So it’s May… basically June at this point, with just days to go until Labor Day or Memorial Day or whatever the name of this summer bookend traffic nightmare of a weekend is called. In a past life (that ended a mere 2 months ago), I’d be preparing for a big family weekend somewhere with the Kernan clan or the clan I had been associated with by way of significant other. I’m not sure if it’s the fact that February has lasted until Labor Day this year or that Hudson and I will be spending whatchamacallit weekend in NYC, but this week has been a bit rough.
Apparently, though, the rain ends today and the sun will come out tomorrow. With the hope of imbuing this blog post with more positivity, we wont get into my hatred of that song. I digress. Given the unexpected turn of life events (that if you’ve read any of my previous posts, you know I’ve been complaining about virtually since this blog’s inception) I find myself with a summer virtually void of plans. Since the days of a share-house in the slamptons are over and with a brief lull in my extremely rigorous wedding schedule, I’ve got a blank canvas to fill and a three-legged dog to entertain (not really, more like 3.8 legged dog at this point).
So with the hope that publishing the following will actually ensure I follow through, here are some of the things I hope to accomplish/get back into/do with my 2018 Summer of (please baby Jesus) Sun. We’ll start with the usual get back in shape/hop back on some kind of dietary regimen that doesn’t involve Chirping Chicken after 10 pm 3 nights a week. Briefly, I’ll discuss my high hopes of cultural exposure – as in doing something other than walking ole hop-along, working, and cleaning my apartment. And, likely I’ll spend a paragraph or two complaining and/or declaring myself rid of the sarcastic vinegar coursing through my veins (while proofreading, as I circle back here, you can expect the same sarcastic piss and vinegar infused cocktail of words henceforth, I’ll be a better, sunnier version of myself another day).
To finish, perhaps some stuff I’m looking forward to this year: no, not a trip to Africa (last year everyone was hitting the Amalfi Coast, this year safaris in Africa seem to be in vogue… is there like a secret adulty cult that designates an outrageously amazing location as the “it” place each summer??) – just kidding, hope you’re trip is great Juls and can’t wait to hear about yours, Farleigh – love you both!
Diet and exercise. Let’s just start with the fact that I have a baseline diet of a 13 year old trash panda. If I could eat cookie dough and JIF Reduced Fat Peanut Butter in thirty-minute intervals all day every day I would. And sometimes I do. And then there’s pepperoni pizza. I won’t engage in a commentary about what it means to be fat or healthy or overweight – I really just don’t care that much about what others think on this subject (this is a Brynntatorship after all) – but let’s just say fitness and diet have not been on the forefront of my mind.
Like (I would hope) any sentient adult or tween reading this, I know what I have to do. Get my ass to the park and start running. Cut out everything I currently eat and replace it with actual food – and no, substituting regular soda instead of diet soda isn’t a valid trade. According to Lauren, and everyone else, neither is acceptable. The problem with fluids in my case is I loathe water. It sucks. No one will convince me of otherwise. It doesn’t bring any joy to my taste buds or life and unless it begins to taste like the Island Guava sugar-storm beverages of my youth, it isn’t happenin’. Give me a Capri sun over Poland springs any day of the week.
I like to use the fallback justification of “life is too short” and YOLO to eat crap and do nothing as much as the next person. Unfortunately for me, the days of running marathons have been put on hold so my old faithful favorites like “whole pizza Sunday’s” and “mazzofeasts” need to get benched and fast. The health factor is somewhat of a consideration (I am approaching the 32 range) – but more so, my ability to gain weight, what I’ve dubbed the Kernan Fat Potential, is incredible. 2 days – 11 lbs. added. I should get some kind of award for turning 2 lbs. of food into 5 lbs. on the scale, it’s truly remarkable. Alas, here we are… 12 lbs. and a sore back from goal weight with more cavities than teeth and no bikini bod in sight. I told you the complaints were coming.
Since I’m somewhat of a bandwagon dieter, upon watching “What the Health” last summer I proclaimed myself a vegan for life. That proclamation was in fact necessary given the only pants I could wear were my significant other’s at the time and I lost 18 lbs. in 6 weeks and resembled my normal self by Thanksgiving. But as we know it was a tough winter in the northeast with January boasting 13 days in a row below 20 degrees. So I did what everyone else was doing and binge watched The Crown and burned up seamless like a champ. Note: KFP is most easily and expediently achieved by ordering cheesecake from Cafe Lalo two slices at a time (had to meet he delivery minimum) at least 4 nights a week. January 2018 was LIT.
Speaking of cheese, that glorious and disgusting food holds a place too dear in my heart and soul to give up for good. That’s a hard pass on Brynn the vegan. And I am never going to meal prep. Basically I’m SOL and in need of some motivation, a new and exciting and deliciously healthy diet and a fourth leg for my dog. AKA looks like I’ll have to get my big A double S to the gym and cut the crap, literally. Any other ideas are fully appreciated – especially those that tout regular soda consumption as a dietary supplement. Who cares if Coke takes rust off a drainpipe, maybe it’ll help clean the Mazzofeast out of my arteries in time for Memorial Day. Two birds. One stone.
So I’ll start running again. And I’ll give up soda and candy and cake and cookie dough. Check back in a week. I’ll probably be dead from sodium and sugar withdrawal. Send Mexican Coca Cola (it’s healthier, they use sugar instead of high fructose corn syrup, winning!).
Culture. I’m guessing not many people out there would qualify Deadpool 2 as a cultural activity. And, considering I have to get a babysitter for my bandage chewing bandit to check the mail – I should probably focus on higher value cultural activities when given the opportunity to leave the apartment. I’m not much of a museum loiterer – I think a sensible 35-45 minute jaunt counts as a cultural excursion. But even with such low qualifications as to what defines a cultural activity I don’t find myself hopping on the bus to check out the latest at the MOMA on the reg. Or ever. So given I have an open road ahead and have done approximately zero cultural exploration in this glorious city I call home, perhaps a goal of exiting my comfort zone (i.e. drinking Frosé at Prohibition) twice a month for some culture. We don’t want to set goals we can’t achieve, right?
Options in the cultural exploration column so far:
- Planetarium visit
- Bike up to the Cloisters
- Transit museum in Brooklyn
- MOMA
- Whitney
- High line walk (told you the cultural bar is set low)
- Ellis island adventure
- Anything that doesn’t involve throwing back Pinot at Prohibition (in my defense they have live music every night)
The Trip. In between starting this post, dinner at Primola followed by some Pinot at Prohibition last night and rewrapping Hudson’s leg 349834 times, I was given an amazing gift. My best friend from growing up in Australia is flying me over to Perth in November for the christening of her perfect third child, Chase. As his godmother, I’ve been pretty much a let down, and don’t deserve this unbelievable generosity – but I miss Krissy and her husband, John and their entire family so much it makes me feel sick – and it’s rude to refuse gifts so …I’M GOING TO AUSTRALIA!
Because this post is already way too long, I’m going to cut it here – but I’ll conclude in the same mildly condescending and equally trite way I usually do: I’d be deceased without the kindness of my family and friends and they alone are the reason I’m still trucking along on this journey of life (Hudson will be begrudgingly included because he and I are not speaking currently due to insatiable appetite for gauze and sterile non-stick bandages, get your shit together dog dog). Also – I’m so excited for Australia!
The Dog Hair Diaries 