I'm sorry. So sorry.

It's been awhile, yes. Forgive me. I was in the warm Texas sun soaking up music, sun and booze for 4 days. Sunday - Tuesday involved lots of depression over being home, so I had to wait till my typical quirkiness returned before hopping on the keys again.

Can one label themselves quirky? Did I just color outside the lines?

Before I leap into recapping my faves of faves du weekend, I will give you a brief update on the experiment. After 4 days of beer and TexMex, coupled with very little sleep and no exercise other than walking and standing all day, I managed to maintain my weight. A minor miracle. A major miracle woulda been coming home down on the pounds. I'll take what I can get, however, and I'll happily roll along.

In updating some co-workers at lunch, I will say that I am down about 16 pounds from New Year's Day. Of course, the holiday season puts a wicked bloat on almost anyone, so a lot of that weight was easily expendable. Since my experiment started, I am down 4 pounds, which has stayed steadily gone. And good riddance.

Now. Onto Austin.

I will list for you all the bands I merit worth listing from my SXSW recon. There may be relevant commentary, there may be irrelevant commentary. On we go.

Deer Tick.
Just missed Deer Tick's sold out show at Empty Bottle in Chicago a few weeks ago, so I was super-juiced to see them at SXSW. I've coined a new genre term for them. Oil can honky tonk. We're talking baggy Wranglers, not-meant-to-be-funny belt buckles, cigarettes pinched twixt the 6-string, raw and dirty vocals and absolutely no bullshit. The kinda guys you'd expect to stroll out to your car at a Mississippi service station and shoot the shit with you, never bothering to remove the smoke from their lips. These guys sound a lot raunchier live than anything I've heard online. More swagger to boot.
The sounds of Deer Tick

The Bird and The Bee.
Cute girls in primary-color baby smocks. That was my first impression. Didn't even know the outfit was really a female/male duo. To me, it was all about the girls. Sweet and bubbly pop. Choreographed moves, which were also adorable, and made me feel like they gave a shit about stage presence and putting on a good show. TBaTB got extra lucky in that the sun was twinkling brightly overhead when they took the stage. And that I had an El Salvador beer in-hand. I had a smile on when they entered, and a teeth-a-plenty when they exeunt.
The sounds of The Bird and The Bee

The Temper Trap.
Australians playing a British Music Embassy showcase, weirdly enough. Sure, they were once occupied, and sure, they've got the Union Jack within their flag, but Australia had it's own showcase, yes? Regardless, they were fabulous. Going back and listening to them online now, they sound worlds away from where I stood that night. Of course, that happens often.
The sounds of The Temper Trap

Echo and the Bunnymen.
My God, they still sound so good. With a "Born on" date of 1978, these dudes were kicking ass while I was still wetting the bed. Okay, fine, I wet the bed till I was 9, is that what you wanted to hear?
The sounds of Echo and the Bunnymen

Dent May and His Magnificent Ukulele.
If you read this blog with any semblance of regularity, you'll know that I recently saw Mr. May and his Uke here in Chicago. Typically, I wouldn't waste my time at SXSW seeing a band I'd seen before. Too many others to discover. I made a special exception for Mr. May, and am glad I did. It was interesting seeing people amble in and oogle him. He's a very odd bird. I love odd birds.
The sounds of Dent May and His Magnificent Ukulele

Now that we've covered the highlights, let's shift into regrets gear.

Bands I missed that I am kicking myself for:

Hot Leg
I didn't even know Justin Hawkins had a side project. Well, is it considered "side" if The Darkness is no more? Last I heard, Justin was swearing he'd never be able to tour again due to his battles with drugs and alcohol. And so here he is again, with his straight from Hair Metal Outer Space voice. My God, that man's got pipes. Hearing the new stuff makes me sad for the demise of The Darkness, which was so over the top. Codpiece rock. One of my favorite records of all time, their debut. At least Justin's out and about again. That little belting elf was selfish to try to hide his shit from the world.

Justin Townes Earle
A Bloodshot boy, and I still haven't managed to see him. Missed him at CMJ and at SXSW. He's got a solid twang and a Faces of Meth mug. Named for Townes Van Zandt and Steve Earle, so what's not to love therein?

Scorpion Child
Some good ole Waterloo, TX boys. Aryn's got the pipes of Chris Cornell, but they sing about much more bad-ass topics, such as living with witches and heart attack thighs. They are my proof that good solid raunch rock is on its way back in. And I've baked it cookies to welcome it home.

The Pepper Pots
A Spanish soul/ska trio of some cute gals. The Pepper Pots. What a cute name. You just wanna love them from the name alone. I wanna be a Pepper Pot.

The She Creatures
Again with a female gimmick band, but I don't care. British alien-chick band, with crazy blue wigs, but damnit, I like the way they sound. They harmonize nicely, and they just so happen to look stellar in silver.

LMFAO
These guys can't be serious. I guess if they are, I can get over the evil feeling from mocking them. Not my usual type-a thing, with the duo DJ set-up, but these guys fold in the funny nicely. Makes you wanna listen to what's being said, not just shake yo' ass.

More Or Les
The one rapper on this year's docket that I really wanted to see. Reminds me a little of a cross between Fresh Prince babied up with Del Tha Funky Homosapien. Clean and clear, with little to no street-shit goin' on.

