First Impressions

Here's some first impressions from my weekend. Totally self-absorbed, as usual.

Eating at SNIFF:




















The amount of weight I gained over the weekend was obscene. I threw any self-control when it came to eating and drinking out the window. I had some incredible tri-tip, biscuits and gravy, pizza and donuts galore. In other words, all the foods that I regularly don't get to eat. Luckily I was able to start making up for it yesterday when I rode my bicycle from the Westside to the Hollywood Bowl parking lot for a two-hour bootcamp and then rode home again. My thighs are screaming today.

I ended up riding 26 miles to and from the Hollywood Bowl. Good lourd!

Here's my rendition of standing in the Bellagio lobby waiting to go to the Monkey Boy and Girl's wedding. I actually felt like I didn't stand out in a bad way most of the time. Most of the women there looked like tourists. That's not a good thing.














I have to admit, I liked dressing up for this occasion. Alright, the shoes were absolute murder, but I knew that would happen. I found out that it's easier to run in 4-inch stiletto heels than it is to walk or stand in them. Walking in them hobbled my speed down to "normal" walking speed. The husband loved it, and I think he would love it if I wore the damn things more often so that he can actually walk with me for once. Bother!

The other part of dressing up complete with heels that the husband liked is that I was pretty damn tall. Not quite transvestite tall, but above-the-heads-of-most-mortals tall. I would wreck the effect by talking in a really deep voice as if I was indeed a tranny. The husband told me to shut up when I did that. Ha ha!


This is what I woke up to yesterday:















Cats in my face. As time goes by, the cats are getting bolder in their interpretation of the Angriest Cat in the World's annoyances. I didn't get any sleep last night thanks to the Diabetic Fatass Cat's insistence on meowing continuously and attempting to pet my face with a cold paw. I'd sleepily place him on the floor, but he'd hop right back up and sit on my feet to purr and meow some more. Rotten furry bastard.

Photos coming soon. I hope.