Pre-Paleo Countdown: Scharffenberger Cocoa and New Years' Wish Edition

Koko, T-minus-one
Music: David Bowie, "Boys Keep Swinging"

For 2011 I humbly submit my request: I want a year without irony. I'm too old for it and I've had enough of the stuff for 2  lives already. It is lazy and it's cowardly. It says one thing, then winks and does the opposite. It suckerpunches right where it hurts. It wraps itself in Kevlar, skulking and caging. Instead of just asking, instead of just saying. Instead of just shooting straight.

For me I want a guileless year, a great big dorky trusting American tourist smile of a year: openhearted, sincere, and naive. Its big bloody heart right out there on its sleeve.

Too warm to worry about acting cool. Not savvy enough to wonder about the subtext.

I want a year in which you assume the best from me and I believe only the best about you, so we can each of us trust the other. As simple as that, whoever the "you" and "me" are, in every combination.

A year without hospitals would be pretty great too.

(And for you: I want whatever it is you want for your self. We deserve it, all of us.)

2010, you were a delight in some ways. In others you brought pain I haven't felt in a very long time. I like to avoid such "character building," such "learning experiences." But I look back grateful for the time. And grateful that it's over, and grateful to have gotten a peek at the truth, especially the times that I've wanted to see it least.


Yours,

Koko, who never feels worse than after napping in the daytime

Pre-Paleo Countdown: Later That Evening Edition

Koko, T-minus-two
Music: The Police, Regatta de Blanc

Yep, dinner was delightful. Mandy was in top form and the fellas at the next table over were a hoot. It was good to chat and laugh with friends. Last minute we decided to not meet up for the second leg of the evening and indulge in the best tropical drinks in the city. I love a tiki bar more than the average girl but after two glasses of wine no good could come of rum and fruit juice, cute little umbrellas or no. I'm not yet paleo this week but no need to go kookoo with it.

Lolo looked hot as usual and any weight she thinks December is manifesting is totally invisible. I wonder why that bitch Carroll has never commented on my spectacular weight fluctuation.

Can't wait to read the fellas' pasta blog. Let's hope it is just as self-indulgent and self-referential as this one.

And with that, I leave off, except to say that damn straight I can feel a difference between what has been normal eating this week (mostly paleo) and the donut holes with butter bourbon sauce that ended my otherwise pretty decent meal this evening. Feeling stuffed and sugary isn't pleasant and I hope I will remember that the next time deep fried doughy bourbon stuff rears its tasty head.

Yours,
Koko