Rich's Blog de Sexy

Ok, so a couple weeks have passed since my last blog.  To be honest, I just didn't have a whole bunch of stuff to write about.  The diet's progressing steadily along, this upcoming weekend Angela and I have our wedding shower, and I just got a side job designing.  But I'll get to that a little later.  Let's start off with last weekend.

It started off with a neat little trip to Wollaston Beach. Angela and I had some freak staring at us on the highway, then only to get off of the highway, and on the sideroads where it got even wierder.  We're waiting at a red light, when we hear wild, crazy honking of a horn.  So we look back and see this car just cruising past people quickly on our right.  So I pull over a little to let her by.  She comes to a complete stop, looks in at us, and starts taking:
"Hey, did you take your driving test in Quincy too?!  I knew it!  You guys are a cute couple."
Then Angela and I blew the F out of squaresville asap.  It was a wierd way to start off the day to say the least.  

Also, during the week last week, I was coming into work, wearing my Red Sox t-shirt.  Not an odd occurance as none of my old 'work type shirts' (collared) fit me anymore, and I'm not buying a lot of clothes in the middle of my diet, that's just dumb.  So I walk in, and I notice an older lady walking past.  As I walk through the door, she says "Ohh, looks like we have a problem."  I immediately thought "Shit...my flies down."  But nope, it turns out she was wearing a Yankees tshirt, and was talking about my Sox tshirt.  She then followed it up by saying "Papelbon?  Really?"  and I quickly replied with "3rd place?  Seriously?"  She giggled, and I felt like an alpha male.  Good way to start off the day.  Of course if the Yankees should ever disappoint Sox fans again as they have in the past, she's gonna be the first one I take down on my killing rampage.

Ok, so the big news of the week.  I've been keeping in contact with some of the people I used to work with.  There's this guy Steve Papageorge who I worked with at Boulanger & Assc. (ad company) about 3 years back.  Well, he and I were chit chatting, and I mentioned how I'd like to get some spec work for some extra dough.  He says he knows "just the guy".  A gentleman named Darren Craig (www.theuprisingintl.com)  Apparently, we have the same sense of humor, and a similar design style.  So I get another IM from Steve telling me to call him.  I call Darren, and he says to send over a folder with what I've been doing.  So I do.

I come to find out this guy works with all sorts of legit bands.  Foo Fighters, Beastie Boys, AFI, Skynard, etc.  Which give me insta-wood, thinking of the possibilities.  But this time I try not to get my hopes up, as best I can.  

I come into work yesterday, and decided that I'd email Darren, because I hadn't heard from him since I sent him my file of crap.  Well, right before lunch, he sends me this email...

Rich,
Thanks for the follow-up.
i did review your work and i really like the thinking behind it. cool stuff.
would you like to take a crack at some spec tshirt designs for the band PANIC AT THE DISCO?


the only direction they have given us is a few links (below) of artist who's styles they like
so use these styles as an inspiration.


I need these by the end of the week if possible.

-Darren


I seriously almost shit.  So for the past, about 24 hours straight, I've been doing nothing but the tshirt stuff, and honestly I won't be done til I go to sleep Friday night.  

I couldn't be happier.



On the diet front, I'm officially a 42.  Official.  My pants are gigantic, my clothes are gigantic, and soon I'll have a picture of before/after in my Patriots jersey.  THAT, my friends is comedy.  So sorry about not doing a blog the past couple weeks, didn't have much to work with.  But now I do!  See you freaks next weeks.  (did that cuz it rhymes, see?  do ya?)

And honestly, I might just get a new blog.  This "monthly limit" thing is just another example of the man, trying to hold me down.

Sorry about the day's delay on my blog, Wednesday decided to be Busy Day this week.  Meh, it happens.  So onto the diet update...wait...Angela and I heard a term this week that made us realize something.  We were watching the news, and they were talking about the physical fitness benefits of some of the Wii Fitness games.  They said, that "It's great for physical therapy, senior citizens..." and then she said something that would change my world.  She said that it was good if you were "Recovering from obesity."  I'm sorry, recovering from obesity?  I didn't know that sitting on your fat ass and doing nothing was a disease.  I guess if forcing 24 bottles of Natty Ice down your throat every night, makes you an alcoholic...and alcoholism is a "disease".  Then forcing 24 whoppers down your gullet before you even get to the bucket-o-fries you got waiting for you, must be a disease too.

