Alright! We're in a bit of a slowdown now, with weather turning cold, wet, and dreary and my paths turning muddy and difficult to safely traverse. So, what's a guy with little space and fewer funds to do? Improvise!
Now, I should be able to swing a decent treadmill or exercise bike within the next month or two now that the last of the new surprise bills (taxes/tags on the car,) are squared away! But, until then, I managed to find a nice little dumbbell set at Walmart. It's put out by Golds Gym and comes with two bars utilizing these quick release pins that are nice and solid, but easy to adjust on the fly, 4 weights (two at 20lbs and 2 at 5lbs) for a max combined weight of 50lbs between the two hands. I've also got a mid-range resistance band for some solid cardio and core work. The dumbbells actually work great for sit-ups - propping one foot under each bar weights me down enough to sit up without lifting my feet with a little effort.
Anyway, I'm still floating about 10lbs off my goal weight but am kicking my routine into overdrive and getting back to the carb-free lifestyle. It's a bitch, I'll tell you, avoiding carbs at all cost? Bread, tortillas, sugar (refined or naturally occurring,) rolls, muffins, bagels, cereal... so much shit I never thought about before just looming over every grocery list and quick run to the store.
To get around it all... well, I eat a lot more salad now than I once did. Rolling meat and cheese up into kale or lettuce, quite tasty and surprisingly filling when you get used to eating normal fillings. Eggs. Oh...my...god...eggs. Scrambled eggs, egg omelettes, eggs over easy, quiche in a cup (no, seriously, microwaved quiche is a thing and actually very good...I'll try to post a video soon,) raw eggs - straight down the hatch - it's the shell that poses most threat, just wash it good before cracking, baked eggs (no flour, not quiche, just a sheet of eggs in a cookie sheet with whatever ingredients you want draped across,) and whatever the hell else I think of or stumble upon. Eggs are awesome, people. And no, unless you've already got cholesterol issues, you're fine - did the research, you can do yours, but for an adult male of my height and build, I can take 3 fried large eggs a day. The bad cholesterol increase is nominal and the good cholesterol increase is substantial.
Ugh, but there's so much more to all of this. Good spirits and lots of rest are absolutely vital. In order to get a good workout, you need sleep and a clear mind. Sure, a nice jog through the wood or ripping a shit-ton of reps off with the dumbbells can clear your mind and get rid of the stress, but it's so much easier to get started in your routine if you've already dusted the weight off your shoulders. Take my word, a clear mind and positive outlook can be the difference between a good workout and an absolutely amazing soul-filling, spirit-lifting, mind-blowing, I-can't-believe-I-just-muscled-through-that-many-sit-ups sort of workout. For instance, when I was a kid, I could swing 10, maybe 15 sit-ups, and I mean the lazy kind we pulled when no one was looking. More of a half-crunch than sit-up. I was skinny as hell and quite fit, at the time. My best routine, greatest mood, as of late...I was working out because I was enjoying working out and bettering myself...but it came just about a month ago when I ripped off 30 solid 'real' sit-ups. To put that in perspective, my idea of a 'real' sit-up involves lying on your back, feet braced, hands clasped behind your head as you pull your torso up and twist at the wrist to touch your left knee with your right elbow, lay back at safe and moderate speed, then come up and twist the other way, touching your right knee with your left elbow - boom, one 'real' sit-up. I did 30 of those that night. I then proceeded to collapse upon the floor, gut wrenched in pain and exhaustion, with a huge grin of pride on my face.
Alright, that's enough rambling, off to work out a bit and make myself a tasty mug-quiche. Best of luck in your own endeavors, friends.
Friday, October 20, 2017
MOVE ON!
