Okay, hear me out...

I guess the thing is, that I never really wanted a weight-loss blog...not in so many words, anyway. ("No fear of that happening, since you never really lost weight, Tricia!" -the internet, collectively.) But somehow that's kinda what it became...because I mostly just fell in line doing what I thought what would put me in the loop and get me followers and friends and well, just people reading my blog, in general. If i was writing this for only me, I would just get a journal and not put my embarrassing stories out on the internet for all the world to see. But hey, we all want attention. But it was hard to keep writing knowing that i'd have to include a paragraph about how I fucked up again and ate too much and didn't lose weight and didn't do what I said I was going to do in the previous blogpost. Who wants to report their disappointments week after week? Not me! So I just stopped writing here...for, like, a really long time. Suffice it to say, I did not suddenly get skinny in that time. I am down about 40 pounds from the very first day I started this blog, but...that was like 47 years ago or something (give or take...)

But I kinda wanna go back to why I really REALLY started this blog in the beginning. To write about me. The real me. I don't wanna talk about dieting AT ALL. I don't want to have to report on my weight gain or loss or stalemate. Who cares? It's just a fucking number. My general concern is that people see me as MORE than my excess weight...so why did I spend so much time writing about trying to lose it??

I don't mean this as an insult to people who actually do write about their dietary trials and triumphs. If that works for you, and it helps you, then you should 100% write about it. But...it just never did for me. I've been tempted to totally scrap this blog and just start over again...which is still an option...but for now, it's not necessary. Because it doesn't really matter where i'm writing this stuff. I just need it out of my head and into some written form. So i can go back and read it and reflect on it. I recently spent several workdays very successfully avoiding work to basically read this whole thing again. Over 300 entries. Mostly about bullshit, but some of them were a real punch in the gut. Those were the ones that mattered...and they weren't the ones about how I hated myself for eating carbs. Just sayin'...

Life is still pretty boring, for the most part, but I do have some recent events to write about. Mostly I wanna self-evaluate some weird things that have happened along the way in my life. My awkward childhood, my awkward teen years, my awkward 20s, and obviously, my super awkward 30s. Harsh truths that may make you think less of me, but only if you're a judgey asshole, in which case, SCRAM.

But hey, we'll get to all that later...

In the meantime, here's an email I sent to Dina today when we were discussing the fact that I fall in love with every boy over stupid meaningless things, and...Croatians. T

On Tuesday, May 20, 2014, Patricia wrote:

Well I didn’t live in his dorm or anything so I guess I wasn’t around it enough for it to bother me back then. I used to have lunch with them sometimes though and after he would eat, he would always smoke a cigarette with SUCH satisfaction that it made me wish I wanted to be a smoker. One day I was like “I’ve never seen anyone so satisfied with anything in their entire life as you are right now with that cigarette.” And he was like “she is my love…” and I said “oh, to be a cigarette.” And I felt SUPER WEIRD IMMEDIATELY because at that point I had never told a dude that I was into him or even alluded to it due to my crippling fear of rejection…I never even flirted or anything EVER and it came out of my mouth before I even realized and I felt this weird chill up my spine like I had just committed some crime. He smiled and was like “you don’t have enough evil inside to be mine.” And I was like all blushing and weird. In my head I was like wishing I was the kinda girl that stupid lines like that didn’t work on, but I couldn’t even kid myself into believing it wasn’t like the best and most awkward moment of my life thus far. SAD.

We were always competing against each other grades-wise because we were in the same classes and both had all A’s so far. So in my psychology of business class, the teacher was this cool old dude and he was like “for your final paper, I’m only giving out one 100…and it goes down 5 points from there with only one person for the top 4 grades.” So it was ON between us. So the day he gave our papers back, my teacher was harping on and on about what a great paper the Croatian wrote and like reading all these excerpts and stuff and I was like “dang” but then with like 5 mins left of class, he’s like “oh…but you didn’t get the 100, patricia did. Sorry, hers was just better” Then talked about my paper for a few minutes. I could tell he was SO MAD at first cause of the ol’ bait-n-switch my teacher pulled, but after class he grabbed my hand and kissed it and bowed. I HATE HIM! for being so great and ruining me. 