What the hell?  I remember a time, when crazy people were crazies, not getting an erection was called having a wet noodle, and the only cure was tears and gin, and 'recovering from obesity' was called being on a DIET!  When the hell did all these over-elaborate terms come into play?  I believe if we need to deal with these new terms, we should have a new, over-elaborate term for what news broadcasters do...we'll call it, "battling honesty".  

Next topic, are hot dogs.  

Now, not many of you know this, but I am sort of a hot dog connesieur.  See, growing up, my mother would buy 2 dinners, because making dinner for us is hard when the gas is shut off.  (I grew up in very poor conditions, none fun)  She would get us whatever TV dinner was on sale, and always...ALWAYS, Bar-S Hot Dogs.  Good ol' Bar-S dogs, 2 for $2.00 even when they weren't on sale.  So yeah, I'm assuming there isn't only premium meats in there like the package leads me to believe.  So most of my dinner memories from my childhood, are my family sitting down to watch TV, and me scuffling to the microwave for my delicious hot dog treats, throwing some cheese on it (only salvation) and quickly shuffling back over to the TV so not to miss any of Judge Wapner's amazing wit.  Truly a Brady-esque family if there ever was one.  

So recently, Angela and I were going shopping.  We're standing at the deli counter, about to pick up some cheese. (the one and only constant since early childhood)  I saw these "Pearl Country Club Hot Dogs" and thought it'd be nice to give a new type of 'dog' a try.  'Dog' is what the true hot dog vets call em.  Angela and I order 3, grab our cheeses and dogs and we were on our way.  We finish food shopping, with great deals on porterhouse steaks, which was a treat in itself, and we head home.  For dinner, we decide to have burgers and dogs, on the grill of course.  

I bit into this Pearl Country Club Hot Dog, and everything became wavy.  That's when I realized I was having a flashback.  It was to when I was sitting with my parents having dogs for dinner while we watch TV...except wait...what's this...there's no TV.  We're eating Pearl Country Club Hot Dogs, smiling, playing frisbee outside while we grill.  My dad and my mom aren't chain smoking, they're saying things like "I think I'll go back to school, to better our lives" and "I don't need this $13,000 motorcycle, let's put the money down on a house!"   We're all holding hands and smiling, I hear "I Love the Flower Girl" playing in the background.  Then I look in at the Pearl Country Club Hot Dogs on the grill, everything starts swirling around, and I come back to reality, look at Angela and she says "I'm never getting another type of hot dog again."  I looked at her and said "Dogs Angela, dogs."  

But, the diet's still going well, I'm definitely down at least 2 more pant sizes, but I'm not going to buy pants every time I drop a size, so I'll rock these 48's til I'm in the 30's again.  The 30's, holy shit.  OOH!  I tried on my Pats jersey too, remember the 6xl with the "6xl" all scribbled over by a black marker. (slick idea on my part)  Well, it's a friggin tarp on me now.  I put it on just to go outside and put the top back on the Jeep, and when I did, the sleeves were down to my knuckles, and I could wrap it almost completley around me.  

So, that's it.  Other than me laying on my back so I can feel my ribs again, there's no more hilights.  Hope you enjoyed the blog, see you in 6 days monkeys.

Ok, let me begin by apologizing to Bouff. 

Sorry cupcake.  Hopefully we can still share a bed. 

I'd elaborate, but I'd rather let the mystery intrigue the reader, and maybe I'll get a question from someone, and I can go make up a story about why I owe Bouff an apology. 

Anyway, this week, no major milestones to talk about.  My belt continually gets smaller, and with that comes...you guessed it smaller trousers.  My 48's are getting too large, and it's time to go down, possibly 2 more sizes.  Which would be f'n sweet, because seriously, I ahven't been that pant size since 11th grade.  Yeah, I was always a big boy.  When I was a child, they called me "husky".  I always hated that term.  Honestly, why compare a plump beautiful, intelligent, handsome lil boy to a multi-eye-colored dog?  There should be some more straightforward terms to describe that a boy's larger than others.  As larger men, we have "Casual Male, Big & Tall" stores.  Why for young boys, don't we have a kid equivolent of Casual Male?  What would it be called?  I believe it'd be called "Pudgykins, Fat & Hairless".  They'd sell tshirts that just allow the belly to hang out...juuuuust a lil, and have sayings on them like "Johnson Elementary School Hot Dog Contest Winner" or "I take your kids lunch money...for more lunch" or something like that.  Maybe even, "When I get your daughter pregnant, our kids gonna be fat too".  I don't know, I'm not a designer.  