I write this as an open letter to any tired, rancid, petty piece of shit I've ever put my dick into (that's not all of the ladies I've held relationships with, mind you, but a good portion, unfortunately.) What is it that keeps you hanging on? What is it that keeps you spreading your lies and bullshit through the community that, thanks to YOUR ACTIONS ALONE, you're still a part of? Rather than moving on, taking your tired, gossiping ass back to where you came from, where you at least have some family and, supposedly, friends - though I don't know what kind of person would keep you around on purpose - but instead of that, you stay in an area foreign to you. Instead of moving the fuck on and acting, with just an ounce of your being, like a fucking adult, you bitch and moan and spread your lies. Why is it that you're just not complete without drama?
When things were there best between us, you'd praise me (and RECENTLY, this isn't days of fucking yore I'm talking,) "How'd I wind up with such a perfect man?" you'd coo. And, within minutes, you'd passive-aggressive the fuck out of the situation and turn a perfectly pleasant, kids-are-in-school-I'm-off-today-we've-got-the-house-to-ourselves-we-should-fuck-like-we're-still-in-the-honeymoon-period sort of situation into the normal hell you make everyone in your life accustomed to. Because I yawned and you remembered you can't stand the shift I work or that I have to sleep most of the time you're awake, not that you aid in that process any.
Seriously, do you remember when you worked that in-home job you gave up that normal, albeit physically taxing, but steady and solid factory job up for? That phone job? That job that would have failed immediately if I wasn't CONSTANTLY on point, swooping in to grab your daughter and run to the other end of the house, closing every door behind me as she began to decompress, exploding into some very you-like scream-fit over fucking nothing!? Or whisper-screaming at your other kids to shut the fuck up so their voices don't trail into your call and get you in trouble!? Do you remember how fucking quickly you self-sabotaged yourself out of that job and left us with no income!? I was never opposed to being breadwinner, I've done it all my life, this was your game, YOUR request, YOUR need to get away from our children and let me be the homebody.
Our parenting styles differed...HA...you mean I parent, I discipline, and not with physical force, but with loss of rights and such. You? You just fucking tuned it out and let them run wild and wonder why they act like animals? Why they have the civility of animals? Really, it's that big of a mystery to you, why you can't get your shit together? Outside of the obvious genetic faults, you've done NOTHING to reinforce positive behavior.
Your son is so out of control and, surprise, getting worse? I'll give you a hint: It's because of you. No, your existence isn't causing his spiral, your lack of intervention, your lack of regard for rules, your lack of reinforcement of rules and consequences. He has a curfew, but nothing ever happens when he breaks it. He has academic requirements, but keeping him on task is real, actual work, so, guess who gets to run off and do anything because it's easier on people. I remember. I have the destroyed walls, a remnant of the house I invited you into, flashbacks to the psychosis, the circus, the carnival of fucking horror I let you all turn my life into because I was too ashamed to send you away with nowhere to go and nothing to show for.
It doesn't even infuriate me any more. I no longer worry for the fallout as I've come to realize that I'm not the only one that sees through your stories and your bullshit. We all see through it. It's pointless, menial. Just stop. You cry about your woes on social media, bitch to your kids who, in turn, bitch to mine. The ignorant fucks that actually still let you all stay there are no better the influence, but I'll let that be, they've given me no real to harbor ill will, so will only feel sorry for the burden they've taken on.
I'm tired of hearing about it, I truly am. Why don't you just pack your fucking shit and go back to the hole you crawled out of? It doesn't impress anyone.
It's actually nearly as amusing as it is sad because: That I called every step of your fucking process the day I left your life, the day you stopped fighting for our life together and decided to play the fucking woe-is-you-victim. My exact words were "Now she lingers, runs the rumor mill, fucks anything that moves, leeches off the nearest sad-sack she can sink her teeth into and spin a sob-story upon, and does nothing to even attempt moving on."
It's no wonder your kids act the way they do. It's no wonder mine are doing fine now that, for the most part, they've been removed from your influence and the influence of your children, other than the bit they manage as they try their damndest to keep my kids roped in.