From: Dina  

First I'm on my phone so I can't write a good reply.  Second, email yourself that.  You need to save that as a blog entry it's great 

Third, you love me because I'm Croatian 

On Tuesday, May 20, 2014, Patricia wrote:

That would be a weird blog. 

Weird blog, indeed.  Later, dudes.

Is this thing on?

Anybody still read this thing? ...been thinking about bringing it back from the dead.

If opposites truly attract, the correct life strategy is to be a loser.

As I mentioned in a slightly earlier post, I've been going out a lot more recently. Recently being about the last 6-7 months or so. One day I just decided that being home sucks, so I started saying YES to literally any invitation I was given...even the weird/crappy ones. It's like I'm the living embodiment of that semi-okay Jim Carrey movie from a couple years ago! (not Cable Guy.)

Going out gives me a certain level of confidence. I feel like it's forcing me out of my depression, even if only for a few hours. But as with everything in my life, there's always someone ever-so-willing to remind me that I'm outta place.

Situation: Saturday night I went to this Nevada Women's Money Conference thing all day for work. Decided to meet up with some friends on Fremont Street (i.e. Old Las Vegas) for drinks. ALL NIGHT, I was having a GREAT time. Seriously...fun conversation, feeling comfortable, laughing my ass off...just a good night, in general. Hours pass. It's roughly 1am and our group of 7 has dwindled down to just me and my friend Erik sitting at the bar talking.

This dude walks up and pushes his way in between us at the bar. I decide to make conversation because he's literally four inches away from my face already, so why not?

Me: That's a good beard, dude. (Side note: I like facial hair a LOT!)
Interrupting Douchebag: (hereby to be referred to as ID, for short!) Thanks. What kinda whiskey should I get?
Me: Um, Maker's Mark.
ID: (to bartender) One Maker's Mark on the rocks.
ID: (to Erik) Why are you drinking PBR? Is it cheap?
Me: It's 4 bucks. But all the other beers are 5 bucks, so I say pay the extra dollar and get what you want.
ID: That makes sense. You should work here, you're good at pushing booze.
Me: Yeah, that's why I sit here. They call me The Closer.
ID: I get it! Like she's pretty, and you're smart!
Me: ....Dang. That's kinda insulting to both of us, don't you think?
ID: Oh. Well, she might be smart...I never talked to her before.
Me: ..........................and??
ID: Did you want a drink or something? (oblivious or just a jerk??)
Me: Uhhhh, no, I think I'm done drinking tonight.
Erik: You may as well take the free drink, the damage is done now.

He was right. So I ordered a $10 shot, downed it, then we left.

I mean, seriously, like I need some jerk with a decent beard to randomly come up and remind me that I'm not all that attractive. Thanks, really.

I KNOW I shouldn't let it bother me. But it's bad enough to have those insecurities, then to have someone confirm it for you is just a real kick in the teeth. I KNOW I shouldn't let the "opinion" of one douchey frat boy ruin an otherwise great night, but JEEZ. Have a little tact, at least.

That kinda stuff makes me remember why I spent so many nights locked in my room making excuses for the few invites I did receive to go out. As I get older, I find myself caring less and less what the world thinks of me. Especially since, in general, I'm not a big fan of most people out there anyway.

Also, that dude can go suck a bag of dicks. The End.

Dad.

It's always hard when someone you love dies.

I think it's way harder when it's someone that you've always had a hard time with.

When my mom died, it was horrible. But we were tight. I knew in my heart that she died fully knowing how I felt about her. It was sudden, and there wasn't time to say anything to her...but I still felt like there was nothing really left unsaid. There was just a security in knowing that she knew.