So, since I don't weigh myself, and I just judge how much weight I lost by visual assesment.  I've begun getting a lil crazy with "What's shrinking/growing where."  I already told you all about the junk, so I'm not going to elaborate any longer on that...because well...it doesn't belong on here.  But I can tell you, I feel like a black man.  Just kidding, I can still get cabs and I haven't been arrested yet.   What I can tell you is that my fingers...what I've been referring to as "my lil breakfast sausages" for years, are beginning to...become more look less Jimmy Dean sausage like.  I'm pretty sure my pointer finger is longer and thinner, I wish I took a picture of my hands...maybe I will next week, before I commit myself in a mental home. 
 
But as of now, things are going good.  Steak, pork, chicken and fish, my weekly dinner plan.  Of course, the standard "chicken and lettuce" lunch, which eventually will force me to beat up one of the annoying Asian ladies whom it takes hours to decide which piece of lettuce is the good one.  I just want to scream "You buy now!!!" every time her 3 1/2 foot ass gets in front of me.   NAAATURE!!   I'm about 98% sure that Angela's over 90lbs lost now, so yeah...that's still freaking amazing.  And if Angela's lost that much, I'm going to only assume, because I'm a MAN, that I've lost at least 800 lbs, with my testosterone and shit.  (just incase you're trying to do the math, I'd be approximately -500 lbs)  Nah, you know me, I don't want to keep track of pounds, I'll just get depressed about how big I was, and all the shit I missed.  So yeah, size 44 waist, here I comes.  See you next week.

Ok, so my blog up to now has been me, me, me.  With a little of yous guys tossed in there.  Welp, this time, there is something that has happened that needs a full blog entry to write about.  So as you know, both Angela and I have been taking on this Atkins diet head on.  I chose to be more vocal about my success, whereas my counterpart/fiance/future wifey, Angela, has kept it to herself, and just like the lil train that could, she just kept on choo-choo-choosing to kick the crap out of this diet herself.  Well, while I was on vacation up in Maine...which I'll get into a little bit before the end of this entry, I received a telephone call from an excited woman.  At first I thought it was Anne Hathaway calling me again after she dropped her boyfriend and realized all along that it's been me she's been having dreams about, but she didn't realize it til she drove past one of my "flex offs" (where I pose on street corners, not for money, but to brighten peoples days up) and that's when she put 2 and 2 together, and the calls haven't stopped.  Oh, right, my fiance, sorry.  So it turns out that it's Angela.  She begins to tell me what weight she's at, and I start doing the math.  Now, I've been in a relationship for 11 years, so I know what numbers I can give out, and what numbers I can't.  Luckily, we're not at the "don't mention my age" stage yet, so I'm good there.  But I'm not givin out weight's until we're at our goal weight. 

What I CAN tell you, is precisely how much weight Angela has lost in the 3 months we've been on the Atkins diet.  Ok....you ready?  Seriously, you better be.  Angela Rose, as of 3 months, has lost, officially 88 lbs.   I shat a little when I finished doing the match, 20 minutes after she gave me the numbers.  That's the equivolent of Paris Hilton in a wet jogging suit!!  I still can't believe it.  I mean, seriously 88 lbs., that's making an appearance on Jenny Jones, or some other shitty talk show, worthy.

But honestly, I couldn't be more proud of her.  She's gone from needing chocolate every night, to scoffing at Lindt Chocolate Truffles commercia....mmmm lindt chocolate truff...sorry...sorry.  She is unphased by anything/everything chocolate and/or with carbs/sugars.  She's the one reason I didn't slip early on, on this diet.  We used to order food everynight, and then drive to go get it.   And when I say food, I mean FOOD.  Like, wayyyy too much food, multiple-meal food...yeah...that bad.  Now, we portion, and Angela plans out the meals every week.  (every Thursday to be exact)  She's Brady and I'm Moss, I just catch her passes, and I run with it, get touchdowns and the glory (my blog), then get assault charges brought up during the playoffs by some lonely dou.....wait...go too in character there.  Regardless, you get the analogy.  She sets up the play, and we execute, simply put.  