Cancer Bats
Hard rock verging on metal. From Canada. Now, usually, the Canadian association would turn me off like mom jeans, but these guys are sufficiently harsh. With titles like "Lucifer's Rocking Chair" and "Pneumonia Hawk", you know they have to have a sense of humor.

Considering the list above, you'd think I missed more than I saw. Not the case at all. I saw a lot, just didn't feel the need to shout from the rooftops about all of it. Could've been the ultimate case with the bands listed above had I seen them live.

At SXSW this year I decided 2 things:

I need to stop doing shots. For good.

Everyday should be SXSW. I need to commit to see more live music. No worries, team, I am on the way to making good on that as we speak. Stay tuned.

Did I Miss Again? I Think I Missed Again, Uh-Huh.

Did I do an update at all yesterday? I didn't even look to see.

Today's post will be a little bitchy, to be sure. Had such a shitty afternoon yesterday that it's "carried the one" into today.

In honor of the faboo Phil Collins, I will type to his tunes today.

Yesterday, I went for a little run after work. Aimed for a 30-minute kick-ass sesh, and then upstairs to get ready and head back out to meet co-workers for a little St. Pat's revelry. Grabbed my keys and stuffed them in my moisture-wicking jog bra, not even looking at them. Out the door I went.

When I was finished with my little fun run, I dug around in my sweaty bra to pull out my key. Yep, grabbed the wrong damn key. As the sick feeling sunk in, the piss clouds began to gather.

Walked over to J Patrick's to see if they'd let me use their phone to call my building management company. Of course, I don't know their number off the top of my head, so I needed to look it up. They didn't really offer much help. Guess this means I'll spend a little less time and money at their establishment, even though they are mere doors down from me. On over to 5-Star where Raquel was a shining angel. Raquel whipped out her laptop and tried to help me look up JS Huron, my management company. Then, she offered her cell phone to try to 411 them. Fuckers aren't listed. What dicks.

The crap icing on the crap cupcake here is that the only phone number I know by memory in this town is Mike's. The only person who has my spare keys is Mike. Where is Mike? Mike's in Aruba, where we were supposed to be together on vacation. Before we broke up. So, I got to sit on my stoop and think about that for a cool 3 hours yesterday.

As I sat, I tried to think of a plan. I thought of a few, and all of them were mapped and then consequently aborted in my head. One plan I executed was climbing my fire escape to try to break into my window. My fire escape is pretty rickety, and I am on the 4th floor of a walk-up. Once you pass the 3rd floor, you hit the ladder level. So, here I am, climbing a rickety, rusty ladder with shaky muscles from my run. Thank God I have had a Tetanus shot in the last few years. I was sure I was gonna die up there, staring at the ground and the shaky ladder. As I climbed onto my half-landing and backed up to the window, I remembered that I'd had it fixed. Yep, it wasn't coming open. Back down the ladder I went.

During all this madness, I was buzzing every apartment in my building. There always seems to be someone around. All of us have weird comings and goings, so someone had to be there. After buzzing a good round of 5 for each unit, I then buzzed every 15 minutes for 3 hours. Guess no one was home.

Waiting for 3 hours is boring shit, people. I had to busy myself or I would lose my mind. I picked up every piece of trash from our building lot. That took a good half hour and was totally disgusting. I think the kids in our neighborhood are dealing drugs in our lot, because I found lots of tiny plastic bags, one even imprinted with the Superman logo. Isn't that designer acid? Jesus. That's good news.

I watched all sorts of people cross our lot as a shortcut. Something that chaps my hide, since I know they are the a-holes dropping all the trash on their way through.

I watched some birds play and wondered if they were friends.

I watched the trees above slap into each other with their naked branches, and delighted in the happy clicking.

I watched neighbors coming and going, some walking their dogs in the beautiful weather, while Minnie Pearl was upstairs, trapped in my apartment with my keys.

And then. I watched the dryer vent doors swing on. Someone was home in our building. The whole time. And didn't let me in. I ran over to the basement windows and started banging. I knew they were in there. Saw the basement door open and close through the window, and banged on that, shouting for someone to come out and let me in. Nope. That's one committed a-hole in there.

This is why I committed years ago to never fall prey to Bystander Syndrome.

At this point, the piss clouds weren't just drizzling anymore, they were full-on cumulonimbus.

When a neighbor finally came to my rescue, I was hellbent on finding the traitor inside my building. Funny, no one answered the knocks on their doors. Thought of leaving a nasty note on the dryer, but control prevailed.

With all that time to stew, I was out of control, and my plans for the evening were ruined. I sat in the dark for a bit with a bottle of red and waited for Paty and Marisa to come to my rescue and talk me down. Thank God they did. I have some really good friends.

Dark times indeed. This girl needs a vacation. Good thing she's getting one tomorrow.

Falling Off the Blogwagon

Okay, okay. Sorry I have been remiss in keeping these 3-a-day posts going. I promise to get better. At least until I head to Austin on Thursday morning for SXSW. There'll be a little break in programming till Monday or so, while I wrassle some beers and indie-skinny-jean boys in The Republic.

This weekend was pretty much a success. When I think of all the slippery chutes I coulda fallen down, I am pretty proud of all the ladders I managed on, up and out.

