Dear Diary,
I've gained weight. I'm sure you'll try to find a way to say that this isn't your fault but it damned sure can't be mine. I spent a week in NYC eating all manner of s**t. Cheesecake, had a steak (actually a steak and a half- the first one they brought me was over cooked. The second was perfection), soul food and a hot dog every time I hit a corner. During that time I gained maybe a pound. I came back home and weighed in at 238 and some change. After little to no weight gain after eating that s**t all over New York, I come home to gain 3 f***ing pounds? In my defense, which technically I should need no defending as this is clearly your fault, I was tired Sunday and Monday I was stuck in an all day meeting with food -- constant food being served all day. It was almost like I was in New York again. Only difference was that I didn't have to walk miles and miles between locat...Huh? I guess all the walking did make a difference, but me not walking yesterday was not my fault. I actually ran a mile in the morning. I would have run more but I didn't have the time. Actually I could run this morning but I'm talking to you. Uh, yeah thats right. I am gonna go, but not before you admit this is all your f***ing fault. Come on. Take some personal responsibility for my life. A**hole.
