Paris Hilton's declaration that sex is sacred and advertisement of her alleged celibacy got me thinking. My streak of bad luck with men is no joking matter, perhaps this is something I, too, should consider. My friend Miss Kitty is a big fan of Rachel Ray and on her talk show apparently she challenged single women everywhere that are looking for Mr. Right to scrap the looking and go 90 days without. For 90 days, just make yourself happy and do things for you and forget all together about finding a man. Shut the cookie down, so to speak. I think Miss Ray (and ok, Paris) might be on to something so I'm on day 16 of 90 and so far so good. I probably should have started counting on Monday since that's when I cut the cord on quasi-beau but I'm just going from the last time I got some play. TMI? Maybe. But no one's forcing you to read this. I'll keep you posted on my progress.
However, keeping men away doesn't seem like it'll be too much of a problem. In a matter of a month I have managed to gain back almost all of the weight I lost on Weight Watchers for that July wedding. I'd been doing really well since about April but now? No dice. There is no denying it when the 10s start showing the belly overlap and the 12s are looking sharp. I'm not going to delude myself and claim to diet during Christmas, mind you. I'm sitting here sipping on a gingerbread latte from Starbucks as I type this so let's not be silly. After Christmas though? Yeah. It's on like Donkey Kong. Me and the gym in a fight to the death. No more goodies. Blech.
And finally - Calgary Flames 5, Kings 3. Went to the game last night with my brother, the mother of my nephew (ha!) and Eli. Getting the latter 2 out of the house is no small feat so a round of applause goes to the Leos. They have the same birthday. Never mind. Sometimes I wonder if battling the traffic on a weeknight is worth it just to watch the Kings lose. Sonofabitch.
And on that note - 4 more shopping days, people. No joke. Get off your keisters and get your shit done. Happy Hump Day.