I must be high, kids, because I have chosen this week to go on a protein shake diet and quit smoking.

I gained ten pounds during the last few weeks, which has spawned this sudden diet freak-out. I’m sure that this had absolutely nothing to do with the copious shoveling of Halloween candy into my fat face. The cessation of said chocolate would surely solve said problem, but I’d like to lose a few extra pounds on top of the ten anyway, so to the vitamin-laden protein shakes I go.

During this particular diet, I eat a normal breakfast and drink the shakes for lunch and dinner. It’s actually healthier than it sounds, since I’m doubling up on vitamins and water, and I actually do feel and function better on less solid food for some reason. Something about it gives me more energy.

The quitting of cigarettes is something B. and I decided to do, perhaps ill-advisedly at a time in which we are both stressed to the gills; B. with school and me with the fun task of figuring out how to start school again and also looking for new part-time work.

I need to quit, though. Lately I find myself both short of breath while running and unreasonably broke (120.00 a month on cigarettes, which is ludicrous), so I think it’s time.

I know I’ve attempted to quit a thousand times before, so I’m not making any massive promises, but I am going to give it the old college try. I’m going to use the patch for a few weeks and see how it goes. I’m currently on my last pack.

B. is using the e-cigarette, a device which I find interesting. It has no tar or chemical additives and emits water vapor instead of smoke. He initially bought some sort of strawberry-flavored nicotine solution for the thing by accident, and upon trying it, I dubbed it, “Strawberry Ass”. This stuff was seriously nasty. I’ve since tried the menthol flavor, which isn’t too bad, but I don’t plan to use it with the patch because I don’t really want to OD on nicotine.

That’s essentially what I’m doing now, after all.

So here’s hoping I don’t completely lose my shit this week and become a raging alcoholic, a complete and total shrew, a child-beater, or one of those crazy white people who goes up onto a bell tower with an AK-47.

Here’s hoping.

In other news, am I a relationship? I don’t know. We don’t talk about it. We talk on the phone multiple times per day. We see each other multiple times per week. We frequently talk about the future in tentative terms. Neither of us are sleeping with anyone else or seeing anyone else. There is use of terms of endearments.

We had a state of the union talk several weeks ago and decided that we were not going to approach the R word due to the fact that it was too soon, too intense, too much, too fast; but it certainly feels as if I am entrenched in something, here.

Perhaps I am over-analyzing and should simply go with the flow. However, it is in my nature to analyze the shit out of everything. It maddens me. When I bother to let on this charming little character trait it probably maddens everyone around me, too.

I could use a little Zen.

In still other news, my hard drive is full. Full. I have so much music that I have completely filled the laptop’s entire fucking hard drive.

Oh, do I long for terabytes of space. Every time I log on to this damned thing now, it warns me: You Have Low Disk Space.

Danger, Will Robinson.

I don’t even know whether I can obtain a new hard drive for this thing. I don’t know whether it even has the capacity for a new one.

I know virtually nothing about this machine. I just bought it on a whim, like I do everything. Smart.

I could probably store some of my music on a flash drive, but then iTunes is going to erase everything off of my iPod, and my world will be a dark, desolate place.

Help.

In still other news, we had a few guys here yesterday putting up new gutters, and may I say that they did indeed have gutter mouths.

I have never heard so many f-bombs in my whole life.

Now I am certainly prone to drop a fuck or three on this page, and maybe one or two in real life if provoked or intoxicated. (Or animated.) However, the Eff Word isn’t really a part of my daily lexicon. Once you have a kid, it’s sort of drilled out of you.

I was in the garage having a smoke when I heard an onslaught of motherfucking fuck fucking fuckers.

I mean, gosh. I’m a delicate flower!

Heh.

Happy Thursday.

Jesus.

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