It wasn't the same with dad. And it was weird because there WAS time, and I DID say what I thought I needed to say to let him know how I felt...but it still feels weirdly unfinished. I think it was more because I never had to prove my love to my mom...I could tell she just knew. My dad and I just never really had that kind of bond. I always told him I loved him and made sure he knew that I wasn't mad at him for the things that I SHOULD have still been mad about. I'm a forgiving person, and I think we all just wanted him to know that it was okay to let go.

But it was still weird when he did.

Valentine's Day. I had to work, but then Jeff took me out for dinner at an Indian restaurant that I really love. We were sitting there discussing our plans for the rest of the night. We were about to land on a movie to go watch, when suddenly he brought up us driving up to Hoover Dam since I've never been there and wanted to do something different. Jeff being spontaneous? I should have known only a death in the family could come next.

My phone rang about 5 minutes after we got our food. It was my sister. Yeah, my sister that NEVER calls me. I had a bad feeling, but I decided to let it go to voicemail because I didn't want to ruin the evening if it was something trivial. Three minutes later, my brother calls. I already knew. There's really only one event at that point that could have possibly brought my brother and sister to the same location. I COULDN'T answer. I couldn't hear the words. I just sat there staring at my phone and Jeff asked what was wrong. I said "something bad" and then the text popped up.

My eyes welled up and I said "my dad's dead. I gotta go home." I grabbed the keys and walked out and got into the car and just started bawling. I thought I was prepared. He had been in the hospital for over a month. Most days when I called him, he was so supersaturated with whatever meds they had him on to manage pain that he couldn't talk...he would mumble something incoherently then trail off. It was like talking to a zombie and it made me cry everytime.

Then one day he seemed okay. He was able to talk and he told me he ate three peaches (his favorite!) and he was very happy about that. We had a nice little chat and I told him I loved him and that I was glad he was feeling better and that I'd talk to him soon. Three days later, he was dead.

My brother said he went to see his specialist the day he died and was told he would need to have even more of his left leg amputated. He says he thinks my dad just gave up because he made his peace, got to spend a little time out in the sunshine, and wasn't willing to endure another painful and damaging amputation surgery. He already had his entire right leg amputated a few months prior and part of the left one a little later. The last time I saw him was December when he was just recovering from the initial amputation and he was already having such a hard time adjusting. He mostly just sat there in and out of a drug-induced sleepy haze. It wasn't the way he wanted to live. He was a cowboy, a rough and tumble dude, his WHOLE life...this wasn't his life anymore, and I understand.

The funeral was hard and frustrating. It cost almost a thousand dollars to get from Las Vegas to Houston with no notice. There's not a lot of sympathy out there in the travel industry. My sister mostly took care of all the arrangements, but it was really hard to get a hold of most of my dad's friends. He didn't have many, and they're not exactly the type of people you can just look up on FaceBook. Most of them don't even have phones! A few showed up. It was quiet and sad and we all had to speak at the wake. I tried to keep it light, commenting on how strangers would come up to me and ask if he was my dad and tell me what a great old dude he was. That actually happened pretty often!

I never knew my dad as a young guy. He was already almost 50 by the time I was born so he was always an old dude to me. He had a unique ability to be forgiven. He had two wives, six kids, and at least ten waitresses he was in love with along the way. He was 79. He was my dad and I hope he knew that I loved him, despite everything.

We were always so hot and cold. I feel like so much of my low self-esteem is a direct result of the way he made me feel about myself. I know he knew that I harboured a bit of resentment, because he told me. We talked about it. He apologized and I forgave him for the most part. So many times in my life I disagreed with his methods, his beliefs, his thoughts...but in some way I think hating all those parts of him made me a more tolerant and accepting person.

It's weird because some days I'll feel like I need to call him when I get home from work. It's a passing thought on the drive home and it takes me a few seconds to realize I can't do that anymore. It's odd when you don't see someone very often and then one day they're gone. It feels like he's still in Texas waiting for me to visit home and drive him to drink iced tea and flirt with waitresses.

