Tuesday, February 24, 2009
There's Less of Me
To go around, that is. As of this morning, a mere seven weeks into our P90X regime, I'm down 15.6 lbs, standing at 204.2 (started at 219.8 for you math whizzes).
I'm not sure the last time I was this low, but it's been a few years, to be sure. And the last time I was under 200 was probably in early 2004, a few months after I hit my low of 181.
Of course, I was 140 at this height when I graduated high school so I'm still 60+ lbs heavier than back then. Yikes.
Anyway, I'm less than ten pounds away from my goal weight of 195.
Gotta stay focused.
I'm not sure the last time I was this low, but it's been a few years, to be sure. And the last time I was under 200 was probably in early 2004, a few months after I hit my low of 181.
Of course, I was 140 at this height when I graduated high school so I'm still 60+ lbs heavier than back then. Yikes.
Anyway, I'm less than ten pounds away from my goal weight of 195.
Gotta stay focused.
Friday, February 20, 2009
Less Fat
First off, my apologies -- again -- for becoming that guy. The guy who updates his blog once a month and expects people to give a rat's ass about it. I used to literally write 3-5 times a week, minimum. Oh well.
In the two years since I switched my site over to Blogger, I've only posted about 125 times. Contrast that to Boiled Sports, where we've collectively put up almost 1200 posts in a similar time frame.... and, well, I guess my point is that I'm still writing -- a lot. Just not for those three of you who read this one. Sorry.
Anyway, the P90X madness is still going pretty well, actually. We've slacked here and there, but by and large we still work out and we definitely haven't fallen off the wagon when it comes to diet. We eat WAYYYY better than we used to and very rarely veer into the things we shouldn't be eating. Plenty of protein, few carbs, veggies at every meal, nothing fried. Yeah, it's not as fun as eating mozzarella sticks and you can bet your ass I'm going to celebrate eventual success with the program by gorging myself on things I haven't eaten in months, but overall I'm proud of our progress and very happy with how it's going. I don't feel deprived -- I actually feel more healthy and every time I eat a salad instead of a cheeseburger, I'm proud of myself. Because if you know me, you know how little willpower I have when it comes to the "bad" things we're not supposed to eat.
Anyway, we're about 47 days into P90X and this week I was down to 206.4 lbs. I started at 219.8, so that's officially 13.4 lbs down. The goal remains 195 so I'm more than halfway there, with 43 days of the program to go. If nothing else, it's nice to have a wider array of pants choices since almost all of the ones in my closet now fit... you know, rather than just like two pairs.
In the two years since I switched my site over to Blogger, I've only posted about 125 times. Contrast that to Boiled Sports, where we've collectively put up almost 1200 posts in a similar time frame.... and, well, I guess my point is that I'm still writing -- a lot. Just not for those three of you who read this one. Sorry.
Anyway, the P90X madness is still going pretty well, actually. We've slacked here and there, but by and large we still work out and we definitely haven't fallen off the wagon when it comes to diet. We eat WAYYYY better than we used to and very rarely veer into the things we shouldn't be eating. Plenty of protein, few carbs, veggies at every meal, nothing fried. Yeah, it's not as fun as eating mozzarella sticks and you can bet your ass I'm going to celebrate eventual success with the program by gorging myself on things I haven't eaten in months, but overall I'm proud of our progress and very happy with how it's going. I don't feel deprived -- I actually feel more healthy and every time I eat a salad instead of a cheeseburger, I'm proud of myself. Because if you know me, you know how little willpower I have when it comes to the "bad" things we're not supposed to eat.
Anyway, we're about 47 days into P90X and this week I was down to 206.4 lbs. I started at 219.8, so that's officially 13.4 lbs down. The goal remains 195 so I'm more than halfway there, with 43 days of the program to go. If nothing else, it's nice to have a wider array of pants choices since almost all of the ones in my closet now fit... you know, rather than just like two pairs.
