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Wednesday, July 26, 2017

Cake and Hope

Last night Jen, Oni, Hillel and I had a fabola meal of Fratelli’s BRILL ravioli with tomato pesto and Chianti. MMMMMMMMM. Oh yeah and I had a cake pop too. Yes, yez, this was my “free day" – my day off from Diet Hell. One day out of each week, I get to eat fabulously yummy, fattening food and, gustatorily speaking, enjoy the everlovin’ Hell out of myself.

This morning, after totting up last night’s caloric damage, I realized that I need to, mebbe, redefine/scale back my Free Day. Fer instance, it’s OK to have arugula and herbed goat cheese ravs BUT going back for thirds? Not so smart. The cake pop though – YES – it was tremendous and, amazingly, I just had the one.

I think, according to Diet Pros, I’m NOT supposed to feel all crazy bad about the once a week indulgence but…well, last night's bacchanal was big. *sigh* Today I go back to salad and nonfat yogurt. Joy.

We also watched Rogue One again. LOVE this flick!!! Apart from being madly in love with Donnie Yen’s ass-kicking, force believing warrior monk – Chirrut Îmwe and Jiang Wen’s freelance assassin Baze Malbus, Felicity Jones', Jyn Erso helped lift my spirits.

I’m in big fat need of that because, ya see, thanks to John McCain, the Affordable Care Act – the whole reason I’m able to afford the health insurance I absolutely, totes need to stay alive – is now open to being ripped to shreds, as promised, by heartless, greedheaded, corporate prossy Republicans.

McCain, whose health care is top shelf and paid for by us taxpayers, came back from sick leave just so he could vote to strip affordable health care from the rest of us, the taxpayers who pay for HIS  platinum insurance plan.

Jyn Erso’s words are still ringing in my ears, ”We have hope. Rebellions are built on hope.”

Things look painfully bleak. Thanks to Republican gerrymandering, all the hectoring Right Wing shouting heads, a compassionless president whose grasp of reality is completely nonexistent and the plague of greed infecting every last asswipe with an R after his/her name, things ARE painfully, horrifically bleak. I could crawl under the covers, sit and cry – give up and prepare to die. That’s precisely how I felt last night too.

Accepting death. It's easy but it's no fucking fun AT ALL. More bettah – I can stand up, move forward and out like blind Chirrut Îmwe.

I will continue to fight, to hope, to believe that life can be better for all of us – even for those who, like me, aren't bristling with perfect, glowing health or weren't born into gold leafed homes. AND I will continue to encourage everyone else to do so as well. Do you live in a Red State? Call your fucking Senators and Reps, go to town halls, DEMAND those rat bastards have town hall meetings. Make sure these tin-pot hustlers know, beyond doubt, that you vote and so do all your buds. If they sell us out, they will be out of their cushy, taxpayer paid, platinum health care plan gigs.

The Force is with me and I’m one with the Force.


  1. Things look painfully bleak.

    And to think, Trump has been in office only six months. It feels like he's been in office for a decade at least. Great post!

    1. Yes, it really, truly does feel like that!

      Thanks, Beach Bum.