Yo-Ho, plunder the Wal-Mart!

So Anyways, I love Wal-Mart. No where else makes me feel so thin, handsome, and normal. Point in case: today as my wife and I were checking out, this guy walked by. Beard. flannel shirt. Blue jeans. Normal stuff, at first! But as I was looking down at the card-scanner, about to enter my pin, I see the guy's feet. Well, first, I see that his jeans are the insane-o tight 1980's wranglers. And then I see his feet.





Pirate Boots. Honest to Heck freaking shiver me timbers pirate boots.

Yeah, those. And he was just skee-daddlin' his way through Wal-Mart, as though not a thing in the world was up, or strange, or odd as hell.

Makes me feel so normal.

Biggest Looser Season 9- Now even Loosier!

Yep. Lemur Queen here.

I am the reason that Fat Rock was eating dinner while watching the biggest biggest loosers ever workout and vomit. I've been addicted to the show since the first season, and last season, I drug my husband along with me. The first few seasons were pretty inspirational, but now, we are getting dangerously close to circus side show territory.

500+pound contestants! 400+ pound TWINS! A guy with Sideshow Bob hair! By the way, that was the dude complaining that he has never known love. I don't think it's the weight. I'd look into Supercuts.

Now, the reason we eat dinner while watching this show is because I have aerobics on Tuesday nights. I have just enough time to get home, shower, and grab my dinner before the fun starts. So I have just spent an hour sweating with the best of them. I feel this adds to my compassion, or at least gives me an excuse to disparage the weaker contestants. The group this season....yeesh. The venous stasis ulcers, the abdominal pannus (panni?) the complete inability to do a freaking PUSH UP. The VOMITING. It totally ruined my appetite for my Twix bar. No lie. Hey, don't look at me like that. I just finished working out. And I RUN. And I rarely cry while working out.

One more thought on the female contestants, and this comes from the heart. Where the HELL do they find those sports bras. They make every woman have a uniboob. All of them. Some of them have under boobage. Now I have seen these women (in earlier seasons) and some of them have pretty nice racks. They make attractive sports bras. Producers, they are already bearing their souls, and abdomens. Can you find them a nice sports bra? Please? And then give some to the men?

love you, mean it.

Lemur Queen

Biggest Loser Season Nine: Festively Plump and then some.

Yeah, New Years Resolutions to you all! So me and the Mrs were watchin' TV tonight, and the season premire of Biggest Loser 9 was on. You all know Biggest Loser, the show where the fat people come on, get yelled at by annoying skinny people, cry a LOT and try to loose some tonnage? Yeah, last season was supposedly "The Biggest Group Ever!". Well, they broke the cattle car this time. They had a guy on there that was 500+ pounds. That is TWO of me. Two Fat Rocks. Dizzam! And of course, there was much screaming and crying. I hate it when the fatties cry. When I started exercizing, I was around 275. I had people who screamed at me, and when they did, I just shut down. You know got the most out of me? People who offered quiet encouragement.

But Bob and Jillian can't get good rating unless they have fat people crying, so it's SCREAM TIME!

In all seriousness, have you seen some of the crybabies they have on this year? Good grief. I could hardy stand the blubbering and crying about how weight was the only factor in defining happiness in their lives. Some guy came up and said "oh, I've never had a girlfriend/never been kissed" and all I wanted to do was buy him a hooker or something. I mean hell, when I was heavier I was still happy. Some girl said "oh, I've never had a boyfriend, and I'm 30!" So what? Are you an utter and complete failure because you haven't had a man? Have you tried lowering your standards some, or maybe put out? Perhaps not screaming "BRING ME SOLO AND THE WOOKIE" during dates might make men/women (for the fat guys) want to stick around.

And what's with the epic sounding music when you're walking to the weigh-in? What is so daunting about that scale that you require epic Braveheart/Gladiator/Platoon-esque music to go with it. You aren't exactly Band of Brothers, marching into Bastone. Neither are you Spartans at Thermopylae, nor even the Charge of the Light Brigade. You are fat people, waddling up to a scale. Crap on a stick.

