cheeseburger in paradise.

I have a shopping problem. Actually, the only problem is that I want more things than my bank account will afford. First world problems, eh?

(PS - there's a gross nasty fucker in my lobby right at this very moment who clearly has never been taught that eating with one's mouth open is BAD FUCKIN MANNERS. Gross. GROSS.)

I've been worn out on shopping lately, mostly due to the fact that I've turned over my wardrobe three times in the last year (seriously). I am tired of buying clothes. I'm tired of having to take three sizes of the same item to dressing rooms with me just to figure out what size I am now. I hate clothes, so I've just decided to let my current wardrobe drape, however unsightly, until absolutely nothing stays on my body without the use of duct tape and bungee cords. Sure, I'll be a hot mess, but it'll save me MANY trips to the mall and muchos buckos in my wallet.

(PS - the nasty donut-eating fucker I mentioned earlier... just tried to convince me of the goodness of Our Great Lord Jesus Christ. Umm... go away.)

Donuts are gross. Also, I should probably mention that I don't eat chocolate... because chocolate is gross.

I hate clothes, but my shopping habit remains. I have this nervous energy that doesn't go away until I get a package in the mail or I score a good deal at my favorite store (most psychologists would be screaming ADDICTION at this... and they're probably right). I tried indulging my frivolity by shopping for shoes, but I'm unsure as to which Five Fingers I want next (Komodosport LS? Speed? Treksport?). I even flirted with the idea of getting normal shoes (but still à la Vibram) with the New Balance Minimus (when I wore normal shoes, New Balance was probably the most comfortable least problematic of all brands I tried). eBay even has them on sale for $60 no tax free shipping, but they're the freaking Minimus20 and I would only possibly consider the MinimusZERO, though not at full price.

My shoe shopping a bust, I turned my sights onto other things: Dri Fit gear for the boyfriend. He's absolutely in love with his Iowa Hawkeyes Dri Fit shirts by Nike, but he only has two. We're planning on going to the University's official athletic outlet when it opens this weekend, but I feel bad that he has to have all his workout gear in black and gold when I know that deep down he'd rather be sporting blue and white (here's a joke for you: What's a Nittany Lion? DEAD. BAHAHAHA... fuck you, Penn State). Alas, my exhaustive Google searches did not yield any of his favorite sports teams in Dri Fit items in his size. FOILED AGAIN!

So now I face the arduous task of coming up with something else I can blow my money on. Ugh, I hate having everything I need, I lack the creativity necessary for such a shopping problem. FML.

In other news...

Boyfriend is insisting that we consistently go to the gym at night. As in 9:30 PM. He had the most child-like fit last night when I tried suggesting we go at a more appropriate time, say... 5:30pm. He's absolutely convinced that 9:30 is the perfect time to exercise because it gives him a few hours to "relax." Let me tell you all the reasons that 9:30 is a horrible time:

Firstly, no. No no no no no. By 9:30, I want to sleep. Waiting until 9:30 means there's an extraordinarily high chance that 1) I'll already be asleep or 2) I won't have any motivation to go.

Secondly, no matter how hard I/we try, we always end up having dinner late(ish). As much as I would love to have dinner waiting for my love when he comes home from work, no... scratch that. Fuck that noise. I work more hours a week than he does. I make more money, have more commitments, and still I find time to clean house, do the laundry, tend a garden, and maintain several hobbies. That lazy bastard can cook for himself or wait for me to cook as it fits my schedule. Which means we usually eat late.

I made the mistake of following him to the gym last night even though I knew I should have gone on my own earlier in the day. My run, in short: IT WAS HORRIBLE. I spent the entire time choking down burps of vomit and worrying that my bowels were on the brink of doing unspeakable things. I cut my run short and spent the rest of our dedicated gym time suffering it out on the highest setting on the crossramp. Post-dinner exercising is ALWAYS bad. Always.

Thirdly, the timing/sleep factor is too huge for me to ignore. So we go to the gym at 9:30. Boyfriend exercises for 35 minutes, plus 5 minutes of dawdling, for a total of 40 minutes. Then I run the 20 minutes back home. In case you're not keeping track, it's now 10:30 pm. If I immediately jump in the shower and take the bare minimum amount of time to ready myself for sleep, I don't hit the sheets until 11pm (keep in mind, I have a 5:30am wake-up for work). At BEST, I'm getting 6.5 hours of sleep. At. Best. That doesn't take into account the fact that there's only one shower in our apartment and I'm almost always having to fight boyfriend for the first turn, nor does it consider the jump in energy one experiences after an intense workout. Last night, I didn't see sleep until 2am. I barely got a nap before my alarm went off, and now it's 10am and I'm seriously contemplating a second cup of coffee.

This isn't good for my health.

I'm concerned that I'll slip into old habits and have to beg my fatter friends to give me my fat clothes back. My ass looks great in a size 14 dress, but that hamburger looks so damn delicious.