8/8/8

Yes, tis that today. And yes, did do that yesterday. Our company graciously hosted “The Biggest Loser” contest.. “We’ll measure percentage of weight lost so we will keep your weight in confidence… $100 to the winner after three months, $200 to the winner after six months.”

All I did was pretty much cut out red meat and junk. I’m a peanut fanatic, so I guess that’s where I’ve been getting my protein. I ate a lotta chicken, and a lotta salads - and ya know what? They are good.

I went from 213 to 192 for the first cha-ching, and stayed status quo the final three months which brought in $200 buckaroos.

More importantly, our new HR lady also organized a Health Screening day, and onea my best buds at work discovered he had extremely high cholesterol levels - and in the five months since, he’s been put on meds and has it under contol. Way, way cool, cause it never woulda happened without this lady organizing the Health Fair.

But Victor, I’ve been reading this blog awhile, and it seems like you “go runnin’ wit your HS cronies a lot. Yeah?”

Yeah, that’s true. And probably too much. I love them, but admittedly it’s a situational kinda thing that will one day be blindsided by a relationship. I know this to be true, not because “The View” happened - but moreso because if the right one doesn’t find me (he’s hella shy) then I’ll simply tackle someone and force them to like me! Jk.

8/8/8. Summer Olympics begin. Terrorist threats. Pollution in the air. Chiefs won a game for the first time in 9 tries. Royals back at it tonight at the K. It’s Friday, Life, it ain’t bad.

After the final weigh in, I celebrated with breakfast (for lunch) at onea my favorite mom and pop places. Yes, two big ole patties of sausage. Then, last night, a “on sale for $5 during happy hour” a single topping (pepperoni) pizza. I 8-8-8 on 8/7. Eh, why not glutton out?

My eating habits, I think, are changed for a lifetime. I feel better, people tell me “eat a cheeseburger or something Victor wouldya” which, to me is better than “Victor, did you eat two cheeseburgers?”

My “done-laps” now only gently touch the waistline of my slacks - where before, it was pure denial (“I’ll be GD [gosh darn] if I’m gonna give in, toss these 36’s and git me some 38’s.)

For boohoogety sakes these even helped me playing softball. The bastards put the fastest turd on the team right behind me in the batting order, and had I not dropped a few pounds, I just know he woulda lapped me on the base paths..

Victor, this is all pretty boring. It’s “all about you.”

I rectom. But deep down, ain’t that kinda life? The “you”, or in this case “me”, treasures looking out and seeing “you.”. I do perhaps hog the scene here, but if it weren’t for the “you’s” in my life, it’d be hella empty.

You, the HR lady who organized. You, the softball dude who said “wanna play Vic?” You, my friend who now has fine, just fine cholesterol levels. You, my HS cronies. You, the Chiefs, the Royals, the Olympian athletes. You, my bosses. You, my coworkers. You, my family. You, if there’s anyone here reading.

Life… mine, yours… IS all about “me”, which logically lends “that means you” (too).

So…….. Sorry (I guess) to “Rooster out” on ya. Time to go now. Gotta bathe. Jump in the HRL, go gets me some $3.86 gas. Bag’a peanuts. Smokes (I know, I know).. Coffee. , 36-INCH jean shorts fittin’ all nicely, and another (This one’s blue, same color as my eyeballs) Thrift Store treasure shirt.

I hope you love “me” (meaning you/yourself.) Sometimes I don’t like me, but I’ll always love me. It’s kinda like I’m related to myself I guess! Oh, and I’m the baby gotta love me!

Until the day I pee my size 36” pants and forget name, love Victurd. The Biggest Loser.