Friday night was my night off. Suppose it mighta counted for my entire day and night off. No gym on Friday, and a cocktail fiasco to end all others. Ended up at Mid-America Club with Moni, doing tequila shots. Not what I thought was gonna happen when I dressed up on Friday morning, thinking I was going somewhere respectable. I guess if the joint were respectable, they woulda bounced me immediately upon my invasion.

After Mid-American, Moni and I rolled on over to 5-Star for some din-din. Apres le din-din, I was dropped at home where I dabbled in my usual drunk baking. Poor Minnie Pearl had batter on her ears and back the next morning. My little muffin.

Saturday I was the model of composure. A huge drinking day in Chicago, maybe even bigger than Halloween and New Year's combined and little homegirl here only had 2 beers. Wanted to be social with my Homey Loves Chachi sweethearts and head out for a little Erotic Photo Hunt after our show. Town Hall was packed to the gills, and I got way tired of being butt-bumped all night, so I headed home. Didn't even meet up with The Devs on their urban prowl, though now I wish I had. The photos look pretty funny.

Sunday was gorgeous. Skipped my Ladies Who Brunch club and stayed home to make myself a respectable meal. Met up with Casey after brunch to take Goose to the Wicker puppy park. Got a dose of Vitamin D, then decided I'd head home for a run instead of holing up indoors at the gym.

Maintained through the weekend. My willpower grows daily. I feel myself hunkering down further and further, winding my hands in the rope for better grip. Summer's right around the corner. San Juan and Austin are breathing down my neck, and that neck will be svelte, damnit!

Man, It Was Hard to Get Outta Bed This Morning

Yesterday was a two-solid-meals day, and you'd think I'd have more energy today. Welp, I don't. I had to peel myself from the sweet, soft sheets this morning. I had wrinkles all over my face and body I was sleeping so hard. Dreaming of going to a hootenanny in Tenis, IL. I am sure such a place does not exist in real life. Funny how I said the name over and over again in the dream, making sure I was pronouncing and spelling it right. Yes, Tenis, IL.

I didn't take any Hoodia yesterday. Think that's why I'm tired? Of course, I had a frenzied day yesterday. Minnie to the vet, straight to the gym to whoop some ass, up and down my 4th floor (and down into the basement) maybe 10 trips last night. Could those be culprits? Not sure, but I am exhausted.

Yesterday's solid food treats included corned beef and cabbage with pureed carrots for lunch and a turkey burger and kale for dinner. Weight went up a little this morning, though that doesn't bother me at all. Maybe I should go back to once a week weigh-ins, but I think it's pretty interesting to watch your body's fluxes more closely. If you don't let it unravel you.

There was a milestone, so to speak, yesterday. I entered a new tax bracket. Crossed a state line. Closed a door and opened a window. All ways to say I dropped into a new weight bracket. Always a nice thing to see. Something to give you impetus to push harder, go lower. Of course, here I am going into the weekend. Weekends are hard.

I will try to step up my blogging. It really only takes 5 minutes or so to whip one of these things out. They're pretty stream-of-consciousness, with little formality.

Networking cocktails after work today. Let's see if I can keep those to a minimum and avoid the food dangers that result.

Quick note. Mexico's location and dates have been changed. Now going to San Juan at the end of April. Gives me more time, which is good. Longer to wait for warmth, which is bad. Thank God Austin's next week. I am tired as hell of this winter.

Another Milestone, Despite Further Resistance

Another 2.5 pounds this morning. This is a total of 6.5 in just over a week. I even ate 2 solid meals yesterday, so this is a nice surprise. For breakfast, eggs, lunch was liquid, and for dinner, a turkey burger, kale and some beans.

My brother called last night. He was alerted of my liquid diet by one of our friends. He asked me all sorts of questions, which I told him he'd already have answers to if he'd been reading this blog. He expressed his concern, and I added it to the list.

Don't get me wrong, it's nice to know that people care about me, but I also think a lot of people just don't identify. Without having walked the road I am walking, it's impossible for them to identify. Who do I think would understand? Let's see... Kirstie Alley? Carnie Wilson? Ricki Lake? Wow, that's quite a group.

I feel quite bright-eyed and bushy-tailed today. Liquid breakfast, solid lunch, and we'll see how I feel after the gym about what to eat/drink for dinner.

SXSW is one week away. I'll be forced off my trike by being removed from my regular day-to-day, which makes it easy to succeed. Should I find a gym? Should I run in the heat? I'll figure something out. Gotta counteract the drinking and lack of sleep that's sure to tear at my seams. And obviously, I'll need to stay away from Home Slice Pizza this time around. Damn, that shit is good.

The First "Incident"

Coming home on the bus yesterday, I had the first real "incident" of my experiment. I believe the whole shebang was my own fault, and I will explain why now.

Once a day for the past 2 days, I'd enjoyed a cup of "Get Regular" Yogi tea. This was in an effort to keep things "on track", if you feel me. Yesterday I began to feel a little rumbly in my tumbly, yet was distracted at work and let it ride. Big mistake.

So here I am, trapped by bodies on the Grand bus. The rumbling turns into pain, sharp shooting pain. "Uh-oh", I think. Time to stand up. Standing up didn't alleviate the cramping. Sometimes it does, but this time the strategy failed. Here's when panic starts to kick in, and panic does nothing but feed the fire.

