials or blog comments. And I retreated into - um - well, reality, I guess. My real friends were the people I could touch and hold and feel. My real friends were people who would talk to me if they felt I was drinking too much instead of talking about me to others. My real friends asked me why I took certain actions, and they listened to my explanations without judgment.

Hot Toddy's Toaster Oven (just Google it if you're still having problems...) started getting pretty "boring, boring, everything is boring". I don't know - maybe some of my posts were still okay to others, but I knew I was writing trivial mundane words. Who cares what I write. I certainly don't.

Why didn't I quit? Maybe I would have. Maybe I was just a week or two away from quitting. Then Thor came crashing on the scene and my total disorientation required something safe to hold onto. My writing has always been my safety net. I can control it, and I can command my words to express what feels impossible to describe. Never in my life have I felt happier than when he held me and told me about all that we would share together. I never felt safer or sexier. I never felt more reckless or rough. I never felt more kinky or gluttonous.

I guess it is only fitting that, when it ended, I never felt more afraid or ugly. I never felt more timid or broken. I never felt more undesirable or dead. Still, Hot Toddy's Toaster Oven (it's right here, idiot) was mine. I would write and somehow wish that my words would heal me. If one of my readers happened to offer a piece of advice that could possibly help me to postpone finishing myself off, well, that would be convenient as well. And it happened. My heroes, my readers, rushed to my aid. (And I didn't have to pay anybody, you bitches). I couldn't dismiss what I was being told. Too many people wrote to tell me that it wasn't hopeless. Too many people assured me the pain would go away. (Wait - does that mean that it is actually possible I could have true friends I'd never met in person? COOL!) Too many people told me to keep fighting, and I had no choice but to listen.

Since April, I have lost 10% bodyfat. I don't even need to go back and look at the posts from April. I remember it well. That was when the world started coming back into focus. That's when I opened the door of my house right after it completed the cyclone spin cycle, and I saw the Technicolor world. April was when my hope came back.

Why do I do it? Why do I share this stuff with strangers? Why do I write about what is going on even when I know that it is read by my college friends, former boyfriends, and other bloggers? Why do I scribble my URL (I'm not going to tell you again - just look in the Address field above - you are getting on my last nerve) on a napkin and hand it to anybody at the bar who expresses an interest?! Am I just looking for attention? Am I still hoping to meet somebody by attempting to portray myself as this amazing catch?

When I was a young teenager, I used to write my own porn. See, I had a crush on my French Teacher, and I fantasized about having sex with him. So I'd write stories about our imaginary encounters. After I wrote the stories, I would use them to get worked up. My words created visual images in my mind that would help me to climax. After I got off, I would rip the stories into a million little pieces and flush down the toilet so nobody would discover my secrets.

That's why I do it. That's why I blog.

Huh?

Yeah, that probably doesn't make much sense. It's not a very good explanation. Needs elaboration. Please develop this idea further.

Nah. I don't feel like it. You either get it or you don't, and either way is okay with me. I guess I'm writing this for myself after all. Who knew?

Thank you to my friends at The Magic Geek for inspiring this post with your latest podcast!

Metro the Hater Jesus

Metro in Tokyo

My friend (and Juju's fiance) Metro is upsetting Bill O'Reilly.

A few months ago, Metro was hired by Everclear to appear in a music video for the song Hater Jesus.

Since he's in the news lately, I'll take this opportunity to capitalize on my friendship with Metro. Let me give you the inside scoop on this Hater Jesus character.

Metro is Evil
Truth be told, Metro really is a very evil person. When he and I auditioned for our sketch comedy group, Metro was sure I wouldn't get cast. We met for the first time in the hallway outside the audition space, and he later told me that he felt sorry for me that I wouldn't be cast in the show. "He's such a nice guy. Too bad I got the part and not him," Metro thought to himself.

Well, we both ended up getting cast. So there.

Metro is Off the Market
A few years later, I orchestrated a romantic evening for Juju and Metro in an effort to bring them together. I'm not saying I had everything to do with their upcoming marriage. But I am proud that I did play a small part in fanning the flame.

