Funny story.

So I'm watching Project Runway and editing some writing when I get a text from my stripper boss that she has a last minute birthday party for me to work tonight. Money is always good, so yay for that.

The thing is, before heading out for the family feast on Thursday, I busted out my weight vest and climbed stairs for 35 minutes. I haven't done this in a while.

I, uh, kind of overdid it.

Two days later, I can barely walk, let alone go up and down stairs. Or, jesus, wear heels. But, fuck me, I already said yes.

Not knowing what else to do, I just threw back some advil, pluggged in a heating pad, and what else? Grabbed my vibrator and set to work. I think it's actually helping. It should be -- I've already worn out two batteries digging it into my left calf.

It's not like climbing stairs does this to me often. Put me on a stepmill (those machines that have rotating stairs -- much better than a stairmaster) and I can climb and climb. Those are the machines they use in the fire department physical, so those are what I work out on. The thing is, my gym was closed on Thanksgiving. So I just used my 20 front steps, up and down about 60 times.

Like I said -- going up is no problem. You're using big muscles like your ass and your quads. But going down? It's all calf, baby. Poor, tiny, underworked calf. Ouch.

To add to the absurdity, I did just spend the last two days eating two enormous traditional Thanksgiving dinners. And today? I've been primarily eating goldfish crackers and raw cookie dough. I know. Gross. My roommates are all out of town, so there was nobody to stop me. I consider myself brave for choosing to be naked in front of strangers after all of that gorging. Oh, and did I mention I'm menstrual and crampy? Man, I'm hot tonight.

The show hasn't been confirmed yet, so there's always a chance they'll cancel and I won't have to smile through the pain. I'll let you know.