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.