Juju asked me to be one of her attendants when they get married next year. So, I will have my first experience as a bridesman! I've been a Best Man a couple times, and have been a groomsman several times, so it will be very interesting to stand on the other side.

Metro is My Mentor
It is Metro's fault that I ever found out about World of Warcraft. He's helped me through some of the dungeons and assisted me in getting some great weapons and armor, which is accomplished by killing various beasts and monsters in the game.

Metro Speaks Japanese
Metro was the organizer for the trip to Tokyo in January, and he was an awesome tour guide.

I Slept With Metro
I only bragged about it once before, but now that he's making the news, I feel it is important to reaffirm my status as "Star Spooner".


Toddy and Metro Gaming in Tokyo

Housesitting for Pony (A Short Play)

Scene One

Todd is asleep. It is 12:30 a.m.

Noel, a timid gray cat, jumps up on the bed and stares at Todd for a moment.

Noel: Hi.

Todd does not respond

Noel: Hi. (Beat) I said hi.

Todd: (waking) Wha? Huh? Oh. Hi.

Noel: Hellooooo!

Todd: Hi.

Noel: Hi.

Todd: Hi.

Noel: Pet me, or else I will keep saying "hi".

Todd: Okay, okay. How's that?

Noel: Prrrrrrr.

Noel jumps down from the bed.

Scene Two

Todd is asleep. It is 1:30 a.m.

Noel jumps up on the bed and stares at Todd for a moment.

Noel: Hi.

Todd does not respond

Noel. Hi. (beat) I said hi.

Todd: (waking) Wha? Huh? Oh. Hi.

Noel: Hellooooo!

Todd: Hi.

Noel: Hi.

Todd: Hi.

Noel: Pet me, or else I will keep saying hi.

Todd: Ugh. C'mon, Noel. I'm so tired!

Noel: HI. HELLO!! HOWDY!!!!

Todd: Fine! There. I'm petting you!!

Noel: Prrrrrrr.

Noel jumps down from the bed.

Scene Three

Todd is in bed drinking whiskey. It is 2:30 a.m.

Noel jumps up on the bed and stares at Todd for a moment.

Todd: What. What do you want.

Noel: Hi.

Todd: Hi, Noel. Hi.

Noel: Hi.

Todd: Hi.

Noel: Hi.

Todd: Hi.

Noel: Pet me, or else I will keep saying hi.

Todd: This is the last time for tonight, Noel. I have to get up for work in a few hours.

Todd pets Noel.

Noel: Prrrrrrr.

Noel jumps down from the bed.

Scene Four

Todd is asleep clutching a pillow over his head. It is 4:30 a.m. Several prescription bottles of sleeping pills are open on the nightstand next to Todd.

Noel jumps up on the bed.

Noel: Hi.

Todd: Hmmmm.

Noel: Hello. Howdy. Hi, hi, hi, hi, hi.

Todd: Go away. I am too tired to pet you anymore.

Noel: I came in an hour ago, and you ignored me.

Todd: I was passed out. I took sleeping pills.

Noel: They seem to be wearing off.

Todd: Apparently.

Noel: Good. Now you can pet me.

Todd: Noel...

Noel: Hi. (Beat) Hi. (Beat) Hello!

Todd: I hate my life.

Todd pets Noel.

Noel: Prrrr.

Noel is about to jump off the bed and stops. She turns to Todd.

Noel: See you in an hour.

Noel jumps off bed. Todd cries into his pillow.

THE END

Easily Distracted....

Damn it. I found the perfect sticker for my truck while I was in Chicago. It perfectly summarized my problem with Attention Deficit Disorder. The sticker reads, "Easily Distracted by Shiny Objects".

I lost it. I can't find the sticker anywhere. When I got back from my trip, I took the sticker out of my suitcase to show Auburn Pisces, and I don't know where I put it.

I lost my ADD sticker.

I first discovered I had ADD when I read a book about the disorder. Then I lost the book when CT and I were staying in a hotel one weekend. On the day we were checking out of the hotel, I found the Attention Deficit Disorder book hanging on the towel rack in the bathroom.

I can't believe Pony gave me keys to his house. Especially since the last time he gave me his housekey, I lost it in New York City.

