jennings rampage

And now, a race against the clock.

Did I really put this off this long? I have to be in Porter’s car in like twenty minutes to get to Inside Improv, so I’m just going to wave my arms around and beat the buzzer.

I’m a proud new owner of a GNC Gold Card, which entitles me to 20% off all GNC products during the first week of the month and 10% off the rest of the month at my home store around the corner from my apartment. I know some people roll their eyes at how trendy Atkins has become, but I feel like its pervasiveness is only going to help me make this work, I never had access to specialty products before, it was all do-it-myself meat and cheese, and that monotony did me in. But with restaurants following the money and pimping low-carb and stores like GNC stocking all the expensive shit I never had the patience to mail order, I can handle the fad stigma. I sort of went nuts in the GNC the other night on the Atkins products — Atkins bake mix, Atkins maple syrup, low carb tortillas, low carb breakfast bars.

The bake mix made an edible pancake, but they have a pancake-specific mix that I’d like to try. Still, it was a good pancake for 3g of carbs, and you’d be a fool to knock that. The maple syrup was basically brown water, you don’t need it. The low carb tortillas are fantastic — 3g of net carbs apiece, and they’re not at all offensive. I had tuna and cheese in a wrap for lunch, and chorizo and cheese in a wrap for dinner, and I’m all set. Haven’t tried the breakfast bars yet, but they’re probably either chalky or chewy or both. But they have the advantage of not needing to be cooked in the morning, which is important to my lifestyle choice.

My paycheck hit my bank account today, ahead of schedule, so Austin and I hit Furniture Follies, a used/discount furniture store about ten or fifteen miles outside of town. We picked up a mismatched couch and loveseat for about a third of what we’d have paid in a showroom, so we’re happy. We also got to meet Mitch, a very low-pressure kind of salesman who would make a borderline lewd remark and then immediately apologize for it. “Hey, make yourself at home on these couches, you gotta know how they’re going to feel, you gotta know how you’re going to watch a game on them, you gotta know if you can get comfortable with a lady on them… oh, I’m sorry guys, I get a little out of control, I’ve been here since 9am, I’m only still here because of the good looking girl behind the counter… oh, I’m sorry guys, I just need a moment.” He told stories about how he used to be in the Navy and was a police officer who did hostage negotiations and was selling furniture because he had to have fun and he liked the good looking girl behind the counter. (I guess she was all right, but I wouldn’t exactly hang around at my job for her. Austin went one better: “I’d… date her.”) I’ll be back to see Mitch in a few weeks when I get a bed, I’m sure he’ll have the right perspective.

So we went with a bluish couch and a fluffy black loveseat that seemed to be the least visually offensive of the selection, loaded them into Austin’s truck (and as we were loading, a carload of blonde Carolina girls pulled up to Mitch’s delight), and set them up in the apartment. Now all we need is an entertainment center, some coffee and end tables, a bookcase, and some plants, and this’ll look just like a living room. Still, my ass is firmly plopped on a quality game-watching couch and I’ve got my wireless Internet going, so we’ve come a long way. I declare my Living Like A Serial Killer days to be over.