Allow me to make a quick plug for maintaining a moblog. By having a record of what you did and where you were, moblogs allow you to quickly and accurately answer the question "What was I doing last ____?" A simple search in the archives for the month or city tag reveals all. This is where Facebook's Timeline is taking us but it's not doing it very well. Moblog, moblog! Okay, I'm off the soapbox.
Originally I was going to come up to watch the Celtics in the Finals with George. Clearly that plan was torpedoed. Or Bosh-ed I guess. Still, I had a ticket and a window of time to get out of San Diego. So here I am, no return date and nothing pressing at home except that there's nobody to pick up the mail and take out the trash. And to make a big mess. Likely I'll have to go handle that in two or three weeks, and then I should prepare for my summer-ish East Coast swing if that's actually going to happen.
I've been waiting for summer and now that it's right here, I need to get moving.
In the first three days here I did more than I do in a month back home. Going from zero to sixty was exhausting but semi-exhilirating. Going out to dance and hear music two nights in a row? With more than one friend person accompanying me? Amazing! Having more than one thing to do every day? Geez that seems awfully busy, could we slow down? I think it's taking me awhile to get out of hibernation. I want to see everybody, and also I want to see nobody. If that makes sense.
Somehow I forgot how cold it was and brought mostly shorts. AMR loves to quote Mark Twain's "The coldest winter I ever saw was the summer I spent in San Francisco." Apparently it's false. I mean, if you believe Snopes. The sentiment is exactly true though.
Oh yeah, we went to the Magic Castle recently, which I had to recap elsewhere. Basically it was fantastic and I'm ready to go again. I'm going to have to reteach George all of our old magic tricks. Although I suspect she remembers them all and is just taking our act super meta.
While I'm here, George and AMR have got me on this iPhone app called My Fitness Pal. It's basically for counting calories and recording what you eat. They've been doing it for awhile and I'm trying it out to serve as a control. I can't really gain or lose weight so I'm just gonna do what I regularly do and see what the stats look like.
The app has allotted me 1990 calories per day. Already I'm learning some shocking things. For example, eating three Chips Ahoy is 160 calories. Three cookies is barely a warm up session. I can house half a pack easy. My favorite donuts are 300+ calories each. All these sweets I favor really jack up the calorie count. Fruits and vegetables, on the other hand, are nature's candy and have a fraction of the calories. They also cost more but that's another conversation.
Another thing, alcohol is like imbibing straight pounds. Beer is a four way disaster. It not only creates empty calories, it also increases your chance of being inappropriate, getting a DUI, and makes you sleepy. It's a wonder anyone drinks. Oh right, it's fun. Or so I'm told.
I now understand the fuss over "lite" beers.
Since I don't exercise -- I barely move really -- and I generally eat one meal a day, I can eat whatever I want. According to George this is genetically unfair but since I voluntarily smoke I figure I'm really balancing things. I asked her if she would swap our metabolisms if she also had to take my shitty teeth and countless trips to the dentist. She said she'd have to think about it.
Somehow George and AMR are surviving on incredibly low calorie counts. For example, if you want to lose a pound a week, the app suggests cutting your calorie intake by like 25% -- calories burned while exercising is calculated into additional room for food though. Still, I've been following the stuff that George is eating and I'm convinced she's starving herself. I've been trying to tell her that she definitely needs to eat more ("I'm going to tell Mom!") and that she so has body dysmorphia. She countered that I have life dysmorphia. Touché.
On the list of conversations that bore me quickly, exercising and people's diets were high on the list but now that numbers and tracking has entered the equation, I'm semi-in. Let us talk about the evils of processed food and study nutrition labels while gorging on ice cream and eclairs. My treat.
Somehow George and AMR are surviving on incredibly low calorie counts. For example, if you want to lose a pound a week, the app suggests cutting your calorie intake by like 25% -- calories burned while exercising is calculated into additional room for food though. Still, I've been following the stuff that George is eating and I'm convinced she's starving herself. I've been trying to tell her that she definitely needs to eat more ("I'm going to tell Mom!") and that she so has body dysmorphia. She countered that I have life dysmorphia. Touché.
On the list of conversations that bore me quickly, exercising and people's diets were high on the list but now that numbers and tracking has entered the equation, I'm semi-in. Let us talk about the evils of processed food and study nutrition labels while gorging on ice cream and eclairs. My treat.
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