The Real World

I had a dream the other night that I was a cast member on MTV's Real World, and then a special twist was revealed. I was singled out from the other cast members and taken to a top secret location where it was revealed that I was to appear simultaneously on another popular reality show, Survivor. I was the first Real World cast member to be chosen for Survivor at the same time, so MTV decided to make that part of my story line.

The dream went on for what seemed like hours. I really had to fight to compete against the other Survivors because, as it turns out, I had joined the cast after two Survivors had already been voted out. All the other competitors had already established alliances, and I was just the "new guy from MTV's Real World".

I lasted through the first couple of tribal councils, and I started working on the other Survivors to get them to trust me and let me join their alliances. I think I had a good chance of winning, but then Pony's cat, Noel, woke me up.

Yes, I am once again sleeping in Pony's bed. Not with Pony, though. I'm just housesitting for him while he's on vacation!

For Single People Only!

Okay, I've changed my mind about the whole gay marriage thing. I have decided that I no longer believe in it. Not at all. I think it ruins everything.

See, the thing is, gay marriage is making my friends boring. They are all coupled up and talking about their gardens and talking about their pets as if they were children. Some of them are even talking about adopting children because, I assume, pet food is too expensive.

I used to spend my Friday nights running around town with The Handsome Prince. We would have entire conversations with our eyes locked on the television screens playing porn. After a while, we'd realize that we hadn't looked at each other for about 20 minutes or so. From the dryness of our eyes, we also realized we hadn't blinked. We would laugh our heads off, and we'd have adventures, which I'd write about here on Hot Toddy's Toaster Oven.

Now I call him up and hear, "No, I can't go out tonight because my boyfriend and I were out until after 8:30 last night, and the night before that my boyfriend and I missed Cooking with Paula Dean on The Food Network. Tonight I have tons of gardening to do and my boyfriend is going to help me, and then my boyfriend and I are going to make dinner. After my boyfriend and I eat it, we're going to turn in for the night because we have had way too many 10:30 bedtimes lately! It's all the gardening, I think. We want to garden, garden, garden all the time because it is summer and the sun doesn't go down till late, and we like gardening! We love gardening, my boyfriend and I!!"

"Okay, have fun," I say and try calling another friend. This one actually joins me at the bar, but I soon realize that I am providing a much needed escape from his husband. He complains, "My husband doesn't agree with me about this, and my husband also thinks something about something. Can you believe my husband feels that way? Why would my husband think something about something!? That is so unreasonable. It seems like the only time my husband and I get along is when we are gardening or shopping for patio furniture or painting the den. Did you see the color my husband and I painted the den? Did you see our new patio furniture? Did you see the flowers we planted last Sunday afternoon?!? We will have to invite you over to see all the flowers and furniture and look at the paint on the walls!!"

"Yay," I say.

One night, I swear to god, my friends planned a camping trip for couples as I sat right there at the table with them. I was the only single person at the table. "Oh, Toddy, of course we want you to come too!"

"Thanks," I say.

A few months ago, I was invited to a party with a drink menu that included "couple-themed and romance" drinks. I asked if the menu could be broadened to include an unloved loser single person drink too. Something like, oh, I don't know, a Maker's Mark straight up? The drink of heartache and loneliness! Cheers!!

A couple weeks ago I asked one half of a couple if he and I could go see a movie together. It was a very specific movie that I wanted to see with that very specific friend. (His boyfriend too, of course. I love them both!) I received a voice mail Sunday morning in which he informed me that he and his boyfriend were leaving to go see "that movie you wanted to see with us". He let me know I could meet them at the theater in 45 minutes if I wanted to join them. Clearly, the boyfriend trumps the friend when it comes to movie dates. I mean, it isn't like he would have gone to see the movie alone. Nobody calls and says, "I know you want to see this movie together. Well, I am going right this second. I can't wait a moment longer. So meet me at the theater if you still want to see it together." But, since he has a built-in movie date right there in bed with him, he doesn't have to wait around to see if I can actually meet him or not.

I think this post was supposed to be funny. Oops.

Oh, and another thing...