I don't know what happens to you after you die. Is there something else? No idea. But if there is, for his sake...I hope there's iced tea.

One of my brother's friends made a drawing of my dad's hands on the day he died.
 His knuckle tattoos always made him seem like a badass in my eyes.

Harry Pooter and Sorcerer's Bone.

Religion is weird.

I guess I started questioning my faith about a decade ago when my mom died. I think I just kinda went with it before then because it mattered a lot to me that she thought I agreed with the stuff she taught me. Then she died, and I felt pretty haunted for the first year or so. Like...maybe some people find comfort in thinking that your loved ones are "looking over you" after they die...but I just find that to be creepy. It was during that time that I convinced myself that I didn't have to believe it anymore because it was better than feeling like I was going crazy with all these dead relatives watching me all the time.

Plus, I always hated church SO MUCH! Like, in some way, I guess I almost envy the way some people accept their faith fully and spend all this time congregating with like-minded people...like, the community aspect of it, I guess. But mostly I think religion is so vain! How do you just accept that what you believe is the right way? THE ONLY WAY? There are so many dang religions...how do you just decide yours is the one that matters and think everyone else is just wasting their time? It's like a dude that always wants a blow job but won't eat pussy. GET OVER YOURSELF. (side note: if god does exist, he probably won't be happy about me comparing his followers to bj-obsessed man sluts, but...ya know.)

I guess if I had to choose a religion, like if someone held a gun to my head and was like CHOOSE ONE (why would this ever happen, btw?), I would probably choose to be Team Jew. For all the wrong reasons, mostly. First of all, because almost all my favorite comedians are jewish, so at least they have a sense of humor. Secondly, because I have a SERIOUS attraction to jewish dudes. I don't know why...I just do. And thirdly, Bar Mitzvahs.

I went to a Bar Mitzvah! My first one! And it was SO FUN! Well, after the boring like reading all the Hebrew stuff and lighting a million candles and stuff. A religious rite of passage that includes a DJ, glow sticks, a photobooth with props (!!!), AND a sundae bar?? Yes, this is something I can certainly get behind! Plus all those dudes walking about with Seth Rogen Disease...yeah, let's do this! Plus, the party was Harry Potter themed! Like, I'm not a fan of the Potters, per se...but I like parties with themes and they really went all out. Aside from all the free stuff and the party atmosphere, I just liked that it didn't take itself too seriously. It made me want that feeling of like belonging to something. Not so much that I'd wanna learn Hebrew or anything, but it made me understand why people want this stuff in their lives.

No booze at bar mitzvahs though, it turns out.

Not that it stopped us from doing something totally innappropriate:

Turns out the family gets a copy of all the photos taken in the booth. That was fun to explain a month later...

Whoops.

Anyway, my point is...I'm FULLY okay with you believing whatever you want. Even the seriously crazy stuff! I don't try to make people feel bad for whatever they do or don't choose to believe. More people should be like me. Let gay people get married...let people have abortions if they want...and don't tell me to wear my stupid seatbelt! It's not your life...so leave it alone. The End.

In other news, they fired the super hot IT guy today. WOE IS ME! Am I the only one who NEEDS someone to crush on at work or else the days just seem unbearable?? He was my Jordan Catalano...sigh. We're gonna go drink after work in mourning for the hot piece of ass we'll probably never see again. LIFE IS AWFUL!

A Near Life Experience.

Man...where to begin?...

It's been a long time, eh? I think about this thing from time to time and miss the camaraderie that came with all the following and commenting and shared joy/misery, etc. Other times I'm like, "man, nothing could get me into the weight loss blogging game again!" All those feelings of defeat because I didn't lose as much as this person, or as fast as that person. Those are my own fault...I know it's not a competition, but it's hard - well, impossible for me - to not compare results and get all bummed out! Plus...all that dieting business is just not what I wanna talk about. I wanna talk about me! My weirdo life.I don't mind talking about being fat, but I hate talking about dieting!

