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I Speak Pudding.

April 23, 2009

ijaeu0 kljiou oiuo nhiog jg iorjglkvkljfj vlkjrg!

Let me guess. You don’t speak Pudding, do you? I apologize. It’s all I’m capable of speaking at the moment. Here, let me translate it for you..

Jillian Michaels makes Hannibal Lecter look as innocent as a newborn kitten!

I’m on Day 3 of the 30 Day Shred. I hope you’re proud of me – I’m typing this blog post with my nose. It’s the only part of my body that doesn’t hurt.

Does anyone else look in Jillian’s eyes during the 30 Day Shred and see that red flash of evil? I do.

And does Anita’s abs scare the fuck out of you too? Call me sexist, but a that tight of a six pack only looks good on men. Every time I look at her abs I think of carving up a meaty rack of baby back ribs.

Mmmm…baby back ribs.

I haven’t had any chocolate in 24 hours. I started walking to the pantry to steal more of Blake’s Easter candy, but as I did, I passed the fruit basket and (brace yourself!) snagged an orange instead. I believe that’s what they call “smart choices”, but knowing that I’m forced to make those kind of choices makes my ass want to suck a sour lemon, if, you know, I could actually utilize my ass muscles without shrieking from the pain.

Shouldn’t choosing a 30-year fixed mortgage and weather-appropriate clothing for my children each morning fulfill my obiligation of “smart choices”?

Shit, being an adult sucks sometimes.

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