The blood starts to drain from my face and I feel light-headed. A pass-out is coming if I can't exorcise the demons. It took a whole century to cross one intersection on that packed-ass bus. Got off at the Grand Blue Line stop and felt my knees going weak. My body started to hum with electricity. For you fainters out there, you know what I am talking about.

I can hardly believe I made it across the 3-intersection cross to get into Blue Iguana. I kept pushing myself, knowing that if I dropped in the street not only could I get runt over, but it would be an embarrassing spectacle with a traffic stop and strangers, etc. Eff that.

I must've looked like a ghost when I dragged through the Blue Iguana door. Don't think I made eye contact as I huffed, "Bathroom?" and tried to keep from puking on the floor.

Locked myself in the bathroom, still trying to keep on my feet.

For anyone who's ever experienced an IBS attack knows how scary they are. Couple that with the powerful fainty feeling I had, and we've got a disaster. Good thing about these attacks is that once you shed the toxins, you're fine. It took awhile, but I felt my body reboot, buzzing back to life, back to into focus.

After that, I was fine. Totally fine.

I am sure if I hadn't ignored by body all day at work, the attack would've never happened.

So, here I am post liquid lunch the next day. Liquid for dinner last night, eggs for breakfast and a liquid lunch. I did make a stop at the grocery store last night after Watchmen to buy loads of turkey (protein), egg whites (protein) and raw veggies. Think I should add some light solids and proteins into my daytime habit.

Time to evolve, methinks.

The Fat Gym Rat

Got another *tsk tsk* today. I've been warned against crash diets. Is this a crash diet if I've been trying all sorts of things and nothing's working? Is it a crash if I am working out and consulting a previous trainer for advice?

2 years ago I weighed 30 pounds less. I would not call myself a sedentary person, so where did this bulk of weight come from? I started taking some meds a couple years ago that I think may be (partly) to blame, but these meds I cannot come off of. So what to do? I'm not a lazy dieter who focuses on food alone, and won't get her ass off the couch to exercise. Oh no. I kick ass at the gym. I'm in there with the musclehead packs, lifting weights. I'm sweating all over the place during cardio, because if you're not sweating, you're not working hard enough.

I don't feel like I eat horribly, in that I am not a fast food person, I love my veggies, and I try focus on things that are good for me. So why has it been such a bitch of a chore?

People claim it's not true, but there are people who are born thin and will stay that way forever with minimal effort. And then there are people like me who are very into health and may not look like it. Which sucks holy ass.

There was an episode of House on last week that made me hate Dr. Chase. There was a little girl who had a heart attack while jumping rope at school. I believe she was 9-10 years old and being teased horribly by her classmates. Children can be real rat bastards if you ask me. But, I digress. The girl ate healthy, exercised and was still big. It was wrecking her emotionally, as she could find no friends but her mother. Dr. Chase constantly made bitchy remarks about her, suggesting she stop stuffing her face, get off the couch, etc. He was a real dick. Still hot with that accent, but a dick. Turned out the girl had glandular problems, and once the renegade catalyst was removed, the weight dropped like magic. This episode of House exposed the idea of fattism, which Chase clearly is. Of course, who doesn't, truly?

My takeaway is that you can't look at someone and tell how hard they are trying. There are gals at my gym who are there religiously, kicking ass. They are no skinny minnies. Then look at some of the girls who went to my old gym, who refused to break a sweat on minimal-resistance elliptical machines. These girls for sure were pounding burgers at lunch, and still seemed marathon runners compared to others.

Points to ponder, people.

It's a Beautiful Mornin'

11:10 A.M. on day 7. One week, one whole week. I didn't die. My heart didn't burst like a trodden grape.

Yesterday was a bit of a downer, as I was feeling the direct results of my Bacchanalian weekend. My weight all came back, and with it a horrible flush of realization. Then, last night, I went out to dinner, and controlled myself somewhat. And today? Today, my weight's back down to where it was at last week's low.

So, I've got my fight re-injected and I'm ready to throw down.

I'm trying something new for week 2. I ate 2 scrambled eggs and some salsa verde this morning for breakfast. I'm going to try moving my solid meal around. Tonight I am supposed to go see Watchmen, so it'll be easier for me to do a liquid dinner. As I've said before, when I am sitting home at night with no plans, I feel the need for the ritual of food. It's not just the feeling in your belly of being full, it's the actual motions involved in feeding yourself that trigger your brain to know you're satisfied. If my mind is out and about when I'm out and about, I don't need that ritual.

So today's line-up will be liquid lunch and dinner. Gym after work before Watchmen. Tomorrow, I am hoping we'll see another drop.

Cross your pingies.

Finding Middle Ground

Had plans after work with Paty and Marisa. We trolled through Nordie's for a bit before heading over to Hub 51 for dinner. The ladies are aware of my experiment, and picked a place with plenty of yummy low/no-carb options.

For dinner we shared small plates of jerky, arugula salad, shrimp ceviche, sesame tuna tartare and brussel sprout salad. I refrained from drinking, mostly for the calories, not because I was feeling bad from the weekend.