The friends who, a few months ago, told me that I need to enjoy being single are now partnered. They lean their heads together and whisper at the bar as I stare into space and enjoy being single. They can't go out with me because they need to spend some quality time together, so I just stay home and spend quality time with myself and "enjoy being single". I do not always want to go out as a trio. Sometimes, old friend, I still want it to be just you and me. I don't understand why it can't work that way.

It is not that I don't want these friends to be partnered, but I miss feeling like I belonged with them - that I had something in common with them. They have turned into Stepford Married People who no longer seem to get me. They once understood how much I wanted to find exactly what they all found, so it surprises me when they can't see how much it is killing me for them to talk about "marrieds only camping trips" or "couple-themed drinks". It's a big country club that I'm just not classy enough to join. Now I don't even think I want to join. Not if I have to turn into a relationship robot.

So, I am just going to schedule a huge singles blowout and only invite my single friends. I must have a single friend around here somewhere. Let me think....

Anyway, we will show them! We'll talk about our huge beds and our weed-filled yards (for those of us fortunate enough to own a home). We'll have single-themed drinks like the Eternal Masturbator or the Ride Alone on the Rollercoaster! We'll eat individual sized microwave pizzas and just be "happy to be single".

Hot Toddy's Eating Disorder

As a very flaky person, I often go through short phases or experiences, and then I get bored with it and move on. This weekend I had an eating disorder that lasted from Friday to Sunday. Then on Monday night I was cured.

It all started last week. The germination period for my full-blown eating disorder began sometime around Monday or Tuesday. I went to the gym every day, and I made a goal to eat several small meals throughout the day in an effort to lower my body fat. Things went well. I tried to eat something every two hours. A cup of yogurt at 10 a.m., a salad at noon, some pretzels and a V8 juice at 2 p.m., etc.

My metabolism was boosted and by Wednesday I already felt lighter. At the bar (like I'm giving THAT up) I alternated vodka and club soda with bottled water. I drank much less and my bar tab was amazingly manageable.

Something strange started happening to me on Friday. My food portions were so small that I was starving all day. I had plans to visit The Handsome Prince and The Math Whiz at The Vortex that night, so I ate half a baked potato and didn't even eat the skin. I was famished when I showed up to their house, but I refused the pizza they offered.

On Saturday I had an english muffin with vegetarian bacon strips for breakfast and a whole pot of coffee. I might have eaten a tomato slice or two that day. I can't remember if I had anything else until I went to Pony's house for a cookout (after the gym, of course). I ate half a grilled chicken breast without the skin. Then I literally ate a scrap of a hamburger and half a spoon of potato salad that Auburn Pisces couldn't finish.

Sunday was the day I should have checked into the clinic for eating disorders, but instead I continued to obsess about everything I put in my mouth. I had V8 juice for breakfast and drank protein shakes every couple hours. When I met up with friends that night, they ordered artichoke/spinach dip with french bread. I had five morsels of bread and dip and then stupidly drank three or four margaritas. (I never claimed to have common sense, did I?)

Monday I called in sick to work. I don't even want to talk about the way my body reacted to my Karen Carpenter weekend. My self-esteem yesterday was scraping rock bottom. I hated myself, and I had a headache that wouldn't go away even after I ate some egg whites. As I sat on the front porch with Auburn Pisces and someone else (I forget who) and moaned about my pathetic state, her motherly instincts kicked in. She made me a big steak and cauliflower with garlic bread for dinner. Then we watched my favorite movie, Living Out Loud. I sat there feeling satisfied and happy and realized I'd been acting like an idiot for several days.

Today I had a breakfast burrito (sour cream is bad, but I ate it anyway) and then worked out before lunch. Lunch was a healthy salad with grilled chicken. I bought two bananas to eat this afternoon, and I will make sure I eat dinner tonight before I go to CC's.

Actually, this may sound like I'm making fun of eating disorders, but I'm not. To be honest, I can understand how such a disorder would be hard to conquer. I'm sure the number of people who suffer from eating disorders is bigger than we think. I'm just glad that my Attention Deficit Disorder trumps any other. I get too bored to have a full-fledged disorder of any other kind. In fact, I'm bored writing about this now and need to go find something shiny to look at.