The Vancouver Canucks lost their game against the Chicago Blackhawks last night. They shouldn’t have. It was not the best game I’d ever seen… actually, let me correct that – I never actually saw the game. I don’t do well with playoff hockey. It’s too stressful, and if I make it out of the playoffs with just an ulcer and not an aneurysm, I consider it a good year. Needless to say, after the second goal I couldn’t watch anymore because I’m just way too emotional. I scream, I swear, I cry… there’s a reason why I need to get drunk while watching hockey, people.

We’re having some good friends over tonight for a wee din-din and such. You know what that means, right? Yep, have to clean the house, wash the dogs, and pretend like we live a clean, sanitary, dust-free, dog-hairless, only-people-allowed-on-the-furniture kind of existence. We’ll be doing a lot of acting today. It’s sort of like the domestic version of sucking your gut in as someone really attractive walks by on the beach.

Last night The Cheerleader I Live With and I went for our weekly workout class. We see our trainer alone on Tuesdays, but workout with a class of hers on Thursdays. I had wonked my neck somehow the previous night (we need new pillows), and so was somewhat mangled and useless when I walked into the gym. In order to get me stretching my stupid neck out a bit I needed to warm up, but given that I couldn’t do a whole lot of cardio, I was fairly limited. So my trainer, being the evil, evil woman that she is, put me on the stair stepper thingy (a device which I loathe and avoid at the best of times) for 45 minutes. 45 MINUTES! However, that wasn’t good enough – nooooooooo… not only did I have to step-step-step nearly an hour of my life away, I had to do it in a sweater, AND a freaking parka. A parka!! I am not kidding here, people. Y’see, I needed to be really warm for this stretch, so she had me do cardio while bundled up like Nanook of The North. It was disgusting. It worked, though!

Good thing it’s Zombie Chocolate Jesus day so that I can gorge myself on chocolate and get back all the poundage I lost in Parkaville last night. Maybe I’ll make an effort to eat so much chocolate that I can’t fit into the workout parka again.

Chocolate, and caramel, and nougat (oh, I love nougat!), and fudge, and ice cream, and cake, and pies, and cupcakes, and… and… and… and cookies, and wine, and candy, and… ummm… I think I ran out of things to eat.

It’s a good thing my trainer doesn’t read this blog.

…I hope.