Speaking of this weekend past, how come I am the only person who's never heard of the shampoo effect? I was wondering aloud how come I drank just as much Friday as Saturday, yet Saturday night I felt it way more. How could I have missed this socio-cultural phenom? Explains so much.

Fully planned to go to the gym after Hub 51, though I am sure somewhere deep down I knew that would never happen. Parked my car there this morning, in a grand display, and tucked my tail between my legs as I hopped in from a cab after dinner, headed straight home.

Woke up late this morning, so my planned A.M. smart start was D.O.A. Maybe I'll try again tomorrow A.M., though I do far favor going after work. Yes, it is great to get it all out of the way and have nothing to do after work in case you get sidetracked. I don't feel like I work out as hard in the morning, however. Everyone's got their hours of the day, the hours they feel most creative, focused and alive. Mine are typically late night, around 10-midnight. My gym isn't open then, plus it may be hard to relax and get to sleep after kicking some late-night ass. So, I settle for evening, when my blood starts to course, prepping for its zenith.

Sipping on some "Get Regular" yogi tea. The past few days have not been my norm. No pain or anything to speak of, but I don't wanna get all backed up. I don't do well with backed up.

I whipped out the following quote for April today, and couldn't believe it hadn't made it into my blog yet. From the mouth of the crazy genius, "It's flyer to be hungry than fat." Oh, Prince, you sexy devil. Where can I get fridge magnets made with that sage credo imprinted upon them? Just imagine. Time for dinner? No. Prince thinks you're fat.

Thinking I may need to introduce a little toss up here and there this week. Maybe alter which meal is the solid meal. Would prolly do more good to front load than back load, yes? Easier on nights when I'm not sitting around home. Those are the nights when I rely on the ritual of food. When I am on the go, I don't need that structure, that reassurance. I've got some shit planned this week, so I'll shake it up a little and see what happens.

Also, the Hoodia piece of the puzzle may pull out after this week. Bought the last box of Hoodia Rapid Gels today. Think it's discontinued, which is how Sandy D says you know something's good, they discontinue it. So, if I can't find any more next week, I move up to HydroxyCut and let the true psycho shit kick in. Prolly time to get a little nutso and verge on a heart attack, yes? Gotta keep the readers insterested.

Did I mention the couple Carlie Horses I got over the weekend? Haven't had one of those since high school growing pains. Thank God they were in and out. Jesus, they hurt. Love how they attack your shit mid-snooze and rip your brain from restful slumber, plunging it directly to the bowels of physical hell. Might be what having a baby feels like, if babies came out your calves.

Time to get back to Gregory House, M.D. He's a medical doctor, and I love him. I have a feeling he'd be into me, too.

Chasing the Wagon

I didn't just fall off the wagon this weekend, I can't even see the wagon anymore. Was there a fork in the road? Which way did it go?

It's 11:38 A.M. on day 6. This weekend was a study in the loss of self control. Friday night I managed to keep a modicum, sticking to veggies and protein for dinner, and drinking limited amounts of Jack and soda.

Saturday, I woke around noon, drank some coffee, took my vitamins and went to lunch with Mike. We went to Jerry's. If you do not know Jerry's, then I have great pity for you. Jerry's is responsible for the best sammiches in the city. You can get anything on any kind of bread. It's like a candy shop. A candy shop filled with sammiches. I had a roast beef sammich with horseradish and provolone. It was frickin' tasty. Drank some lemongrass tea, and skipped the side. Mike, who informed me he's signed up for the marathon, only ate half his sammich, making me look like an asshole. Oh well, not the first time. Or the last.

Had plans to meet some girlfriends around 9, so at 6:30, I headed over to the gym. Gym was closed, god-dangit. Who closes a gym that early? So, nothing doing there. My apartment isn't set up for work-outs. Hardwood floors throughout, not a run in sight. My fault, yes, but what you gonna do? So, there goes Saturday's workout. I drank a SlimFast for dinner since I'd already had my solid food for the day. Headed out to Quenchers to meet the gals.

At Quenchers, I started on a mission. I didn't know it was a mission at the time, per se. Stuck to my Jack and soda plan. Of course, it's not the best plan when you consume 10-15 in one night. There's math involved. Addition, specifically. My God, the calories. And, as I mentioned before, we're not talking about liquor calories alone, we're talking the consequential calories, which for me was a very large slice of sausage pizza at 2 A.M. Jesus.

Woke up on Sunday, to the sound of pouring rain. We're talking a nooner again. Minnie Pearl was all up in my grill, waiting to go outside. I knew she'd hate it out there. She's pretty girly about precipitation. Dragged my ass down the 4 flights, and back up. Plopped on the couch, and pretty much stayed there all day. Yesterday was as close to hibernation as you can get. Didn't even try to get up and go anywhere. Let the seasonal depression take root and went with it.

So, no gym yesterday. No gym this morning, which is what I promised myself I would do. Have plans after work with Paty and Marisa. We're meeting at Hub 51, where I will try very hard to not eat or drink, and then get to the gym before it closes. Yeah, I'm realistic alright. I'll let you know how that all works out.

Weighed myself this morning, and due to this weekend's horrible choices, I am 1.5 pounds over my starting weight. That's a 4-lb. gain over the weekend. Of course, I don't think I poo'd all weekend, so that could be part of it. Not 4 pounds, I hope. Whew!

