September 1st, 2004

I Will Not Defame New Orleans.

I’m Not A Hottie…

…but I play one on TV.

Right. So. The night of Clifford’s housewarming, I tried on not one, not nine, but three pairs of pants — none of which fit me any more.

I’m too cheap and lazy to buy a new wardrobe, and frankly, I like the one I have, so I decided to alter my shape instead. Which means nothing but Ø-fat salads and air-popped popcorn for the next few months, and a rather harsh (for me) three-day-a-week gym commitment.

Today was Make The Marquis A Hottie day. I got me my hair did this mornin’. I chose the same faaaaabulous hairdresser as changingthesky because she always looks so fancy!
Jonathan: “So what are we doing today?”
Marquis: “Make me look like Joe Dallesandro in 1968.”
Jonathan: “Who? When?”
Marquis: “I feared as much. Here,” I said, handing him this picture. “Make me 25 and hot. Minus the headband.”
An hour and twenty minutes later, I sho nuff looked like Joe.

Then I went to the gym and pounded various parts of my body very much thank you, still not quite understanding why people actually like going to the gym, but those pants aren’t gonna expand to fit me, so I’m the one who has to change.

Came home and had my Very Boring Salad, which is anything but boring*, but after a week of them, you really start eyeing those pizza adverts with keener appreciation.

Anyway, to preemtively quote Jennifer Saunders, “I am thin! And! Gorgeous!”

(Though geekwitch’s green snakeskin pants say otherwise.)


* Salad = spinach, sproingy weedy things, hearts of palm, baby corn, beets, cucumber, fresh roast turkey breast, hardboiled egg, oregano, crushed red, black, green and white pepper, no-fat dressing and brewer's yeast for wow, zing and pizzazz.