Old Friends.

Right. I must second McCloud’s sentiment that gorging on nachos and extra guac in front of The Trainer is not exactly ideal. For one thing it significantly lessens our credibility when we assure him that we are “definitely eating well” and also “doing lots of cardio.” Oops.

I mean, there’s probably an advantage to him knowing our secrets, because ultimately the skinny jeans don’t lie and neither does my wheezing when I try to support my own body weight. Though realistically, at this point I’d be thrilled if my fat pants fit nicely and I could jog for 60 seconds straight without getting a side ache. 

The working out is coming and going in fits and spurts. What was exceptionally productive last week-crashed, burned and then exploded over the Christmas weekend. I exercised some restraint during holiday festivities with the family, but the real issue came during the weekend after the holiday when we decided to catch up with “old friends” (there were some actual old friends present, but really I think this means we caught up with Jameson and cheap champagne). 

The weather has been GLORIOUS recently, which prompted The Boy and I to start on a trademark “long walk” with an initial stop for brunch someplace. This obviously featured more mimosas than “meal” and McCloud joined us part way through. We finally ousted ourselves from the friendly French Café (sitting outside in the sunshine no less!) and wandered through a few shops en route to our next watering hole (another café come bar where you can drink in the am guilt free..). 

Obviously we continued the mimosa train (though we removed the unnecessary “orange juice” after the first round… wasted space) and stumbled through a few small plates here and there. Fries… meat plate… roasted carrots (read: butter sponges)… cheese boards… and before we knew it we had been there for 6 hours. 

Whoops.

Now, the good news is that we managed to squeeze some high quality socializing between the rounds, but the bad news was that our cocktail waitress found us none too charming even though she was set up for the tip of a lifetime. 

Anyway, we mobilized... in an effort to make it to a different neighborhood hill to see yet another visiting holiday friend, but got distracted by the reopening of an old bar/rock club venue with a distinct amount of curtains and upholstered chairs now filling the windows. Not people to let anything related to food or drink occur in our hood without our knowledge; we obviously popped in to test out the new surroundings... It was cute. Dark, nice furniture, lots of good nooks to hide in with friends, but a distinct presence of “shitty dance music” in the background as well as a strong ratio of gay guys to straight anything. Now, I love me some shitty dance music and I DEFINITELY love me some gay men, but the last 3 bars that have opened within walking distance to the condo have gone gay or gone shitty dance scene, or gone shitty-gay-dance-scene in approximately 1.2 weeks after their opening. So while I enjoy the big bar, exposed brick and nod to an English manor, I’m a little nervous that the new spot might soon become hostile to anyone not gay, not dancing (to shitty music), or both. We shall see.

Anyway, we finally made our way to our destination which was fun. Lots of people, drinks and chatting. And clearly there was plenty of Jameson and Tequila (ouch, really? Was I the asshole that ordered that!??) . After clocking a substantial 13 hours of consumption, The Boy and I dragged ourselves out, leaving McCloud behind (whoops, loss of 10 friend points). Upon entering the cab we hailed, it became obvious that we needed something in our tummies aside from Irish whiskey, so we quickly exited the cab in favor of “Dick’s Drive In” for what are unquestionably the BEST drinking sponges in the world. I typically hold myself to a reasonable ONE deluxe burger, but the boy grabs two and I added an extra fry before we repositioned ourselves back in a second cab.

Realistically, a burger at 1:30am is not the brightest contribution to my waistline, but the silver lining is that it ALWAYS prevents a hangover, and seeing as how McCloud did not join us on our hamburger adventure (loss of another 20 friend points.. ALWAYS feed drunken friends burgers. Always), she was less than thrilled to see me as we headed to see The Trainer the next morning.. But we survived, and shortly after we enjoyed the delicious, delicious nachos.

In typing all of this, I feel even grosser about my decisions this weekend, but all of them were fun, entertaining and most importantly DELICIOUS.

Hopefully this week sees a little more restraint, but as I look at my calendar and a scheduled trip up to the Cabin looming for the long weekend, I doubt I’ll see much in the way of good decisions OR restraint as we head into the new year. 

I guess that’s why I’ll be getting my ass handed to me by Trainer man every day between now and then. It’s one of those masochistic efforts that makes me think that the Catholic Church and I might get along better than I think.

Buuuuut, I’m not going to be exploring THAT little road anytime soon.