Back on track today. As much as I can be, I guess. Back to the liquids, back to downing gallons of water, verging on prison drunk.

Not feeling too super bad about this weekend's consequences, as I did have a fabulous time. Also, sounds like Mexico's about to be a non-issue with all the drug bullshit going on down there. Martial law? What the hell is going on down there. The trip is hanging in the balance at the moment, so maybe I will get more than a few weeks to turn this train around.

Noon-ish, Day Four

Missed my dinner post last night. What could I do, it was Friday night. Met my Mexican-adventure cohort, Meghan, out for dinner with a couple of her buddies. Enter Joe and Murphtini. Went to Fizz and I drank water and ate a turkey patty with swiss and julienne veggies. Fizz has great food, if you didn't know, and I think for a Friday night out, that was a pretty reasonable choice.

Of course, then the Jack started to flow.

I'd had one PBR earlier in the afternoon when I was over at GrubHub doing a little Rock Band bonding. Pretty good restraint, methinks. Had time to chill before dinner and Dent May, and I behaved pretty well then, munching on celery stalks, waiting for Fizz.

Flash to Schubas, where we went to see Dent May and His Magnificent Ukelele. When drinking on this diet, which I am trying to control, I am going with Jack and soda. Soda having no calories or carbs, and Jack, though more potent with calories and kick in large amounts, is still the wiser choice than even light beer for a night of boozing.

Not sure exactly how many J&S's I downed last night, but I did not get "drunk". Sure, I'd of blown the back out of a breathalizer, maybe, but I was a little nervous with the liquid diet and carb cut down that I'd be tipsy after one drink. Not so.

Did a little happy dancing during Dent's faboo show. My Lord, if you are not aware of him, please get so. He'll change your outlook. I was over-the-moon happy last night. Smiling, swaying, the whole shebang.

My former intern, and personal trainer, Rachel (a.k.a. Rocky, Raquel, Rooney) came out with her friend Lisa to meet up with us for Dent. I told her all about my experiment, and figured she'd be a great one to weigh in, being a personal trainer and all. She told me that I would be fine. I related that I was worried I would be bored on this plan, but she reminded me that seeing results always staves off boredom. Rocky's promised to pop in to leave comments during the remainder of the experiment.

At Dent, another co-worker and some friends joined the fray. Now we're full balls out. End up heading down to UnderBar, where I started to lose steam. Of course, this was at 3 A.M. Headed home around 3:30, where of course, the inevitable happened. Not only are cocktails horrible for their immediate calories, they also beget late-night eating. I had a couple small corn tortillas with refried beans, cheese and green salsa on them. Not terrible, but not good when you're about to lie down to sleep. Sumo action is counter-productive.

Was worried when I took to the scales this morning, but I only took back half a pound. Not terrible for last night's choices. No solid food yet today. Only coffee and water, with my morning vitamins. Gonna go eat a sammich at Jerry's and then I'll go liquid for tonight, so I can keep to one solid meal for today. Of course, I have plans later tonight to hit up Quenchers, so there will be more drinking yet, and probably more late night culinary horrors.

Why can one weekend undo one whole week? Jesus.

Lunchtime Shopping Spree

Not so much a "spree", actually. Didn't buy anything. Bought some Jack Black Supreme Cream for Sandy D's hubby, Brad. Was looking for some sundresses for SXSW, as it gets hot as a son of a bitch down there. Nothing that was cottony and cool. Only too-nice, too-synth dresses.

Sorry I didn't come through on the pink capris.

The girls stayed on to have lunch, but I chose to come on back. Already drank my lunch and popped my Hoodia before I left. Need to now focus on trying to find a joint to eat at tonight that will provide the necessary proteins and veggies, and minimal temptation.

This weekend will be a trial of its own. It's very easy during the work week to stay on track. So much of your weekday is scheduled and habitual. Weekends come along with the potential to undo all your hard work. Remove the proverbial nose from the proverbial grindstone.

Tomorrow I have lunch plans at Jerry's Sandwiches, so let's see if I can make that the solid meal and shift everything else to liquid. I do have plans for Quenchers tomorrow night, which will entice the inner drunk. Let's see if I have any resolve left in me after last night. And tonight.

Dear God, I wish I was a bird so I could fly, far, far away.

Day Three, and Still Truckin'

After last night's force of will, and this morning's .5 pound loss, I am just as committed as ever. Headache was minimal when I woke up and went away entirely by the time I got to work and had my first couple sips of coffee.

Went to the gym this morning, since Meghan and I are going out after work. Did some straight-up cardio. Today's weather has got me all springy-in-me-steppy. Vernal vivaciousness, I like to call it. The idea that warmth is around the corner. The idea that I can wear sundresses soon. My ass loves a sundress. The idea that SXSW is right around the corner. Then Mexico. Then block parties and street fests. It's all making me high. I can just smell the awesomeness on the horizon.

So, after that little happy rant, I think we can safely say that I've not become a raging bitch during this experiment. I'm nowhere near weepy or suicidal. I still feel great. So great, in fact, that I may go purchase some capris at lunch. Pink ones. Eff the haters.

