Unending Bud Lights. Check. Hurricanes with massive amounts of SoCo and vodka, with only a splash of the stuff that makes the drink red. Check More Cajun food and nachos and Diet Cokes than I thought could fit in my gullet. Check.

My gluttonous ways have me sufficiently grossed out and wanting a serious detox.

I was trying to think of something to give up for Lent, but the list of what I need to give up is so long that it seems nearly pointless to give up only one measly thing.

I’ve decided that I need to adopt a very generic Lenten sacrifice and just stop all of the shit that’s wearing me down. If it takes 21 days to form new habits, my 40 days of Lent should suffice.

In other news, it’s 40 degrees here, and I’m already noticing a spring in my step. I’m sure Mama Nature will throw some more face-biting snow at me once I do something silly like send my heavy jacket to the cleaners, but I’m happy for now.

After weeks of sub-zero wind chill and a frosty weekend spent in the streets of St. Louis celebrating Mardi Gras, my bones need some defrosting. If I didn’t have a bunch of vacations planned for the upcoming months to burn through my vacation hours (or a belly full of nachos and Diet Coke), I’d be inclined to take time off to go run this afternoon.

My marathon in DFW is quickly approaching, and I feel like such a bum. Sure, just one week ago I spent 3 hours on the treadmill without issue... But I feel like crap this week after all of the recent abuse my body’s been through. Add to it that I’m recovering from a death rattle cough, and I’m quite the pathetic piece lately.

I’m itching to get back on with things and was looking forward to it this morning, but I made a quick trip outside yesterday in some new shoes and tore up the backs of my feet. I’ve got bandaids on them, and there’s not much else I can do. I might not be able to run tonight at the gym, but I will most definitely be lifting weights.

Every few months or so I dig out a bikini and take some photos for later comparison. This is always initially done as a way to measure my workout gains, but I really and truly don’t see any changes most of the time. This time, though, I took some drastic measures. I went into my bathroom, where the lights there are 100% non-forgiving, and took a booty pic.

And now, before I start getting go-hug-yourself-and-grow-some-self-esteem or go-fuck-yourself-you-skinny-bitch messages or emails, just trust me on this. I’m not being some delusional twit. This is a particular body part that needs improvement, and I just wanted to get a true assessment of the situation.

Can you say ewww?

It seems that I’m not the only one starting a health kick. A couple of guys at work have started getting Jamba Juice smoothies every few days. Sure, it beats the Chinese food they would typically get, but a 650-calorie smoothie isn’t exactly a diet food.

In completely unrelated news, looking at pictures from the past weekend, I think my hair is officially too dark. Since I do the dye jobs myself, I put the color all-over, making the ends darker and darker. I don’t really care enough to go to a professional for a real dye job, but I’m feeling like I’m looking borderline goth.

Once the sun breaks and it gets a little warmish, I’ll go to light brown. But until then I’ll embrace the princess of darkness look I’ve got going on.

And in even more unrelated news, I miss Britney Spears, back when she had the sickest body ever:

G’nite all. It’s nearly 50 out, and I’m gonna run outside for the first time in a long time.