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Disclaimer: I was in a van for a very long time alone today, and the girlfriend is at work, so I'm still alone, consequently, there is a lot of rambling on here.
I learned I can not keep snacks in the work van. I get bored on long drives, so I snack, then I get bored some more, so I snack some more. It does help if they are super spicy because then I can't eat a ton, but I just wait until my tongue cools off and...I think you see where I am going with this. Needless to say, there are no more snacks in the van. Tomorrow I will probably be sulking because there are no more snacks in the van, but I will just have to get over it you big baby! Sorry, had a moment.
I was on a website looking up measurements for plus size models, and can somebody please tell me ON WHAT PLANET or IN WHAT UNIVERSE IS A 5'11" 130 LB WOMAN PLUS SIZED???!!? I was a little mad when I read that. I want to go back in time to the 60's and shake the people who thought skinny little models were a good way to go! I don't just mean I'm want to grab their shoulders and shake them, I mean I want to pick them up with my teeth and shake them like a dog with a rabbit. Yes, I understand there are naturally tiny women, but when that becomes the standard and EVERY woman is held to that tape measure, it's shaking time! If you haven't heard Meghan Trainor's song "All About That Bass" you must. One of the lines is:
I see the magazine workin' that Photoshop
We know that shit ain't real
C'mon now, make it stop
If you got beauty, beauty, just raise 'em up
'Cause every inch of you is perfect
From the bottom to the top
At what point does someone hold the fashion industry accountable? Makes me want to SCREAM!
Which sort of leads into my next paragraph. One of my gumball machines was broken into at some point during the week. I have no idea how they did it, but I'm guessing there was a foot involved. I had to file a police report for insurance purposes, and for some reason on these police reports they always take my information, name, birthdate, eyecolor,height, weight. Not sure why but, whatever. After my last experience with the police, I just hear them like Charlie Brown's teacher. ANYWAY, the officer was questioning me and then he asked "how much do you think you weigh?". Odd. Why not just ask what I weigh? Why wouldn't he assume I know that. I'm a woman. 99.9% of the women I know can tell you their weight sooner than they can tell you the names of their kids. Ok, most women I know don't actually have kids, but you get it. The really sad part is when he asked that question, I almost replied I THINK I weigh 212 lbs., but I was good and answered 175 (could have told him ounces too, but didn't figure it was pertinent). I don't know it just struck me as an odd question, to which the honest answer was easier than the real answer.
OK, I'm ending my rambling soon I promise. Last night's dinner was onions and peppers, fried with potatoes, and pink beans. I. LOVE. PINK BEANS! I've never had them before, but I just wanted some more protien so I threw a can of them in the pot. UH, maze ING! (god why do I talk like a 13 year old girl? Oh yeah, in my mind I'm still a 13 year old girl). You must try pink beans! They are sweet and creamy, and don't have that weird bean texture. Tryyyy it! You'll like it!
That's it for now.
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