Deep Thoughts on Being Half-Assed.

My wife insists this is a good idea. When the wheels come off and the killing starts you know who to blame.

I'm bringing various systems online for the umgajillionth time and wondering just exactly why I bother but I do - go figure. Myfitnesspal informs me that my weight has remained the same since I last bothered to weigh in last November 12th. I could take my blood pressure but I forgot my iPad which is the keeper of the blood pressure diary and I impulse bought this MOVband thingy and now in the harsh morning light of my monitor I'm wondering why.

So, I've got this blog where I poor my angst into it like a teenage girl, myfitnesspal where I monitor my calories, neck size and mass, along with plugging in my workout info (I'm burrito1 by the way - incase you want to log in and see that I haven't done anything for awhile). And although I can see the point of it if you're a believer I find it vaguely narcissistic but that's probably because I'm dealing with lactic acid and I'm grumpy.

My boss is the definition of how this myfitnesspal is suppose to work - this thing called discipline or something - but I'm watching him shed pounds and it's almost inspirational - then I remember how he likes to listen to his employees weeping on his iPod ("It's soothing") and I focus on other things.

It took awhile last night to get the commuter bike online, new batteries for the bike computer and charging up the Garmin so it could track my cadence and HR - all this monitoring for a 3.1 mile ride but it's part of the ritual. When I get home tonight I'll upload the data to another site that will record my incredible trek.

Tomorrow there will be no bike ride - I have to go to a physical therapist for my partially ruptured achilles tendon (my boss tenderly commented, "Why do you have to do everything half-assed?!").

Half-assedness is an increasing problem in our society. Even sissies are phoning it in now. I mean REALLY?! Lingerie firm launches women’s underwear for men. I'm certain not to get beat up (well, cruelly mocked anyway) when I explain to the guys (and ladies) at the gym that "These panties are for MEN! Gosh darn it!!!" while stomping my foot for emphasis. I mean how do you un-see something like that? Don't look at me, go back to the top of this post for 'who to blame.'

I can't leave you with that - here - this will help!

#caring