Wednesday, January 21, 2009
Over Two Weeks In
We're over two weeks into our 90-day challenge and as of yesterday, I was down to 210.2 lbs from a starting weight of 219.8. So 9.6 lbs in just over two weeks. Not bad, though I do expect that kind of weight loss in these early stages. I'm feeding my body just enough calories to have what it needs and I'm severely limiting carbs and going much higher on protein. This was actually the only weight-loss method that ever worked for me (back when I lost 46 lbs in 2003), but now I've got a wife making sure I actually eat fruits and veggies, too. Oh, and I'm also working out six days a week so that can't hurt, either.
One of my buddies is convinced I won't lose a lot of weight but rather will "move the weight around," meaning I'll bulk up and tone muscle. While I agree with this to a certain extent, I still do have weight to lose -- so I think there will wind up being some medium ground where I would lose more weight with diet and cardio work alone, but since I'm also building muscle it will be somewhere in the middle.
God, this is exciting, isn't it?
One of my buddies is convinced I won't lose a lot of weight but rather will "move the weight around," meaning I'll bulk up and tone muscle. While I agree with this to a certain extent, I still do have weight to lose -- so I think there will wind up being some medium ground where I would lose more weight with diet and cardio work alone, but since I'm also building muscle it will be somewhere in the middle.
God, this is exciting, isn't it?
Labels: fatness, gym, P90X, working out
Sunday, January 04, 2009
You Know I Don't Like Resolutions
Welcome to 2009. If you know me at all, you know I think resolutions are stupid. Yet I seem to have some semblance of them every year. The truth is, though, I just know my fitness and motivation and general patience all are tested in the last couple months of the year and so it's time to start fresh.
This year, the same issues abound. I'm fat, and it's time to do something about it. I joined a gym when we moved down here but once my wife and I started commuting together, I had a convenient excuse not to go in early to the gym. Plus I like food.
So when a couple of our friends here saw tremendous success in getting into the best conditions of their lives via a workout regimin called P90X, a larger group of us decided to do the same. So we all begin the 90-day lifestyle change on Monday, January 5, and it will continue for 90 days. Unless some of us bail out. You work out six days a week in varying workouts, and follow a typically strict but reasonable diet. At the end of the 90 days, for those who stick to it, you'll no doubt look and feel amazing. I'm a believer, having seen what it did for our friends. The question will be sticking to it. But the thing is, none of us are getting any younger and if we think it's hard now, it's nothing compared to how it will be in a few more years.
And so off we go. I'm beginning at 219.8 lbs, so we'll see where we wind up. Updates to come.
This year, the same issues abound. I'm fat, and it's time to do something about it. I joined a gym when we moved down here but once my wife and I started commuting together, I had a convenient excuse not to go in early to the gym. Plus I like food.
So when a couple of our friends here saw tremendous success in getting into the best conditions of their lives via a workout regimin called P90X, a larger group of us decided to do the same. So we all begin the 90-day lifestyle change on Monday, January 5, and it will continue for 90 days. Unless some of us bail out. You work out six days a week in varying workouts, and follow a typically strict but reasonable diet. At the end of the 90 days, for those who stick to it, you'll no doubt look and feel amazing. I'm a believer, having seen what it did for our friends. The question will be sticking to it. But the thing is, none of us are getting any younger and if we think it's hard now, it's nothing compared to how it will be in a few more years.
And so off we go. I'm beginning at 219.8 lbs, so we'll see where we wind up. Updates to come.
Labels: fatness, gym, P90X, working out
Wednesday, May 14, 2008
The Great Veggie Experiment
I'll be 33 years old this year. But anyone who knows me (or has tried to get a nicely-posed photograph out of me) knows that I am more like, well, an infant. Or maybe a misbehaved -- and kind of disproportionately large -- toddler.
Never is this more evident than when my eating habits are called into question. Oh sure, I have a good routine established for most days -- a Kashi peanut butter bar for breakfast, a frozen WW meal for lunch along with some fat free Pringles and WW yogurt, and then whatever happens to be made for dinner by my lovely wife.
