This is why I self-medicate

Tired of hearing about my exercise and diet regime yet?
Well, go find something else to read.
What do you expect from an obsessive-compulsive ADD girl anyway?
It's hard for people like me to commit, but when we do, we go all in.
Today, I started the day with a mushroom egg omelette and a trip to the gymnasty. Right now, I'm drinking a 90 calorie vanilla almond latte which tastes EXACTLY like a Tim Horton's double double.
I shit you not.
Then I'll do housework after which Scott will return home to barbecue some lovely beef tournedos I picked up at Farm Boy today. We'll have that with a tomato salad littered with bocconcini pearls and red onions and maybe we'll have a nice slaw.
That's right baby, I'm turning into Martha Fucking Stewart.
Deal!
Oops, I forgot about lunch. Can't forget about lunch!
I'm trying to decide between a sweet potato and chicken stew or a bowl of chili. Maybe a stir fry?
Why the choice?
I've been cooking all week that's why.
Not like my normal schedule which consists of getting up, checking my email, working on my hearing loss blog, then eating and having a nap all afternoon, after which Scott comes home and makes a 700 calorie dinner not counting the wine and the beer and the scotch.
The new Rose has two glasses of light wine, contemplates watching Lincoln, then decides to go to bed instead at 9 p.m. Thank God it's the fall, or it would still be light out.

Lincoln is probably a good movie, but once you eyeball Daniel Day-Lewis for ten minutes, acting like he's posing for the Lincoln Memorial (seriously, this could be Marty Short on SCTV!) that's pretty much all you need to see. Besides which, Sally Field is in it doing the same thing she does in every move, making that schizophrenic face.
I'm mad. I'm laughing. I'm damned mad. I'm hysterical. My voice goes down an octave.
She learned the method in Sybil. Apparently.
Sure, the film won a few Oscars. I get it.
I know you Americans like the film. But we're Canadian.
Our history is about as exciting as watching Tim Gunn critique fabric swatches.

Normally, we would sit out and talk, maybe play some dominoes, then watch some sketchy movie and the 11 o'clock news, then fall into bed.
Not anymore.
There doesn't seem to be any point staying up past dinner without a snoot full of hootch.
Oh well, the days are awesome.
I can't keep my mind at rest. Is the hockey-pockey what it's all about?
If a tree falls in the forest does anybody but David Suzuki care?

Also, I'm thinking about food all day. Is today a high carb or a low carb day?
Should I make the drive to the health food store for shiritaki or must I substitute cabbage?
Is there any point to tofu?
Also, I'm obsessed with exercise.
Will I do cardio or resistance training today? Do I chance taking gravity yoga given how much gravity has let me down over the years?

Then it's back to food.
What's for dinner a week from Tuesday?
Are the mushrooms at the dog park safe to eat? Is dog urine pure?

Enough of this blogging.
Time to get back to what's really important.
Housework.
No food.
No exercise.
No housework.
Is it too early to decorate for Hallowe'en?
I'm stoked.
Ready to roll.
Even the dogs are exhausted.
This is why I self-medicate.

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Rose's Cantina

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