But that's Angela's story, for now.  She's showing no NO NO NO no signs of stopping, or even slowing down.  Eventually, I'm going to be telling her to eat something because she's wasting away, and that's when we'll all realize we've been transfered over to Bizarro world, and this was all a tough yet wonderful dream.  88 lbs, god damnit...I had to say it one more time.

Now, as for this past weekend.  Maine was fantastic.  I went up with Ryan, Kevin, Brian, Matt, Bouff, Mike and of course the birthday boy himself, Lil Joey Tilton.  The weather was altogether good, not beach going weather, but good.   We caught a great Radiohead cover band, playing OK Computer all the way through, plus a couple others.  The following day, we played frisbee golf, like they did in days of yore.  Back when they played with their shields and the goal was a stick with a torso on it.   This was the first, and only time, I saw a Mountain Dew machine in the middle of the woods.   I guess sometimes you just need to get EXTREME and do the Dew, no matter where you are.  That night, we went out and I danced up against Kevin so hard.  I felt like we connected...emotionally.  The reason I wrote this part was to explain what NOT to do...I'm sorry, to be more specific where NOT to eat.

MEXICAN FOOD!! 

Oh my dear lord.  If there's one smell that will make you willing to choke a newborn for a bite of it, it's Mexican food.  Especially this place.  It was as if they took every vent in the place and focused it directly on me.  For a good portion of the meal, I spent some time smelling my hand, so I wouldn't smell the food.  The way my good friend Bouff (comic book guru) put it was "It's like putting me (Bouff - Comic fanatic) in front of Stan Lee and wasn't allowed to ask him anything."  Food was my crack for a while, so that statement couldn't have been more true.  Regardless, I made it through it, and drowned myself in Vodka tonics the rest of the night to forget that I was hungry.  haha.

SO, no other news on me, just on Angela.

88 POUNDS!! 

Sorry, had to say it one more time.           

Last night was probably one of the greatest nights I've had when it comes to sports. After 22 years of hibernation, the Boston Celtics have come out and taken back the NBA Championship by DESTROOOOYING the LA Lakers. Pound on your chest now, Vuja-bitch! (thanks for that lil gem Joe) I've never been so happy to see one man win a championship, more than Kevin Garnett. If I ever have to fight Kimbo Slice, 1 on 1, I'm going to watch KG's post-finals speech before hand. Sure I'll still probably be beaten into a coma, but man will I be amped up for it. That primal scream he let loose gave my goose bumps, goose bumps. The only happiness I could assumingly compare that to is when Doogie Howser was doing lines off of the hookers ass in Harold & Kumar, Go To White Castle.

A second championship was won in Masschusetts as well last night. A local Dynasty known as the Angry Pirates won their...like...8th championship out of 4 years playing together, and our overall record during that period is 114-13. Two games last night, first was a blowout. Second game, and championship was even MORE of a blowout. I'm pretty sure the final score was like 48-12, no matter what, we're champs, yet again, and I feel like a shorter, fatter, lighter skinned, less talented, poorer, less coordinated version of Kevin Garnett.

TOP OF THE WOOOORLD!!

My favorite picture, don't know why, it just is:



As for my diet, it continually progresses into a full workout routine. From just walking, to speed walking...now I'm to the point where I jog approximately half the distance I'm walking. So, .8 miles jogging, .8 miles walking. (50 walking steps, 50 jogging steps) It's a slow progress, but it's progress none the less.

Angela and I discovered one of the greatest combinations of meat/cheese ever this week. Write this down, because Atkins or no Atkins, this is de-F'N-licious. Steak tips with pepper jack cheese melted on it, that's all you need. Angela has gone down about 3 full pant sizes, and got this cute Garnett T-Shirt a few weeks back. She fills it out, but in the good way. I'd post pictures of her, but really, this blog's all about me. (just kidding, if I didn't lose our camera, we'd have 50 new pictures of her. I just suck)

The flag football season's over, but the great thing that I took from this season is my improvement in the energy/speed/quickness department. When this football season started, I was slow, no energy, couldn't get off the line quick, and getting back to the huddle after was a slow walk. Last night, it was jog to the line, sprint off the line, get to the spot, play over, jog back to the huddle. And my god, it felt great.