But that's the thing. She's getting more confident in the kitchen and she really likes veggies. She has this weird thing where we absolutely must have sides with every meal. If there aren't sides -- or enough sides -- she has mini-freakouts.
"Mmmm, hon, this steak is marinated so well. It's gonna be great."
"I don't know what we're going to do about sides!"
This sort of exchange plays out more than you might think. I don't get it. Who cares what's on your plate as long as you're full at the end? I mean, this is not to say I think you should eat a bowl of potato chips for dinner. Far from it.. I think there needs to be a hearty, main course-ish thing to eat. Such as steak, chicken, fish, sandwiches, pasta, eggs, etc. Whatever. But not without sides. In fact, I think my wife should write a move for the Lifetime Network entitled, Not Without My Sides.
So naturally, this has led to what J will and will not eat. And the "will not" list isn't as lengthy as everyone thinks. But once people think you're "picky" or "fussy," the label never -- never -- goes away. My idiot cousins still think I won't eat meat lasagna because one time when I was a kid I said I preferred cheese lasagna b/c that's what my grandmother (and mother) used to make. I absoultely loved their cheese lasagna and still do. So my mother assumed, in her early-onset dementia, that meant I hated all other lasagna. While I probably made a face about veggie lasagna, I never claimed to not like meat. And she knows this, because whenever she -- or anyone else in a 50 mile radius of my nose -- makes meatballs, I eat as many as possible. Yet a couple years ago, when I was about 30 or so, my cousins came to my parents' house for Christmas and brough two fucking lasagnas. One for everybody except me and one without meat because, "J doesn't eat meat lasagna." The hell?
Anyway, I'm digressing. Point is, people think I'm picky and more picky than I actually am. When in reality, it's simply that I know what I like and I like to have what I like a lot. You know? I'd eat the same five or six meals in rotation every week for the next thirty years if it was allowed. But if you do that, people look at you like you're a four year old who only eats chicken fingers, hot dogs and mac-n-cheese. (Three staples I'm not ashamed to admit I find delicious.)
Okay, digressing again. The whole point of this post was to share the fact that my lovely wife wants to be able to make veggies with dinner on a nightly basis. She loves veggies. Eats them like snacks. She'd eat a box of edimame or frozen green beans as a snack. She's weird. But she's hot, so I let her stay.
Me, I like me a main course and if I have to have a side, I choose a starch. Nice, fattening, carbohydrate-laden starches. Potatoes, rice, pasta. Whatever. Hell, I married an Italian woman, one would think I'd get a bowl of pasta at the start of ever meal followed by some codfish and then a main course of meat. Those Godfather movies were full of shit.
So I agreed, as I have in the past, to eat -- or at least, try -- anything my wife puts in front of me. I want credit for this, because I rarely say, flat-out, no, I'm not eating that. I'll try it or I'll at least tell you I once tried it and don't like it. At that point, you should back off. I'm 215 lbs and I will hurt you if you continue to press your luck. You can only force me to put things in my mouth if you let me put things in your mouth. Which leads us to my wife.
Wait -- well, you know what I meant.
What this agreement meant was that I'd be eating veggies on a semi-regular basis for the first time since my youth when my mother would withhold dessert from me until I choked down some broccoli. I remember the table being cleared and me still sitting there with a few stalks of broccoli or cauliflower or something else equally disgusting. And the Welsh Farms ice cream sitting there in the freezer, like a glorious finish line.
Anyway, I've already been making progress in the past year. I eat salads occasionally now, and that's all due to my wife. The first time my mom saw me eating salad I think she almost fainted. Or maybe she thought I liked salad all along. It's not meat lasagna after all.
So a week or two ago, I had some squash. It was okay, kind of reminded me of a sweet potato. A yellowish sweet potato. And it didn't taste like a sweet potato. But other than that, it was wonderful. I loaded it up with Smart Balance fake-butter and salted it and gobbled it down. It didn't bother me that much so I was pleased with myself. And Watersyne was thrilled also.
