I'm home. Home Sweet Home. Where the love is. Actually where is the love? That b***h of a scale is tripping again. You must have told it that I was with another scale when I was in Vegas. More and more I'm getting the feeling that you are telling the world my secrets. You son of a birch. Get it? F*** you're dumb. Birch is a tree and you're made out of paper which comes from tree pulp. I'm gonna beat your silly a** to a pulp if you don't shut the f*** up. Huh? I don't care if you're not happy about that. Hell, I can't say that I'm happy about the number that came up on the scale. And since I'm sure I did right by the food yesterday, I'm calling foul. If I go close to that b***h a** scale right now it'll actually be a flagrant foul and I'm pretty sure I'll get kicked out of the game. Might be worth it though. I have some theories as to why the number rose, but I can't be sure. So I'm gonna start keeping track of another number to validate my thoughts and hopefully have me feeling better when there is a slight uptick in the weight column. I'm watching my body fat now too. I had to make sure the settings were right on the scale. The kids start playing with it and it tells me I'm a 6'2" woman. Look, here a**hole. I do not cross dress.
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| Nice try a**hole. That is not me. |
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