10:45 P.M., Day Two

I am fuggin' amazed at myself right now. We had a floor mixer this evening at work. Kegs, liquor and pizza; pizza I ordered myself from one of my favorite joints, Pie-Eyed on Chicago. I managed to scrape outta that gig only picking one tiny bit o' sausage from Evan's pizza. Drank maybe one Jack and soda total, which is a steal being as with minimal Jack and soda being no calorie, no carb, I was pretty much an angel.

Even packed up all the leftover pizzas with my own hands. Didn't even lick my damn fingers.

What the hell is going on here?

Onward into the night, a few of us moved over to Dirty Bingo at Victory Liquors. Nothing but water for me there. I also managed to win "The Shocker" bingo, and with it a sweet bra with skulls for cups.

Word is getting 'round about my experiment. Mostly because of my own fat mouth. Got some funny reactions at the mixer tonight. "You've had no solid food today, and yet drinking heavily is a good idea?" But I had hardly drank a drop. "That shit is not good for you." Oh, I am sure of that, but as of right now I am still feeling great. "How long do you aim to keep this up?" Um, until I crack.

One dude wanted to tell me all about how fasting for 3 days at a time is actually good for you, but anything more than that is bad. "3 days clears out your GI tract", he said, as I licked the chocolate off my fingers from the protein bar I was eating for dinner.

I believe I have moved away from doing this as a physical experiment and am now viewing it as more of a test of my willpower. It's mind-blowing how much of our diet and health is tied to social events. Birthday dinners, going out to lunch with co-workers, dinner dates, drinks after work, drinks during work. It's sort of odd when you stand back and look at the phenomenon from the outside. And yet, those social gatherings are the stuff of life. You almost become an outsider if you do not partake. Who shows up to a birthday dinner and doesn't eat? Who meets up for drinks and doesn't drink? Shit's tough.

I do have a little headache right now. Had a little one last night as well, which didn't occur to me until this one crept on me tonight. Since I know I'm hydrated, being as I'm pretty much sucking down the eau from a hydrant, I wonder if it's guarana or caffeine related. Maybe it's food related. I am not sure, but it's the first "bad" feeling I've felt.

When I got home tonight, I grabbed a handful of celery before I took Minnie out. Came back up and ate a little savoy cabbage, raw. My night meals have formed their own pattern. Protein and raw veggies. So far, so good. I like raw veggies.

Gotta get my butt in bed now. Need to go to the gym before work tomorrow, as tomorrow night is a big night. Dent May and His Magnificent Ukelele are in town. Yeehaw! I love me some Dent May.

More in the A.M.

Lunchtime, Day Two

Had "lunch" over an hour ago. 2 Hoodias and a SlimFast. Still feeling fine. Not bouncing off the walls, not falling asleep on my desk. Pretty even-keeled, which feels like a nice change.

Haven't had a chance to test my cat-like reflexes today. No ping pong as of yet. There will be beer pong later, but that doesn't really count for a reflex test. Would I be uncool to suggest sparkling water pong? Don't wanna booze up this afternoon, as I don't want to spoil my returns. Of course, if anything, I do know myself and am sure I will have at least one. Or three.

Still no solid food today. My energy boost from the workout this morning is holding on nicely. Of course, it could be the anticipation of the big party today. Ever noticed how a 5-year old gets amped as hell when going to a birthday party? Maybe that's the haps here. No way to tell, as I have introduced so many new factors, that picking them apart is impossible.

Ah well. Back to work. Maybe, if I'm feelin' it later, I'll run laps 'round the floor. That's not weird, is it?

Day Two

Perched at my desk, sippin' on my coffee, catching up on my overnight emails. Thought I'd take a moment to catch up on my HoodiaFast log.

It's 10 A.M. on the morning of day two. After how alert, focused and energized I was yesterday, I thought for sure I'd have problems sleeping last night. Nope. Feel asleep on the couch watching House, as per usual. Minnie Pearl roused me a couple times with her adorable sores and intermittent kicks. Nothing I couldn't overcome. Thought also I'd have some crazy dreams, sparked by the chemicals coursing through my system. Maybe some happy dreams, which would be a welcome change, since starvation usually begets euphoria towards the end. Nope, nothing out of the usual.

Went to the gym this A.M., and focused mostly on weights today since last night was a cardio frenzy. Again, no light-headedness, plenty of energy and focus. Slammed my SlimFast before the workout, just in case I needed the blood sugar boost. Felt great.

Here I am almost 3 hours after waking, and I have had no solid food since last night's crudite and protein. Not feeling hungry. Haven't felt a rumble yet.

Speaking of rumbles, without solid food packed in my system, I missing a couple different rumbles, if you feel me...

Got on the scale before the gym, and was 2.5 pounds lighter. That's 24 hours. Doubtful it's water weight, being as I drank my body weight in water yesterday. I tell you what, my skin will be a dream soon, if hydration has its say.

There's a floor mixer today after work. I ordered kegs and pizza. Digging down deep for the resolve to steer clear of both those demons and stay steadfast with my experiment. I don't want to taint my results.

Do you think I need a control in this experiment? Sandy D. offered. She's been hitting the gym hardcore-religiously lately, so she'd be an excellent addition to the plan. Sandy D., whaddaya say?

My jeans were annoying me all day yesterday, slipping down over and over. All women know what a fabulous feeling that is. Today, I am wearing a dress that's been hanging in my closet for months. Haven't worn it yet, cause when I got it home after a spend-a-thon, I decided it didn't look good enough on to wear just yet. Today, it's okay. Not its best, but okay.