Then the next one was green beans. Now, I hate most green veggies. Which, I admit, doesn't leave much. But as I said earlier, I'd eat the same thing every night so this shouldn't be a problem. But my wife doesn't want to eat the same thing all the time and also doesn't want to make me special meals, so I have to branch out. So I ate a half-dozen green beans with dinner one night. I admit, it wasn't a large sampling, but I ate the damn things and my critics should be happy with that.
Then a couple nights ago it was pepper time. I cooked red, yellow and orange sweet peppers on the grill along with shish-ke-bob steaks and away we went. I ate several pieces of each color, not particularly enjoying them but also not vomiting. I felt like I'd done a good job and then Watersyne put the same number of pieces I'd just eaten onto my plate and said I should finish those and she'd be happy. So I did. I love her. What can I say? I'll eat salad, peppers and green beans for her.
And there doesn't even have to be Welsh Farms ice cream waiting for me at the end.
Never is this more evident than when my eating habits are called into question. Oh sure, I have a good routine established for most days -- a Kashi peanut butter bar for breakfast, a frozen WW meal for lunch along with some fat free Pringles and WW yogurt, and then whatever happens to be made for dinner by my lovely wife.
But that's the thing. She's getting more confident in the kitchen and she really likes veggies. She has this weird thing where we absolutely must have sides with every meal. If there aren't sides -- or enough sides -- she has mini-freakouts.
"Mmmm, hon, this steak is marinated so well. It's gonna be great."
"I don't know what we're going to do about sides!"
This sort of exchange plays out more than you might think. I don't get it. Who cares what's on your plate as long as you're full at the end? I mean, this is not to say I think you should eat a bowl of potato chips for dinner. Far from it.. I think there needs to be a hearty, main course-ish thing to eat. Such as steak, chicken, fish, sandwiches, pasta, eggs, etc. Whatever. But not without sides. In fact, I think my wife should write a move for the Lifetime Network entitled, Not Without My Sides.
So naturally, this has led to what J will and will not eat. And the "will not" list isn't as lengthy as everyone thinks. But once people think you're "picky" or "fussy," the label never -- never -- goes away. My idiot cousins still think I won't eat meat lasagna because one time when I was a kid I said I preferred cheese lasagna b/c that's what my grandmother (and mother) used to make. I absoultely loved their cheese lasagna and still do. So my mother assumed, in her early-onset dementia, that meant I hated all other lasagna. While I probably made a face about veggie lasagna, I never claimed to not like meat. And she knows this, because whenever she -- or anyone else in a 50 mile radius of my nose -- makes meatballs, I eat as many as possible. Yet a couple years ago, when I was about 30 or so, my cousins came to my parents' house for Christmas and brough two fucking lasagnas. One for everybody except me and one without meat because, "J doesn't eat meat lasagna." The hell?
Anyway, I'm digressing. Point is, people think I'm picky and more picky than I actually am. When in reality, it's simply that I know what I like and I like to have what I like a lot. You know? I'd eat the same five or six meals in rotation every week for the next thirty years if it was allowed. But if you do that, people look at you like you're a four year old who only eats chicken fingers, hot dogs and mac-n-cheese. (Three staples I'm not ashamed to admit I find delicious.)
Okay, digressing again. The whole point of this post was to share the fact that my lovely wife wants to be able to make veggies with dinner on a nightly basis. She loves veggies. Eats them like snacks. She'd eat a box of edimame or frozen green beans as a snack. She's weird. But she's hot, so I let her stay.
Me, I like me a main course and if I have to have a side, I choose a starch. Nice, fattening, carbohydrate-laden starches. Potatoes, rice, pasta. Whatever. Hell, I married an Italian woman, one would think I'd get a bowl of pasta at the start of ever meal followed by some codfish and then a main course of meat. Those Godfather movies were full of shit.
