Wednesday, September 28, 2005
Priorities
I had a date for lunch today. She called me when she got out of class, and I was supposed to go pick her up so that we could go out to eat. She just had bad timing, really, because I was in the middle of a head-to-head match on Halo 2. I mean, I couldn't just leave in the middle of a match. Who does that? So I made her walk over to my apartment.
Doctor visit
I now weigh 203.5 lbs., on the doctor's official scale. It just keeps going up.
I asked the doctor about how I've been sleeping a lot lately (14 hours is weird for me). I was hoping that I had mono, but he checked me out and thought it was more likely that I had either leukemia or depression. That's lame. I don't think either of those pay very well.
I asked the doctor about how I've been sleeping a lot lately (14 hours is weird for me). I was hoping that I had mono, but he checked me out and thought it was more likely that I had either leukemia or depression. That's lame. I don't think either of those pay very well.
Sunday, September 25, 2005
Nocturnal
It's 10:15pm, and I just woke up an hour ago.
I couldn't sleep last night, so I ended up staying up all night playing X-men. Then when I got home from church I fell asleep. I slept all day.
I don't know how to recover from this. What if my sleep schedule is now permanently up-side down?
I couldn't sleep last night, so I ended up staying up all night playing X-men. Then when I got home from church I fell asleep. I slept all day.
I don't know how to recover from this. What if my sleep schedule is now permanently up-side down?
Thursday, September 22, 2005
Be vs. Earl
Late last night Gabe, Tyler and I went to Beto's. I thought I'd step it up.
I first ordered the cheese quesadilla. The guy taking my order looked confused at me, and said "Are you sure? It's just cheese?" If you have ordered the quesadilla before, then you'll understand why he'd try to talk me out of it. The quesadilla is just a giant wad of cheese in a tortilla. It's more grease than food. Which is, of course, why I wanted it.
Then I ordered two burritos: I tried the Ranchero, and I ordered my favorite, the Adobada. The guy asked me if we wanted to pay together or separate, and I told him together so that I wouldn't have to explain that all three meals were for me.
Tyler ordered the chimichanga, which gave Gabe an idea: What if we had them deep fat fry one of the regular burritos? The worker obliged as though it were a natural suggestion (which maybe it is in mexican countries), and so I had a giant Ranchero chimichanga.
I ate the quesadilla in 1 minute and 27 seconds. About 3/4 of the way through the Ranchero chimichanga I got full. I, of course, ate it anyway. The Adobada would become my nemesis, and we named him Earl.
The very first bite of Earl almost killed me. I was already full, and I couldn't eat any more. I ate another bite anyway. I thought I was going to hurl. I ate another bite. The bite size didn't get smaller, but the time it took me to get it down got longer with each successive bite. Sometimes my stomach would tell me to stop, and it would threaten to send back up what I'd already put down. I'd have to stop in the middle of the current bite and breath really slow and calm, and then I'd keep chewing once I'd lulled my stomach into a false sense of security. I tried to stop eating over and over, but Tyler kept encouraging me to finish what I'd started, and I listened. By the end I don't think I was even swallowing anymore. I'd just chew the bites until they were liquefied enough to slide down my throat without any effort. I had probably an inch and a half of burrito left at the bottom when my stomach refused to take any more and I had to spit the last bite out to keep myself from vomiting.
The Adobada had once been my favorite. Beto's was my favorite place to go eat. Now I was in horrible pain, both from my stomach being stretched beyond its capacity, and my throat was burning from the spices sitting in my mouth and trickling down.
It still hurts today, but I guess everything paid off. Today I weigh 202.2 lbs., even on the most conservative of the scales that I've weighed myself on. And it's a good thing I made my goal, because I don't know if I'll ever be able to eat again.
I first ordered the cheese quesadilla. The guy taking my order looked confused at me, and said "Are you sure? It's just cheese?" If you have ordered the quesadilla before, then you'll understand why he'd try to talk me out of it. The quesadilla is just a giant wad of cheese in a tortilla. It's more grease than food. Which is, of course, why I wanted it.
