Dear Harley: All is forgiven. This morning, I woke up and put on my favorite Radio-Canada t-shirt, one I've had to suck my gut in to wear, and it was loose. Oh, how I love you, right now. I've lost two pounds, which for me is a near impossibility. I've been going to the gym for a year and a half and only lost five pounds, so two is a biggie for me. Scott, on the other hand, bastard that he is, lost eight pounds over the last three days. That's men for you. Let's go golfing; I've never been before. What? I beat you? That's impossible. I can't believe I made a souffle; I've never cooked before. What? You can't make a souffle? Sure, you can. Rotten bastard. The Ex-lax is going in the smoothie for sure this morning. Seriously, nothing could dampen my mood. Even the intimidating Shrek-sized jar of vanilla whey powder I had to lug home from the gymnasty. It's so large that my tiny perfect hands can get around the jar to open it. I...
More than a million served!