My wife is home!

Huzzah!





So, Lemur Queen spent a few extra days with her parents past Christmas. I went home, worked, and took care of the house while she was gone. Well, I tried to. Dog was underfed at the Kennel while we were gone, and he was wild. We left the house in quite a mess because of our Christmas prep, oh and my mother invited herself to my house for a day and a half. No biggie. But it takes away from my ability to clean the house. And I got sick. Not helpfull to clean when I have boogers flying out of my nose at odd intervals. And my wife came home a few hours earlier than I thought she was. So her and he in-laws I was trying to impress came home to a scene like this:





Yeah, something like that. The dog was wild, laundry everywhere (because I was in the middle of doing it all), and bits of Christmas everywhere. I had never seen my father-in-law move that fast. Wife unloaded and he just about spun tires to get away. 20 mins later everything was pulled together, wife and dog were calm, and house was order. Oh well, next time they come I'll have the place clean.

The Holidays Are OVER!!!!

It's time for YOU and your screaming badly behaved children to go the hell home. Or, it's time for my ass to GO HOME. OR to a bar. Either way. Can you tell what kind of Christmas me and Lemur Queen had? I know I love hearing stories about 50 times of what happens when you feed donkeys raisins on the farm during WWII (hint: they FART!). Also, it's nice the know that my grandmother love the delinquent in the family who lived at home untill he's 28 and never got a full time job and mooches constantly more than me. You know, the one who went to college, got a job, and got married. "You should be more like CHAD!" Chad? Chad who just asked me for $20 so he could get groceries Chad? Yeah, that's what I want.

Effective Birth Control

Fat Rock, still sober. 3 Days! Woot! So, anyways, I'm a member of a kind of social club. We meet up a couple times a week, exercise, and go home. Every once in a while, maybe twice a year, we try to get the whole group together, have a potluck, and "mingle" because we're "like a family". Yeah, so a ton of people have Kids. Lemur Queen and I do not. We want some, and recently LQ has been jonesing for some rugrats pretty bad. Untill tonight. Tonight she was stuck in a place where she knew no one, had to make small talk, and had to dodge about 25 kids ages 2-12. Screaming kids. Crying Kids. Hyper Kids. Kids who had too much sugar. And she looks at them all, with the adults desperately trying to quiet them and says, "Eh, I can wait a little while before THAT hits us".

Weekend Before Christmas at the Post Office.

Fat Rock, back for a second before I have a two month lapse in posting. Today I enjoyed the usual "Oh Crap That Has To Be Mailed to Grandma!" moment that almost all Americans do, unless you happen to be my father. Major Rock has a mind like a steel trap rimmed with barbed fish hooks. Never forgets anything. Never Procrastinates. Never Rushes, because he has everything all planned out. So my wife and I got our Christmas Present from the Major, and realize we have less than a week to get something mailed to Florida for the Rock Christmas.

So we box up the stuff, and hit the post office. Along with about half the rest of the city. But we beat them into the Post Office, by 5 minutes. So we waited in line, talked about why boys never join ballet troupes (DUH!?!?!) and the Nutcracker Suite. And watched the idiots behind us in line try to be sly and jockey ahead of each other. Seriously, don't walk in with an armload of packages and try to move ahead of everybody else to "just set them on the counter untill it's your turn" We all know what you're doing. Similarly, old people: stop trying to act like you can't hear people tell you there's a line. Stop acting like you can't SEE the line of 20 people and shuffle past it. You are old. You are retired. Your only activity during the day is to dodge a coffin. You can wait in line like the rest of us.

But This post isn't to rant about idiots. Well, maybe a little. Like the Mighty Tanya of yore, an unknown USPS employee actually CALLED THE BREAK ROOM, and yelled at the people there to "get out and help someone". I couldn't believe it! A few minutes later a very grumpy woman cmae up and opened another clerk station, but we were SHOCKED! A responsive USPS! Amazing!


Fat Rock.