So I feel fat and cold. Welcome to Winnipeg. But we'll get to that in a minute.
|Strangely, everyone in Barbados actually wears this year-round.|
Back to me being fat now. Every year at Christmas I come home with a mentality of: "Hey, I've been away from Mom's cookin' for awhile, so I deserve to treat myself just a little bit." Then I gain some weight, kick myself in the ass, eat a little less and exercise a little more. Not so this year. This year I have the above mentality, dangerously mixed with, "Fuck it, when's the next time I'm going to be in North America? Nom nom nom nom nom." Exercise is not happening. You know what is happening? Beer. Scotch. Chocolate. Popcorn. Milk. Seafood. More Chocolate. In no particular order and usually cooked in a pile of butter. And so I grow larger.
It is also, as mentioned above, very cold here, but that's a given. Denise is coming soon (oh hey, if you haven't read the post below, I suckered her into agreeing to marry me) and I doubt she'll make it through here alive. Or at least without significant frostbite. Good thing she's a doctor.