So I agreed, as I have in the past, to eat -- or at least, try -- anything my wife puts in front of me. I want credit for this, because I rarely say, flat-out, no, I'm not eating that. I'll try it or I'll at least tell you I once tried it and don't like it. At that point, you should back off. I'm 215 lbs and I will hurt you if you continue to press your luck. You can only force me to put things in my mouth if you let me put things in your mouth. Which leads us to my wife.
Wait -- well, you know what I meant.
What this agreement meant was that I'd be eating veggies on a semi-regular basis for the first time since my youth when my mother would withhold dessert from me until I choked down some broccoli. I remember the table being cleared and me still sitting there with a few stalks of broccoli or cauliflower or something else equally disgusting. And the Welsh Farms ice cream sitting there in the freezer, like a glorious finish line.
Anyway, I've already been making progress in the past year. I eat salads occasionally now, and that's all due to my wife. The first time my mom saw me eating salad I think she almost fainted. Or maybe she thought I liked salad all along. It's not meat lasagna after all.
So a week or two ago, I had some squash. It was okay, kind of reminded me of a sweet potato. A yellowish sweet potato. And it didn't taste like a sweet potato. But other than that, it was wonderful. I loaded it up with Smart Balance fake-butter and salted it and gobbled it down. It didn't bother me that much so I was pleased with myself. And Watersyne was thrilled also.
Then the next one was green beans. Now, I hate most green veggies. Which, I admit, doesn't leave much. But as I said earlier, I'd eat the same thing every night so this shouldn't be a problem. But my wife doesn't want to eat the same thing all the time and also doesn't want to make me special meals, so I have to branch out. So I ate a half-dozen green beans with dinner one night. I admit, it wasn't a large sampling, but I ate the damn things and my critics should be happy with that.
Then a couple nights ago it was pepper time. I cooked red, yellow and orange sweet peppers on the grill along with shish-ke-bob steaks and away we went. I ate several pieces of each color, not particularly enjoying them but also not vomiting. I felt like I'd done a good job and then Watersyne put the same number of pieces I'd just eaten onto my plate and said I should finish those and she'd be happy. So I did. I love her. What can I say? I'll eat salad, peppers and green beans for her.
And there doesn't even have to be Welsh Farms ice cream waiting for me at the end.
Labels: fatness, married life, The Great Veggie Experiment
Monday, April 14, 2008
J vs.The Cheese Danish
[J enters office kitchen]
Cheese Danish: Heyyyyy!!! There's my boy! How ya doin'?
J Money: Leave me alone, Cheese Danish. You're not winning today. I just got up here from the gym.
CD: Sure, sure... I understand. Good for you, buddy.
JM: Don't mess with me today, Cheese Danish. I know your tricks.
CD: No, no tricks... Getting some coffee, I see... mmm, you know what goes good with coffee? Me.
JM: Dammit, I knew it. Leave me alone, Cheese Danish!
CD: Ohhh, but we were meant to be together. You and me, fat guy and cheese danish.
JM: Screw you. [pause] You do look delicious, though.
CD: Oh, yeah... and I'm only 70 cents. And I bet the Combos in here that I would get selected first. Come on, buddy... help me out.
JM: You guys bet on who gets eaten first?
CD: Yeah, to pass the time on weekends.
JM: Do you ever bet against the gum?
CD: The gum? Seriously, have you ever seen someone buy chewing gum out of a vending machine like this? Use your f-cking head, J.
JM: Hey, take it easy, you congealed, month-old pastry.
CD: I know, I know... I get a little wound up sometimes... but look at me... I'm deliciously naughty. Just look... come onnnnn... loooook over heeeerre.
JM: I know... the combination of sticky, who-knows-how-old cheese that's been under a light in a dusty vending machine for several weeks is somehow strangely allurring to me... and I just cannot ever figure out why. But no! I went to the gym! The few calories I actually burned will be used up by half of you!
CD: But think how happy you will be as you eat me... you know you want to... fatty.
JM: Grrr. Screw you. I'm getting my coffee and leaving.