10:15 now. Time to cut out and get some work shit nailed down.

Viva Viagra!

Hoodia Tillett

At this point, I am thinking I will name my first born "Hoodia". Hoodia Tillett. It's gotta good beat and you can dance to it.

Perhaps it's the Hoodia coursing through my veins right now, or the remains of the guarana from this morning, but I am feeling divine. Went to the gym right after work, with no solid food in my belly from the day. Didn't stop me from kicking the shit outta that treadmill at a 21% incline. 31.5 minutes, 600 calories. I think I was actually sloshing sweat on the poor dude next to me. I used to attribute a day's gym triumphs and letdowns to the luck of the musical shuffle ringing in my ears, but not today. It wasn't Blackie Lawless pushing me further. Not Joan or even Angus and Brian. It was something else entirely. Hoodia.

It may be a little too soon to sing the praises of this mythical cactus, as it's only day one. Tomorrow I could be standing on a ledge, talking to myself, inciting terror below. I suppose the only difference there would be the ledge. Tomorrow I could have no energy whatsoever, or my hunger could come back triple force and I take down the entire food court at 225 N. Michigan. Tomorrow I could be surly and offend a co-worker with an insensitive statement. Again, not unfamiliar territory, I suppose.

But not today. Today was a rounding success. I wasn't sad, I was ecstatic. I wasn't hungry, I was full. I wasn't tempted to jump from the proverbial bandwagon.

I am logging from my dining room table, TV off behind me. Being home with no TV or music on is a rarity for me. My mind yearns for over-stimulation. But not right now. Right now I am calm and focused. Feel like I could scribble all night. In fact, I may.

I've got my snow peas beside me now, riding on the heels of the carrots, celery and coupla slices of turkey breast I had for dinner. Wasn't hungry, but knew I had to eat something today.

I got a lot of concerned feedback from friends and co-workers today. Some worried that I was serious about not eating at all. Well, no. I'm not insane. Some worried that my heart will burst during over-exertion at the gym. Felt nothing strange tonight. No flutters, no light-headedness. Again, this is day one. Should shit get crazy, I'll ratchet back. Until then, it's full force. Turbo tornado style.

That's how I roll.

Day One, Lunch One

Just popped my first Hoodia and slammed a Slimfast.

I didn't feel hungry for lunch, and the first installment of Hoodia is the first installment of a so-called appetite suppressant. We'll see how that carries me through gym time to dinner time. My guess is I will be ready to murder and cannibalize by close of business today.

Feeling upbeat, feeling focused.

Did a little Wiki-ing on Hoodia this morning. Supposedly, it's a cactus-like plant that Bushmen eat on long hunting trips to stave off hunger. Wonder if this means I'll look hot clad in a loincloth, too. Wonder if you can smoke Hoodia. I could get myself a little circle going. Get some ladies in an arc and smoke the Hoodia peace pipe.

I need to do a mid-day test of my reflexes. Wonder if I can talk Colin into ponging with me again. Wonder if his wounds are licked clean yet.

Today, the experiment begins.

I keep calling it a social experiment, but I suppose that's a verbal force of habit. This experiment is purely physical.

Yesterday I made some crazy plans with a couple co-workers to head to Mexico in one month to meet up with a band of strangers and share a house. Having recently been dragged through somewhat of an emotional ringer with the break-up of a 4+ year relationship, this trip is both needed and terrifying. On the cusp of bathing suit season, and for the first time having to give a shit what I look like in a bathing suit, after years of unconditional love, the pressure is on.

Now, let's backtrack a little. I am already doing due diligence with getting myself back to good, physically. I'm working out, eating much better than I have been in recent history, and in a positive mind frame about where I am going. In this spirit of the insanity of this pending trip, and with a tiny bit of a self-destructiveness in my blood (I am a Scorpio, mind you), I thought I'd throw a little gasoline on the fire. Go for broke, if you will.

Last night I paid a visit to Walgreens with my enabler, Sandy D. I bought some weight maintenance vitamins, some Hoodia and some Slimfast. I related to the check-out girl that I had a big trip coming in a month and had to step up my game. She laughed until I followed that comment with, "This cocktail could cause my heart to burst. You may be the last person to see me alive." Grim, yes.

After Walgreens, I went to the gym, ate a light dinner and went to sleep. After all, tomorrow was another day. A day of beginnings.

During this process, I have decided to chronicle my feelings, both physical and emotional. I will even interject others' perceptions of how I am behaving. "Amber's looking sleepy today." "That evil bitch won't stop staring me down." "Why can't she stop crying?" Those sorts of things.

I will aim to do at least one entry a day, but 3 would be ideal. One per mealtime, gauging my optimism, energy level and emotional state. Don't miff if I don't come through. I will indeed keep you posted. Maybe I'll even throw in some photos, though don't cross your fingers for any bikini shots.

It's 10:39 A.M. on Tuesday, March 4th. I had my vitamins, a Slimfast and some coffee this morning. On my second bottle of water. Feeling good. Even beat Colin in ping pong this morning, which I attribute to sharp reflexes. Maybe it's the guarana.

A post-lunch post to come, and our first of many guest entries.