This weekend I have a Maine getaway with the boys. I'm sure it'll involve a whole bunch of trying not to look each other in the eye when we're showering together. But hey, it wouldn't be vacation without some of that. Just kidding, I'm sharing a room with Bouff, being the two notorious snorers, I'm certain I'll be fending off spooning offers all weekend. Until I'm loaded, then I just need to be comforted. Hahaa.

Ok, well, no pictures this week, but I can say my 48's are getting loose...so who knows what's next. I guess I do, it's 46, but you know what I'm saying jackasses.

Ok, ok.  So this past week was full of lil victories for lil ol' me.  I'm officially back down to Rich Hutchings circa 2001, so that's a plus.  The official measurement differences are:

Pants:
Before: 56 waist
Now: 48 waist

Shirts:
Before: 5-6xl
Now: 3xl

So yeah, who needs scales?  Not me.  Scales are for cheaters, and people who require accuracy, and actual figures to chart their progression.  Nah, fuck that.  I'm all about the visual.  You tell me a chicks hot, show me the hot chick.  You tell me that I'm losing weight, show me a skinnier guy...and without further ado....

Before: (1/6/08 as you can see, the child is terrified, and rightfully so I'm a fucking manatee.)



Now: (6/10/08 nobody for miles...why?...too f'n sexy)


So not only am I so skinny that I changed the overall perspective of the photo taken from landscape to portrait, but I've become the worlds 2nd biggest jockey, next to Shaq.   Although, I don't care whatcha gotta say about it, that shirt is pimptacular. 

Well, this was about the pictures, not so much the talking.  See you fuckers next week.

But damn do I feel good. I played flag football last night, and wouldn't you know it, on the night of Game 1 of the NBA Finals, both teams show up for their games. 2 teams can forfeit on a night where nothing's going on, but during the Finals...they gotta show up. Anyway, there were only 5 people from my team that showed, but we got a 6th when this kid Zack (seemed to be a friendly stoner type) got drafted to our team for the day. So, that meant, we'd have to play 2 straight games with 1 sub, which was fine with me.

So I start playing, and I'm not feeling that normal "I gotta take a minute here...gotta..breath" feeling anymore. I was running at a reasonable pace. I'm not going to lie and say I was the fastest guy out there, because that's insane. But I ran my routes (for the most part) and got to where I was supposed to go on nearly every play. I even played defense, as a rusher, and tipped a pass. Now, it certainly is a small feat, but at the beginning of the season, I'd be lucky to make it within 4 feet of the qb. (You have to start 7 yards off, and the qb is in a 5 yard shotgun, so you got some ground to make up) But yeah, I tipped it...sure it ended up being a touchdown, but it was a personal achievement.

I scored the first touchdown of the games, setting the pace for win. I went on to grab a bunch more catches, and play about 3/4 of each game, and grabbed a couple more touchdowns. There were a couple passes in the 'dark corner' of the field that Marc had lobbed to me, but I just couldn't see the ball well enough to adjust in time. Ah well, can't win em all. No matter what, this is the most progress I've FELT since I've started this diet/quitting smoking, and I'm f'n psyched.

Oh, and we won both games. First one we won, (approximately) 42-20 and the second we won by slaughter rule, like 48-6.

And the Celtics won, and Paul Pierce made me feel like I was watching Rocky 1 when he came back out of that tunnel. I almost punched Angela in the stomach I was so excited, but instead we settled for high fives. And that KG double handed follow up DUNK off of Rondo's missed 3 gave me my first basketball boner since the mid 80's.

First off, I'd like to start off by saying to a friend of mine...


HAHAHAHA, RYAN HART, YOU DON'T KNOW NOTHIN 'BOUT BASKETBALL!  YOU...DON'T...KNOW...NOTHIN!!

That's right, Mr. I'm Know So Much About Basketball, prediting that if the Celtics couldn't beat the Cavs on the road they wouldn't beat the Pistons.  Well guess what Mr. I'm On A Cross Country Trip and Probably Aren't Reading This Anyway, you were wrong, and now, the Celtics of Boston, will reignite the burning flame that is the Celtics-v-Lakes rivalry.  No spygate, no haters, just a good sports series in Boston that we can all enjoy with none of that extra added...what's the word I'm lookin for....Bruhaha.

