Fat Amy.
In honor of Fat Tuesday.
A Fat Tuesday in which I will be eating nothing fat nor delicious.
Effing tragic.
To me, this year more than ever, Fat Tuesday basically just means Lent starts tomorrow.
My sweet little lovebug sister, Kay, and I decided that this year we are going to be giving up...
::drumroll please::
Tweetsville and Instafood/shoes/selfies
That right. Forty days and forty nights of not a tweet or filtered pic.
As pathetic as this sounds, I legit think this is going to be a straight Josh Hartnett circa 2002 in the godawful 40 Days and 40 nights movie. Only I HIGHLY doubt I come out of it with a soulmate-esque boyfriend running orchids up and down my perfectly flat stomach.
I just think that shit would tickle.
In all seriousness. I love the Lenten season. Its a time of focus, sacrifice, and devotion. I always choose to DO something as well as give something up. Doing something that is not only an investment into myself, but my community and my faith life.
I just wont be able to tweet about it.
You know you're old when strobe lights give you a legitimate headache.
You know you haven't had any alcohol in almost a month when one glass of malbec has you singing "blame it on the goose, gotchya feelin' loose."
You know you're at a Lady Gaga concert when you ask your friend "is that a guy or a girl" more often than not.
Last night was the Lady Gaga concert. I barely pealed myself out of bed this morning. Staying up that late on a work night is just not cute. BUT it was well worth it. While I'm not a massive Gaga fan, the show was AH-mazing, her voice is top notch, the entertainment value was at a 10.
Lines of the night:
"When I birthed you out of my Mother Monster pussy"
This is after we saw monsters literally born out of a massive pregnant belly complete with giant spread fishnet adorned legs.
and
"Black jesus has zero fucks to give"
Whoa.
That one got a lot less cheers.
Someone was puffin' on the cheebah in our section (par for the course in concerts I assume). Like, super close to where we were sitting, but for the life of me I could not figure out who it was. This was the sly-est toker in all the lands. All I wanted was to appease my curiosity by figuring out who it was and how in the hell they were managing to pull this off in the upper deck, where most everyone was sitting down, and there was a grandmas sitting.
I wasn't even mad, I was impressed!
I didn't get great pictures, because I never bring an actual camera with me and only had my phone, which was being dumb, but this is why I will never be an awesome hipster blogger.
Me and black jesus have that in common. The whole zero effs to give part.
Mondays after the Super Bowl should be illegal.
I didn't even drink or eat anything delicious/super bowl-esque and I feel hungover and bloated. WTF?
Probably cuz I stayed up past my old lady bedtime of 9:30.
So I may have been the lame-o who brought fruit salad to a Super Bowl party, but this Eat To Live ish is worrrrking! I only weigh myself once a week (Mondays) and I am already down 10 big ones. Feeling pretty stoked about that.
This weekend I went to a Real Housewives of Minnesota party aka a Stella Dot party that started at 10AM. 0_0
Right?
I had to set my alarm.
But there were mimosas and pretty jewels so all was forgiven.
I picked myself up these bad boys
for when I'm sunkissed from laying out here all day in May
Not gonna lie to you all...I'm SO happy its February. January is always a rough month for me. Feb is more my speed. Quick and painless. With a glimmering hope that this godforsaken snow might leave and temps might climb into the double digits.
Happy Monday Lovahs and Frands. Go grab it by the balls!
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