CD: No! Wait! Come back! Noooooooooooooo! I miss you! We belong together!
[J leaves room]
CD: Arrrrgh...
CD: Hey, Snickers Bar, you feeling lucky? 2-to-1 I go before breakfast tomorrow.
Cheese Danish: Heyyyyy!!! There's my boy! How ya doin'?
J Money: Leave me alone, Cheese Danish. You're not winning today. I just got up here from the gym.
CD: Sure, sure... I understand. Good for you, buddy.
JM: Don't mess with me today, Cheese Danish. I know your tricks.
CD: No, no tricks... Getting some coffee, I see... mmm, you know what goes good with coffee? Me.
JM: Dammit, I knew it. Leave me alone, Cheese Danish!
CD: Ohhh, but we were meant to be together. You and me, fat guy and cheese danish.
JM: Screw you. [pause] You do look delicious, though.
CD: Oh, yeah... and I'm only 70 cents. And I bet the Combos in here that I would get selected first. Come on, buddy... help me out.
JM: You guys bet on who gets eaten first?
CD: Yeah, to pass the time on weekends.
JM: Do you ever bet against the gum?
CD: The gum? Seriously, have you ever seen someone buy chewing gum out of a vending machine like this? Use your f-cking head, J.
JM: Hey, take it easy, you congealed, month-old pastry.
CD: I know, I know... I get a little wound up sometimes... but look at me... I'm deliciously naughty. Just look... come onnnnn... loooook over heeeerre.
JM: I know... the combination of sticky, who-knows-how-old cheese that's been under a light in a dusty vending machine for several weeks is somehow strangely allurring to me... and I just cannot ever figure out why. But no! I went to the gym! The few calories I actually burned will be used up by half of you!CD: But think how happy you will be as you eat me... you know you want to... fatty.
JM: Grrr. Screw you. I'm getting my coffee and leaving.
CD: No! Wait! Come back! Noooooooooooooo! I miss you! We belong together!
[J leaves room]
CD: Arrrrgh...
CD: Hey, Snickers Bar, you feeling lucky? 2-to-1 I go before breakfast tomorrow.
Labels: fatness
Friday, April 11, 2008
Ode To Fatness
I went back to the gym this morning.
It was the first time I've officially worked out in a gym since I was laughingly preparing for my wedding by going to the gym to be in shape for my Hawaiian honeymoon. What? You didn't realize I did that? You don't remember me going all the time and getting trim and fit and devastatingly handsome to wow the polynesian ladies of Maui?
Yeah, I don't remember it, either. But I'd say it's been roughly a year since a set foot in a gym.
I had to hitch a ride in to work today with a friend of mine here and he goes in at ungodly-early hours to work out at a gym connected to our office building. So I decided I was officially out of excuses and that I should just go with him and work out. Rather than, you know, pretend he was just giving me a ride in and that getting to my desk at 6:45 AM was normal.
I remember the sensation of working out... and it kind of sucks. And I only feel really good about it during the hour or so after I shower and head into the office. I feel energized, I don't feel like a slug and I feel productive and focused. And then, a short time later, my body remembers that I got up at 5:30 in the morning.
I'm certainly not "old" by any means, but a am a decade older than a person I manage... and can a decade make a difference in your ability to do things? Sure. The mind can achieve what the body can concieve? Not necessarily.
I remember pushing myself at the gym back when I actually used to go... maybe 2002 was the last time I went with regularity. And I turned 27 that year. I don't think I necessarily pushed myself real hard this morning, but the sad (very sad) part is that.... well... you know how normally after a hard workout, your body really "feels it" the next day? Well, I felt it by about 11 AM.
My muscles hurt, my legs and arms are achy. I imagine I will need my wife to pull me out of bed tomorrow morning.
I hope to continue with this, though, because, really... being fat is funny sometimes and makes for good jokes when I get together with my co-editors at Boiled Sports... but it's no way to go though life. Dean Wormer told me that.
