yes, I did it again (ooops?)...

that is, I broke the flow of the work rambling into this third segment just to give you time for potty breaks and, well, maybe because I did not want to sit pondering over writing a one thousandth entry here at casa de candoor because pondering such historic records sometimes sticks a cork in the flow and I don't need no stinking corks (semi-Mexican accept optional)...

actually, these last three entries are my attempt, subconscious as it might be, to return to the self-indulgence of rambling on and on about the miniscule details of me, myself, and I... after all, this diary was never intended to be any sort of soapbox for a cause or intelligence, even... my primary intention when I created this diary all those years and entries ago was to continue this journal which stalled a bit and was the public community presense that was intended to continue this journal which had been rambling on the web since 1997, at least, before it was hacked apart by corporate Disney when they bought out the free journal site upon which I was happily rambling and then they proceeded to delete all journals without a word of warning...

oh, the humanity...

in any case, I do care deeply about the world and you, dear readers, but we all need some me time too and I'm taking some of mine... if you'd rather read political rants or social commentary, you'll find some in the last few weeks of entries... seriously though, others do it much better than I do...

for today, this diary is mine, all mine...

and you are more welcome than ever J

now, if you just woke up or have been able to tear yourself away from this world of seemingly endless words on random subjects and irreverent segues, you missed the last three entries which were uploaded just now because I just woke up... I ran out of time for the 911 entry last night and then fell asleep before uploading the three-parter this morning and so we get this sudden four entry upload (which further dilutes the chances for comments, I suppose, which either means I am not as fixated on those little numbers that tell me you had something to say or I am allowing myself to undermine the little numbers so I can justify, in my cleverly perculiar mind, the goose egss, the minimalism, the lack of long wonderful streams of conversation that some people get...

not that I'm jealous or anything...

much

anyway, it's time now for the third part of the three part series that was in actuality one long work ramble... once again, for purists and segue lovers (or at least for those of you who believe you can read deep psychological secrets in the segues), I shall include a few lines from the previous segment...

ready or not, here we go...

...and just before a chorus of "what in the heck is he talking about?" rings through the cyber landscape, let's change the subject...

how fat are you?...

oh dear, did I mention irreverence was a key element in this babbling to know you process we were supposed to have segued out of?... yes, well, have another piece of smoked trout and watch the eclipse... it's really quite bright this time of year...

or let's just move on then...

fat, the subject was fat, or is fat, as the case may be... I see my belly when I look down... that is not good, for it means I have detached enough from this body to not constantly feel the discomfort of over-expanded abdominal muscles... I don't even want to imagine what I am doing to my digestive system or major organs... it's a foolish method of suicide, even if it's so commonly accepted that it's recognized as ok in our culture...

the fact is I am setting myself up for a back ache or injury by letting my abs sag... and all the organs are hanging harder as well (I mean the internal body organs, in case you were going down on me in your mind... not that I'm having any problem hanging harder below the waist, in fact, I still have nocturnal erections during every sleep period, which makes falling asleep in the big green chair a bit of a delicate operation involving remembering to strategically place the pillow used to hold my laptop, but that's beside the point and it's just not where my mind was heading in this thought)...

I am officially fat when I look down and see stomach instead of feet...

fat, for me, is uncomfortable and unhealthy (not to mention very unattractive, so I don't turn myself on at the moment... luckily my libido and imagination look outside of this body for visual stimulus, but again that wasn't where I was intentionally going with this entry... or this part of this entry... an entry is like a body, you know... I'm not sure if we are stuck in the armpit or the crotch, but maybe if we get out of the parentheses we'll find the heart)...

so these days I am officially fat and I am lazy... not at all a satisfying combination for me... I mean, I enjoy being lazy sometimes, but not all the time... and the laziness maybe brought on by the loneliness) is making me fat... did I mention I do not like fat?... yes, I am an evil skinny person in a currently fat body... I shall mock myself mercilessly... I used mercilessly twice in the same entry... three times... I shall be the subject of my own ridicule until I can see my feet again... is that a song?... until I can see my feet again... I won't rest, I won't stop, I will exercise 'till I drop, I won't cop out or give into laziness until I see my feet again...

you remember my imagination, don't you?...

throat clearing sounds... I am serious... even if I do not take this plan seriously, I am serious... I must get a button to wear... it shall read MOCK THIS FAT... I shall pin it to my emerging belly... perhaps a T-Shirt with an arrow pointing down... not too far down, mind you, about belly button level I suppose... I would consider a bumper sticker for my butt, but my butt is not fat... in fact, my butt and legs and arms are rather thin... muscular, but with just an extremely thing layer of epidermal tissue... they've always been that way... it's my dang stomach that won't get with the program... the minute I'm not looking, there it pops out to block my view from my feet... not that I have a foot fetish or anything, at least not for my feet, but that's besides the point too... some people eat a twinkie and find a bulge at their hips or butt or thighs... for me, the twinkie goes nowhere, it just stays right there at my belly... lazy twinkie...

