I know what you're thinking. Blogging about a Master Cleanse is rather cliche. Well, you have a point. Unfortunately, what I write about is not your call. And while I usually go for 10 days, this time I'm shooting for 15. That's 360 foodless hours. So if you were wondering whether or not I have an eating disorder, wonder no more.
A DAILY DOCUMENTATION
Day 1: Went on a long walk this evening. Stopped at every Starbucks to use the bathroom. That's 2 bathrooms per block. I'm exhausted.
Day 2: Fara Fawcett died. And then Michael Jackson died. And now people are saying Jeff Goldblum died, but it's just an internet hoax.
Day 3: Didn't drink all day, came home and pigged out on the whole day's worth in an hour. Feelings of guilt.
Day 4: My apartment is spotless. Should file my taxes today but won't. (Relax, I filed an extension.)
Day 5: WTF, Billy Mays died too?
Day 6: Walked home and ran into the set of Step Up 3. omg.
Day 7: Opened some mail.
Day 8: Manicure.
Day 9: Produced radio. Took advantage of all the free treats by drinking about 50 bottles of water.
Day 10: Transformers 2 should have been 45 minutes shorter and it actually wouldn't have sucked so bad.
Day 11: Fuck you.
Day 12: Fuck all you.
Day 13: I fucking hate people.
Day 14: Fuck me.
Day 15: Fuck this.
Final thoughts:
Jokes aside, I gained weight the last three days. Jokes on me, Body. Fuck. I'm sorry for writing this and I'm sorry I made you read it.
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