It was the first time I've officially worked out in a gym since I was laughingly preparing for my wedding by going to the gym to be in shape for my Hawaiian honeymoon. What? You didn't realize I did that? You don't remember me going all the time and getting trim and fit and devastatingly handsome to wow the polynesian ladies of Maui?
Yeah, I don't remember it, either. But I'd say it's been roughly a year since a set foot in a gym.
I had to hitch a ride in to work today with a friend of mine here and he goes in at ungodly-early hours to work out at a gym connected to our office building. So I decided I was officially out of excuses and that I should just go with him and work out. Rather than, you know, pretend he was just giving me a ride in and that getting to my desk at 6:45 AM was normal.
I remember the sensation of working out... and it kind of sucks. And I only feel really good about it during the hour or so after I shower and head into the office. I feel energized, I don't feel like a slug and I feel productive and focused. And then, a short time later, my body remembers that I got up at 5:30 in the morning.
I'm certainly not "old" by any means, but a am a decade older than a person I manage... and can a decade make a difference in your ability to do things? Sure. The mind can achieve what the body can concieve? Not necessarily.
I remember pushing myself at the gym back when I actually used to go... maybe 2002 was the last time I went with regularity. And I turned 27 that year. I don't think I necessarily pushed myself real hard this morning, but the sad (very sad) part is that.... well... you know how normally after a hard workout, your body really "feels it" the next day? Well, I felt it by about 11 AM.
My muscles hurt, my legs and arms are achy. I imagine I will need my wife to pull me out of bed tomorrow morning.
I hope to continue with this, though, because, really... being fat is funny sometimes and makes for good jokes when I get together with my co-editors at Boiled Sports... but it's no way to go though life. Dean Wormer told me that.
Tuesday, August 21, 2007
Somebody Is Effing With Me
Okay, so someone is clearly messing with me and, well, it's quite funny. Though I'm not sure I will really enjoy all the spam mail I'll probably end up with as a result.
A few weeks ago, I got an email from "Culver's ButterBurgers and Frozen Custard" offering me a free value basket with the purchase of... a value basket. Now, I'm not familiar with this establishment, but damn, a ButterBurger washed down by frozen custard quite simply cannot be bad. Especially twice.
The Web site claims it's the "#1 Burger Chain in America," which is also interesting, given that I've never heard of it. But what amused me about this email was that it wasn't just regular old spam. No, somebody signed me up because it had my first name along with my wife's last name -- spelled incorrectly, I might add, helping to lead me towards who the culprit might be (poor spellers are easy to trap).
So then today I get another email -- this one from "Cat Lovers." The body of the email says, "Welcome to Cat Lovers" and gives me a Login ID and temporary password. I'm actually kind of worried about what I might find at a site with security passwords and the words "cat lovers." Yeesh.
Either way, somebody knows how much I like cats and decided to add this to my list of places. Which is fine. Because I will find you. And you really will wish you'd stopped this sillyness after signing me up for Culver's.
A few weeks ago, I got an email from "Culver's ButterBurgers and Frozen Custard" offering me a free value basket with the purchase of... a value basket. Now, I'm not familiar with this establishment, but damn, a ButterBurger washed down by frozen custard quite simply cannot be bad. Especially twice.
The Web site claims it's the "#1 Burger Chain in America," which is also interesting, given that I've never heard of it. But what amused me about this email was that it wasn't just regular old spam. No, somebody signed me up because it had my first name along with my wife's last name -- spelled incorrectly, I might add, helping to lead me towards who the culprit might be (poor spellers are easy to trap).
So then today I get another email -- this one from "Cat Lovers." The body of the email says, "Welcome to Cat Lovers" and gives me a Login ID and temporary password. I'm actually kind of worried about what I might find at a site with security passwords and the words "cat lovers." Yeesh.
Either way, somebody knows how much I like cats and decided to add this to my list of places. Which is fine. Because I will find you. And you really will wish you'd stopped this sillyness after signing me up for Culver's.
Labels: burgers are yummy, Culver's, fatness