I am not pregnant, it's those dang twinkies I tell ya...

any similarity between the twinkie and the penis is purely accidental...

just in case you wondered...

meanwhile, back to the fat... I am hoping this entry is some sort of motivation for me to stop farting around (did I mention that the expanded belly holds more gas?) and get moving more... sit ups, every morning, fifty, not just ten... yeah, that's right, give that chicken fat back to the chickens (and don't be chicken again)... good grief, I wonder if I could do fifty sit ups... yes, that's the sad truth, I have let my abs deteriorate to the point where I seriously doubt I can do fifty sit ups... in fact, I wonder if I can do ten...

oh, the shame...

no wonder I feel lethargic... don't you know how vital to everything abdominal muscles are?... I used to, but I must have slipped into denial when I wasn't looking...

ric, you ignorant slut...

now before you go getting all defensive on me (too late?)... I am not condemning your fat... if you and your fat are comfortable together, that's fine for you... I might think it's unhealthy and you might agree or disagree, but any fat-raving-rants I might spout out here are directed directly at me... I mention this because I've met a lot of very defensive fat people in my travels through humanity and quite often, in their insecurity, they lash out at someone like me who is not happy being fat... hopefully we can make a deal, I won't point my finger at you, you do as you please... but if you imagine me pointing my finger at you and react to it, you're creating something that is not there and projecting your misunderstanding on to me is a mistake...

now, back to my fat...

when I was a little boy I was a toothpick... I used to do sit ups to get myself tired enough to fall asleep at night... I'd usually lose count after I did a thousand... around this time my grandmother at that time chased me around with an egg on a spoon and a glass of chocolate milk... yes she was well coordinated... I usually gave into the chocolate milk, but it wasn't until she switched to a bagel and cream cheese that I gave into food... some time after starting grade school and learning to sit on my butt for hours every day I first found my tendency for abdominal fat... I paid little attention as my belly grew into the chubby section of the clothing stores... a few years later, when puberty was demanding more female attention, I started running like crazy... and doing sit ups again... eventually I was competing with the sit-up school champion in the several thousand range... my stomach fat disappeared... and my social life got real phat (using the slang there for clever literary something or other)...

it was some years later, after the heartbreak of amy and running away to join the army, that my abdominal laziness resurfaced... while I continued running on and off throughout this lifetime, I have experienced periods wherein just about completely neglected my abdominal muscles... I am in the midst of one of those periods right now... and it sucks... lazy... lethargic... fat...

we shall see if this babbling on about it will provide any motivation to change my current habits and do something about getting my washboard abs back... after all, the difference between a fat old pervert and a sexy older man is often directly linked to the abs... it doesn't matter that they may both be dirty old men, the latter with the washboard is considered much more socially acceptable...

and since when am I concerned about being socially acceptable?...

yeah, well, work with me here... there are many reasons to improve the state of my abs... there's the embarrassing man-breasts that tend to form above sagging abs... and nobody actually wants to remove their shirt to reveal man-breasts, do they?... I live in Florida, after all... home of the beach, the pool, and the shirtless man... I must remember that man-breasts are not appealing to me...

yes, there's better motivation... see, my rather secure and obnoxiously independent personality would rebel against any suggestions that other people's opinions should determine what I do with my life or body... unless I ask you because I respect and trust you, that is... public opinion, on the whole, is fine for the public... but I'm not interested in satisfying the popular...

so if you didn't notice already (or are intent on being put off or offended, in which case never mind), the question title and this entry as aimed directly at me... I figured that opening my mind and pouring out the contents might help you get to know me better, if you decided that you actually did want to get to know me better, and I want you to get to know me better if you decided you want to know me better, but any judgments or standards or opinions statement in this entry are strickly aimed at me...

mostly... I think...

if your sense of humor has been tested beyond it's limits (meaning you find no amusement, I won't assume that you have issues with fat yourself, or even that your fat is in the way, I'll just assume there was no amusement in this entry... for you)...

maybe it's the time of year...

in any case, I sat down at work to ramble and this and the two previous entries are the result... and I obviously, sitting there rambling in public, became more aware of my posture and appearance and yes, belly... so this third part of this entry may have been mostly to my belly...

gurgle...

fascinating, isn't it?

. o O ( NOTES ARE THE NEW HAPPY PILL ) O o .
(just let me know you were here)