Then I ordered two burritos: I tried the Ranchero, and I ordered my favorite, the Adobada. The guy asked me if we wanted to pay together or separate, and I told him together so that I wouldn't have to explain that all three meals were for me.
Tyler ordered the chimichanga, which gave Gabe an idea: What if we had them deep fat fry one of the regular burritos? The worker obliged as though it were a natural suggestion (which maybe it is in mexican countries), and so I had a giant Ranchero chimichanga.
I ate the quesadilla in 1 minute and 27 seconds. About 3/4 of the way through the Ranchero chimichanga I got full. I, of course, ate it anyway. The Adobada would become my nemesis, and we named him Earl.
The very first bite of Earl almost killed me. I was already full, and I couldn't eat any more. I ate another bite anyway. I thought I was going to hurl. I ate another bite. The bite size didn't get smaller, but the time it took me to get it down got longer with each successive bite. Sometimes my stomach would tell me to stop, and it would threaten to send back up what I'd already put down. I'd have to stop in the middle of the current bite and breath really slow and calm, and then I'd keep chewing once I'd lulled my stomach into a false sense of security. I tried to stop eating over and over, but Tyler kept encouraging me to finish what I'd started, and I listened. By the end I don't think I was even swallowing anymore. I'd just chew the bites until they were liquefied enough to slide down my throat without any effort. I had probably an inch and a half of burrito left at the bottom when my stomach refused to take any more and I had to spit the last bite out to keep myself from vomiting.
The Adobada had once been my favorite. Beto's was my favorite place to go eat. Now I was in horrible pain, both from my stomach being stretched beyond its capacity, and my throat was burning from the spices sitting in my mouth and trickling down.
It still hurts today, but I guess everything paid off. Today I weigh 202.2 lbs., even on the most conservative of the scales that I've weighed myself on. And it's a good thing I made my goal, because I don't know if I'll ever be able to eat again.
Wednesday, September 21, 2005
Fondu You
So you're into a certain girl, and you try to spend time with her to ascertain whether or not that interest is mutual so that you can take further action. One day it seems like she is totally into you, and she's flirty and happy to see you and sad when you leave and can't wait to see you again. You think that things are good. Then the very next day she acts like she couldn't care less if you were even friends or not. Every guy that's ever liked a girl knows what I'm talking about, and I think we've all experienced the ITB-reversal. Why does she do this?
So I've been described as being a "fondu pot" by a few girls that I know, as a metaphor for how I'm different every time they interact with me, and that they never know what they're going to get. I've known a lot of girls who have told me that they just "don't get me" or that they don't know "what to make of me." I had thought that with such a consistent review, they must be right. Recently, however, I've realized that never has a guy told me that he didn't know what to make of me, or that he didn't get me, or that "sometimes I think me and Bryant are friends, and other times I think he doesn't like me at all."
My conclusion: I am not a fondu pot at all. It's girls. They're the ones that are inconsistent and unpredictable, and they've seen me through their inconsistent eyes and been unable to understand, not because I'm always changing, but because they are. It's not me, it's you.
So I've been described as being a "fondu pot" by a few girls that I know, as a metaphor for how I'm different every time they interact with me, and that they never know what they're going to get. I've known a lot of girls who have told me that they just "don't get me" or that they don't know "what to make of me." I had thought that with such a consistent review, they must be right. Recently, however, I've realized that never has a guy told me that he didn't know what to make of me, or that he didn't get me, or that "sometimes I think me and Bryant are friends, and other times I think he doesn't like me at all."
My conclusion: I am not a fondu pot at all. It's girls. They're the ones that are inconsistent and unpredictable, and they've seen me through their inconsistent eyes and been unable to understand, not because I'm always changing, but because they are. It's not me, it's you.
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