As for the diet, it's looking as if I may need to go buy, yet another smaller pair of trousers and a shirt.  This diet and "walking" that people told me about seems to be for real.  Still same old meals, steak and fish, steak and chicken, steak and burger, steak and...steak, etc.  (So yeah, I'm a carnivore.)  Although, I can say that I've subdued the Irish side of my eating/drinking habits much easier than I initially thought I would.  My Irish side is the side of my eating habits that got me to where I was.  Beer, potatoes, beer, bread, meat, beer, potatoes...you get the picture.  But yep, gone.

In other big diet news, (and the people who are riding with me up to Maine will appreciate this) I had to adjust my drivers seat in the Jeep....FORWARD!!!  Also, last night, Angela picked me up a set of dumbells.  Nothing too large, I don't want to try out for the Worlds Strongest Man Competition just yet.  But a couple of 25 lbs dumbells, that I can start toning up with.  Because when you're this pretty, really, all you need is a little toning.

So yeah, the diet's going as usual, hot and heavy, like a fat guy going up the stairs.  Soon, the walking becomes speed walking, as the Russian lady "Lana," that I walk with "Speeda wolking".  I am about 85% done convincing her to run the last 1/4 of the walk, I figure a nice cool day, and she'll realize it's not a long jog at all, then it'll all work for me during the 94 degree days of summer.  Of course there'll be some hateful blogs I'm sure, but, for the most part, the result will be worth it.  

**Here's something I just thought of, that could blow your mind...Imagine if I get a six pack.**

Allllrighty then, it's been two solid months, and after seeing and hearing my friends reaction when I went to Brians for 'standing room only' Celtics night, I think I'm on the right path.  Brian, (my shorter but significantly more creative and talented friend) is convinced that if I keep at this diet the way I'm going, I'll be "unrecognizable" by my wedding.  I hope not.  Seriously, if I show up at my wedding and nobody know's I'm the groom, I'm going to be very confused and frustrated that I'd have to show everyone my 5th nipple just to prove it's me.  

So I show up to Brians apartment, and it's like Temptation Island for dieting fatties.  Pizza, beer, potato salad, chips...to be honest, it didn't really effect me all too much.  Sure, sure, I played it off as if I wasn't looking at that table of food like a buxom Swedish massuer who just informed me that the happy ending will be free of charge.  But I wanted that happy ending...I wanted that happy ending in my stomach.  No, wait...that didn't sound right.  Ok, well, it made me wish I ate something before I went over to Brians, but I kept drinking water so I wouldn't think about the fatty maker feast on the table in front of me.  "You're just thirsty, you're just thirsty" hahahaa. 

Besides that, I haven't really be tempted to cross over that line again.  I've kept with my "chicken/lettuce and whatever else isn't full of carbs/sugars" lunch.  But it's become a bit easier.  If there's nothing that I can have at any of the cooking stations, I can make a plate of lettuce, and the chef there will grill me up some chicken, and sometimes bacon.  It's like having my own mediocre meal chef.  Matter of fact, maybe I'll start my own show on the food network, called "Mediocre Chef" and I'll go from office to office, cooking meals that aren't that great.  Like chicken with a basil leaf dropped on it after it's cooked in no spices, and just a touch overdone.  It'll be good enough where people won't complain, but not quite good enough for any type of positive feedback.  "Up next, fried hamburger on a plate."  I can hear the money machine starting up right now.

I've decided not to ever ask for questions again, and just be content with the fact that people take time out of their days to read my nonsensical ramblings about trying not to be a fat mess.  Speaking of fat mess, I believe I may have dropped down a couple categories in the "fatty meter".  Everyone knows what the fatty meter is.

Chubby
Husky
Fat
Real Fat
Holy crap
Skin meshed with the couch that you haven't left in 8 years.

I've gone from "Holy crap" to somewhere between "Fat" and "Real fat"  BUT not getting those, "How does he NOT smell like shit" looks is quite refreshing.  By the time my wedding comes around, with any luck, and if I keep at it, I'll be right back at my high school size...."Husky". 