So I think I want a new blog. Plus, I wouldn't mind having a blog that I could actually invite a few of my real life pals to. I would NEVER want any of them to see this one, seeing as how I talked crap about at least a half dozen of them on here somewhere...not to mention the fact that my weight is plastered all over AND I'm pretty sure I talked about my sexy dreams about one of them once. I WOULD DIE. Sure, I talk a big game, but I'm pretty shy when it comes that junk in person. "Sexual thoughts? What are those? Never heard of 'em."

On the downside, I have almost 400 followers on this blog. It would be a tough transition going from like 380 to 3. I'm nothing if not completely dependent on that number for nearly my entire self-worth! Still, I should try to employ the policy of 'quality over quantity' in this situation, regardless of the fact that I don't employ it any other arena of my life like...ever. BUT I SHOULD, is what I'm saying. Alls I'm saying is that three people who actually leave me comments is better than 400 that don't...right? RIGHT!

So you should help me name my new blog. Then you can follow it!...if you're still here, of course. Bear in mind that I really love puns, and that I don't want anything lame. Those are the only two rules except for the obvious rule about not being able to talk about fight club...as always. Also, I especially like puns that involve my name. I was thinking about making some reference to like NuTricia...but that kinda just puts me back in the weight loss category, doesn't it? Defeating the purpose...don't play that game. Here's an idea: Leave me a comment of what you think I should name the new blog, and the best name gets a prize! For free! From me! I dunno what yet...probably something dumb. But what...you're too good for free stuff now?? You've changed, man. I miss the old you.

Man, I have so much to tell you guy(s)! Lots of stuff - good and not good at all - has been happening to and around me. I had an actual life for a couple months...that was fun while it lasted. Now I'm back to blogging, so yeah, figure that one out.

Here's a very abridged list of some of the more notable things have been going on recently:
*Went to L.A. for the first time ever!
*Drove in snow!
*Friended then defriended a gaggle of ex-Mormons!
*A LOT of karaoke-ing!
*A reasonable amount of trivia!
*Saw American Idiot The Musical!
*Saw Cirque de Soleil LOVE!
*My dad died...that sucked. Talk about this later when I'm not busy trying to ditch this blog.
*Got naked and ate a dude's face off!
*Took a tequila tasting class!
*Became pretty much awesome at just taking shots of tequila, even without the class!
*Went to my first Bar Mitzvah! (P.S. Mazel tov!)

One of those isn't true...but I'll never tell!

That's enough for now! This got long. Turns out I'm still rambly. Hey, if you're still around, drop me a line! Tell me which of those weird things on that list you'd wanna hear more about and I'll do my best to accomodate. And don't forget to think of a new blog name so you can win something you don't need and probably don't even want! Feel free to invite your friends to play too! I've been outta the loop too long...you're my only hope. Bye!

Get me offa this crazy thing...

So I lost 4.8 this week, which is pretty good considering I fucked up at least several times, and there was a holiday in there. Mostly I just tried to not go freaking crazy like I was in some competitive eating contest when I got home from work each day and other than that, I was pretty relaxed with the rules. I even had pizza and a cupcake. It had pink glitter on it. EDIBLE GLITTER! What a time to be alive!


That being said, I kinda feel like shit today. My dad's in the hospital because he has pretty close to zero percent bloodflow getting to his feet at this point and he has an infection on one of his toes that his body can't fight off because of the nonflow of blood. So they're going to try to put a stint into one of his lower arteries to see if it helps, but if not, he's definitely facing amputation of some, if not all, of his foot. That fucking sucks. He's already almost 80...I kinda wish he wouldn't have to go through a bunch of painful shit in the years he has left.


I feel bad that I can't be there. Everything costs too much and I can't afford to miss work at all. I just call a lot and hope for the best. I hope he'll be okay.


It's been raining the last three days in Las Vegas. Some lady probably killed her daughter and got away with it, yet I got in trouble for clocking in two minutes late today. And I lost weight. The world is weird right now.