Your life ends one way - sad, diseased, alone (and or in jail yourself), and, eventually, overdosed on whatever distraction you manage to blow yours and the whoever your living off from's money upon. You're a diseased parasite, an addict, and a gluten who needs to focus more on the therapy and less on lies and drama.
When things were there best between us, you'd praise me (and RECENTLY, this isn't days of fucking yore I'm talking,) "How'd I wind up with such a perfect man?" you'd coo. And, within minutes, you'd passive-aggressive the fuck out of the situation and turn a perfectly pleasant, kids-are-in-school-I'm-off-today-we've-got-the-house-to-ourselves-we-should-fuck-like-we're-still-in-the-honeymoon-period sort of situation into the normal hell you make everyone in your life accustomed to. Because I yawned and you remembered you can't stand the shift I work or that I have to sleep most of the time you're awake, not that you aid in that process any.
Seriously, do you remember when you worked that in-home job you gave up that normal, albeit physically taxing, but steady and solid factory job up for? That phone job? That job that would have failed immediately if I wasn't CONSTANTLY on point, swooping in to grab your daughter and run to the other end of the house, closing every door behind me as she began to decompress, exploding into some very you-like scream-fit over fucking nothing!? Or whisper-screaming at your other kids to shut the fuck up so their voices don't trail into your call and get you in trouble!? Do you remember how fucking quickly you self-sabotaged yourself out of that job and left us with no income!? I was never opposed to being breadwinner, I've done it all my life, this was your game, YOUR request, YOUR need to get away from our children and let me be the homebody.
Our parenting styles differed...HA...you mean I parent, I discipline, and not with physical force, but with loss of rights and such. You? You just fucking tuned it out and let them run wild and wonder why they act like animals? Why they have the civility of animals? Really, it's that big of a mystery to you, why you can't get your shit together? Outside of the obvious genetic faults, you've done NOTHING to reinforce positive behavior.
Your son is so out of control and, surprise, getting worse? I'll give you a hint: It's because of you. No, your existence isn't causing his spiral, your lack of intervention, your lack of regard for rules, your lack of reinforcement of rules and consequences. He has a curfew, but nothing ever happens when he breaks it. He has academic requirements, but keeping him on task is real, actual work, so, guess who gets to run off and do anything because it's easier on people. I remember. I have the destroyed walls, a remnant of the house I invited you into, flashbacks to the psychosis, the circus, the carnival of fucking horror I let you all turn my life into because I was too ashamed to send you away with nowhere to go and nothing to show for.
It doesn't even infuriate me any more. I no longer worry for the fallout as I've come to realize that I'm not the only one that sees through your stories and your bullshit. We all see through it. It's pointless, menial. Just stop. You cry about your woes on social media, bitch to your kids who, in turn, bitch to mine. The ignorant fucks that actually still let you all stay there are no better the influence, but I'll let that be, they've given me no real to harbor ill will, so will only feel sorry for the burden they've taken on.
I'm tired of hearing about it, I truly am. Why don't you just pack your fucking shit and go back to the hole you crawled out of? It doesn't impress anyone.
It's actually nearly as amusing as it is sad because: That I called every step of your fucking process the day I left your life, the day you stopped fighting for our life together and decided to play the fucking woe-is-you-victim. My exact words were "Now she lingers, runs the rumor mill, fucks anything that moves, leeches off the nearest sad-sack she can sink her teeth into and spin a sob-story upon, and does nothing to even attempt moving on."
It's no wonder your kids act the way they do. It's no wonder mine are doing fine now that, for the most part, they've been removed from your influence and the influence of your children, other than the bit they manage as they try their damndest to keep my kids roped in.
Your life ends one way - sad, diseased, alone (and or in jail yourself), and, eventually, overdosed on whatever distraction you manage to blow yours and the whoever your living off from's money upon. You're a diseased parasite, an addict, and a gluten who needs to focus more on the therapy and less on lies and drama.
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