So, with 2 months down, and a little less than 4 to go, I feel I'm making progress.  Yesterday was about 80 degrees with high humidity, so it was a good guage of how hot the summer's going to be.  Now I understand that it's going to be much hotter at times, but it was helpful.  I now realize I need more 'airy' shorts, and a sleeveless 'tough guy' shirt if I'm going to last during the hot days.   Also, if I'm at where I'd like to be at, come September, I will be playing semi-pro football.  No excuses, if I can quit cigarettes, and drop hundreds of pounds, I can join some raggedy football team and stick to it.  So ya, that's it, come September this new husband will be reborn in the glow of semi-professional American Football.  See you in a week.

"You lost a midget"
-Marc Lehane

It's probably true.  Those damn lil guys must weigh, what...like 20 lbs each?

Wait...let me google that...

Ok, so f googling it, I'm going to assume that they weigh about 60 lbs each.   Give or take the meaty lil fingers and toes weigh more than they look.  Well, I'm smoothly coasting along the diet wave with the accuracy and determination of a drug free professional surfer.  Cuz the druggies don't have that motivation, they just like surfin.  I dont' just like being on a diet, I want to beat this diet until it's my filthy little bitch.  And I am.  I've lived on a "chicken and lettuce" lunches, ever since I found out that feta had sugar in it.  I can't F with sugar, messes up the ketosis.  (Stops burning fat, and starts focusing on burning the sugar) 

So I went to Our House again this past weekend (Friday) for game 6 of the Celtics/Cavs series.  This was the location where I had my first Jack/Water (the Artie Lang special).  So I felt it necessary to stick to my newfound go to.  About 5 rounds in, I realized...no, my friends, who just witnessed me drink these Jack/Waters like they were the cure for Aids and I was Magic Johnson, realized that I may need something with a bit more substance.  So we call the waitress over and I have a small discussion trying to find out which was the best for my Atkins diet.  It turns out Gin & Tonic was a solid choice.  So I went with that for the rest of the night.  Turned out to be a good choice because I ended up sleeping with 5 girls that night.  Angela was at her Moms so I knew my bed wasn't being used...but it would be!! 

So I'm in bed with two Brazilian chicks and a Chinese lady.  She was a lady because she only enjoyed the missionary position. 

So I kicked that chick OUT!!  LATER!!  Time for me to get my doggy style on!! 

**Dream sequence end**

Whatever, it could have happened.  Anyway, after that I went over to Brians house because his apartment contained better mariju...wee...televisions than what Ryan was offering me.   What a great way to end off the night a few hi....tv shows, and a smile.  Of course the most difficult part of the evening, was watching my friends enjoy those delicious burgers with their crosscut french fries, and their carbs and grease.  Stupid skinny, healthy jerks. 

The Celtics may have lost that specific game, but they won the series.  My friend Ryan said that night (and yes, I'm going to quote him) "If the Celtics lose this game...they will NOT beat Detroit."  I think he said that because he's going to be on the road for that series, so it's more of wishful thinking then a premonition.

Anyway, that's my lil update on my major weight loss.  I think I'll post a picture sometime soon, I rocked my Cobra shirt to work today.  (the one Bouff got me for mah burfdae)  And it fits perfectly.  2 full shirt sizes different than when I started.  Oh, and those pants I bought, that were a lil smaller than my originals...are already getting a bit large in the waist area.  So who knows, you may get the "I can shop at normal people stores" post sooner rather than later.  And one more thing before I talk about the awesome haikus...someone was 'nice' enough to ask me a question like I requested.  Here's the question, and my response:

What's does it mean to be happy?
-anonymous

Dear Anonymous,

You owe me an apology for such horrendous english.  Unless you're one of the Brazilian bikini models I had intercourse with last Friday when Angela was at her mothers, you have no excuse.  :P  To be happy, anonymous, means you have what you need, and can obtain what you want.  Or it means you just found out that tumor is benine, and that blotch on your skin is just a rash.  Either way, happiness is what you make it. 

Sincerely,
Rich

On a side note, Steve asked that I post the Jon Lester Haiku's that my friends (aka my blog readers) and I shared this morning in the wake of Jon Lesters no-hitter.  (Jon Lester = Next Chuck Norris)

S. Graham:
Let's give Lester AIDS
So he'll find the cure and then
pitch a perfect game

J. Tilton:

R. Hutchings: