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MySpace blog 1.25.07

An enigma revealed Current mood:august Category: Blogging Well hello there, guys. Did anybody catch The Tonight Show last night? If not, y'all missed a bizarre, rambling stand-up comedy set by a drunken Phyllis Diller. She said that she was about to turn 90, so.........have a beer for me, Phyllis. In case you are not the rabid Scooby Doo fan that I am, you may not be aware that Phyllis Diller actually starred in a Scooby episode. As I recall, she was smoking almost constantly in that episode. Way to be a Role Model for the youth of the 70's, Phyll.....Anywho, If you didn't catch her stand-up set, well.....don't despair. I've got a little joke for ya:     Me: Knock Knock...... You: Who's there? Me: Nutbag Pedophile.... You: Nutbag pedophile who? Me: The Nutbag pedophile that tried to pass himself off as a 12 yr-old boy by shaving off his body hair and wearing makeup. I enrolled in 7th grade. Later, it was discovered that I was really a 29 yr-old man! Surprise!     So.....y'all did hear about this, right? I'm sure that you (like most people) are wondering how in the world this freakjob could have passed for 12. I wondered that myself, until the afternoon that I had to accompany my oldest son (astute readers may know him as "sexy bitch"....y, eh?) to a local JP's office to pay for some speeding tickets that he had. On the ticket it states that a juvenile must be escorted by a parent. Into the office we went, and sauntered up to the receptionist's desk. I quickly explained that we were there to see the JP. The receptionist told us that the JP was not in, but took the ticket (I guess to calculate how much "the sexy bitch" owed). After reading the ticket, here is a true and accurate account of the conversation:*   Receptionist: "Now which of you is this ticket for?" Ryan: "Me" Receptionist: "A minor has to bring in a parent with him" Trey: "Yes Ma'am....That's why I'm here" Receptionist: "What? You're his parent?" Trey: "Yes Ma'am...I'm his dad" Receptionist: (blushing) "Oh...I'm not going to say how old I thought you were" Trey: (awarkwardly shifting his large girth from foot to foot) "oh...Haha" Ryan: (daydreaming about the ladies)".........." Receptionist: "I thought you were his brother, or friend, or something" Trey: (wondering if this is being filmed for a hidden-camera show) "Well....no"   This was a little strange for me. Older women usually don't hit on me in such a transparent ploy (Big Girls and Black Girls, sure, but not Old Ladies). I kinda think it's because my aggressive, surly sexuality must be a little threatening to them. But here was this older lady, dishing out compliments and pressing her cleavage together....yeah, ok, maybe I was looking.....what?.....Anywho, that's when it hit me. There are people in this world that CANNOT estimate age accurately. And that, my friends, is how a 29 yr-old man got enrolled in the 7th grade. BTW, As I write this, I'm considering trying to get back in the 10th grade. I'll let y'all know how it goes in a latter blog.       * Ryan can vouch for the truthfulness of said conversation. Names have been left out for the sake of basic human decency.
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MySpace blog 1.19.07

I can dance if I want to....I can leave my friends behind... Current mood:ruminative Category: Blogging Well, I guess it's pretty evident that I'm starting to get a little bored at work. And when I get bored, I tend to blog. Cissy told me last night that I had to friend Heather so she could read my blogs. It's always a little un-nerving for me to let somebody "new" in to read what I write.....not because I always bare my soul in an embarrasing, man-weepy sort-of-way, but because I am acutely aware that some think I'm a lil' strange (Ciss and Brandi don't count). It has become a sort of tradition for me to dedicate a blog to the newest friend who might read my blogs (anybody remember Cyndi D.....anyone? Oh, right.....she's still kinda with us). So, with that in mind, I thought I would try a pre-emptive strike and just come clean with the main reasons of what makes me one weird dude....and these are not in order of importance.....     1) - I tend to make up weird little songs in the car for the enjoyment of my passengers. The last one was, I think, a little ditty called "Who put the I in illegitimate"...uh, you would have had to be there.... 2) - I am an obsessive, voracious reader. I will read ANYTHING. That's the reason I subscribe to Playboy......and Sexy Grannies... 3) - It is a running joke that I think my life may be being secretly filmed for an underground reality - TV show. But I'm not paranoid, or anything.....ok it's time for my psycho-genic meds...... 4) - I prefer my microwave-popped popcorn to be just a little burned 5) - When I halfway joke about me being psychic, I'm only halfway joking....there have been some strange incidents...Now if only I could come up with those damned Texas lotto numbers.... 6) - When I start drinking (seriously drinking....I haven't cut loose in a long time) I will gladly hear your life story.....but I will quite probably offer some drunken advice/ philosophy. And I can't guarantee that it will be good advice (just ask Brandi). I think the last one was something like "Man, screw Google stock.....invest in edible paper.....that's where the money is!" On a side note, when I'm REALLY, REALLY drunk, I turn into a pizza connoisseur. 7) - Although it pains me to admit this, I kinda have a fingernail thing. I can't stand for my fingernails to be very long, so I keep them clipped short. Very short. But I think I developed this thing after working at the hospital, so doesn't that make it a little more understandable? Yeah, I thought so.... 8) - I really have no problem with uncomfortable silence. If somebody, say, at work, asks me an overly personal question, I have been known to not say anything at all. I'll just keep the eye contact, fold my hands, and...not say anything until the moment is soooooo tense that the other person gives up and leaves. On another side note, Cissy will tell anybody anything. This is especially true when alcohol is involved.     So, there it all is. My soul laid painfully bare. All I can say is, "Heather, if this stark admission doesn't scare you off, then welcome to the Trey blogs".   Oh, and I almost forgot....I'm a boob guy....
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MySpace blog 1.18.07

How I met a real live whore!! Current mood:I think I threw up a little bit in my mouth Category: Blogging So, I was at work esta noche, and my scheduled patient did not show up. As it just so happens, there was a previous study to score (a real monster...8.1 hrs of recorded time). I decided to take a break around 10PM and go to Burger King (take that, diet). I placed my order, pulled around to the window, and paid the cashier. At this point, there was a knock on my passenger side window. It was obviously a homeless woman. "Sir", she rasped, "Can you please give me a lift to the shelter?". I looked at the BK cashier, she looked at me, and we both kinda shrugged like WTF. Please keep in mind that it was around 35 degrees outside. Long story short, I felt bad enough to give this chick a lift (generosity has always been my weakness....too much love for humanity, doncha know). As we near the shelter, she (inevitably) asks for 10$, and I tell her sorry, but all I can give her is the ride to the shelter. "I'll give you a blowjob", she said. Man....did I mention that she looked around 75 and stank really bad? This encounter really floored me, and left me incredibly depressed at the plight of some people.....so as her head was a-bobbin, I reflected that (unlike her) I was really, really lucky. Howso? When I checked my e-mail today I saw that I had apparently won not just one, but 4 different foreign lotteries (suck it, Texas lotto!)....and had 2 different business proposals (with minimum monetary investment).....and also discovered that a long-lost distant family member died, and I could claim the estate (as long as I prepay the taxes, a small amount compared to the 2.4 million euros I stand to inherit). So, yeah....I'm one lucky bastard.....How many other dudes get the chance to get cheap head from a member of the homeless while eating BK (Actually, I guesss that means that we were both munching on a whopper, eh?)   Ya-da-dant da-da Dant !
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MySpace blog 1.17.07

Weird recurring dream Current mood:lil' creeped out Category: Blogging Whilst trying to avoid any semblence of work, I was recently flipping through the late-night television channels. So, what did I stumble across? A classic Sly Stallone movie (Cobra...it really reinforces what a freak Stallone has become since his plastic surgery...for more on that, please see my earlier blog), infomercials galore (most, it would seem, deal with the lack of quality sleep, although the Girls Gone Wild videos take a strong second place), and a trailer for the movie "300". Noticably absent was the usual Action Central Cabaret commercials (but, I digress....). But this movie 300 looks to be pretty weird. From what I could piece together, it is a re-telling of the battle between the Spartans (not of NCAA fame) and the Persians. Interestingly enough, I remember a college teacher telling the class that the 300 Spartans in this elite unit were all gay. Seriously. I know Cissy will not take my word for any of this until Brandi verifies it (just like I've never cooked gumbo before. But again, I digress.....) even though this is EXACTLY the kind of trivial tidbit that I'm famous for remembering. So, all of that really has nothing to do with the subject of my blog, which is.....     Lately, I've been having this weird recurring dream!     The details vary slightly, but the constant theme deals with a haunted house. The house is always a large white woodframe, 3 or 4 stories tall, deserted, and in varying stages of ruin (sometimes almost wrecked to the point of condemnation, sometimes only peeling paint and saggy roof). In the dream, for whatever reason, I'm always having to enter the house. Something horrible has happened inside the house, and I always pick up the vibes from that. Strangely, I never actually see anything......only the feeling that I get from being in there is intense.....and bad. I've had this dream enough to wonder if I will have to actually enter this house in real life. Usually I can easily dismiss dreams as the firing of random neurons in a chemical bath......but now I'm not so sure. So.....anybody wanna play Freud and interpret this dream for me?
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MySpace blog 08.22.08

Be still my heart....uh, not literally Current mood:febrile Category: Blogging Welp, here it is at the very end of August. I have been very busy lately, which cuts down on my blogging time. After receiving many, many heartbreaking letters begging me to write more "zany articles of rib-tickling delight", I have a new goal....to blog at least once a month. Cissy would probably appreciate it more if my new goal was to double my income...but i am a man of my word, so 1 blog / month it is.     After vacationing in Florida earlier this month, I am reluctantly recanting my previous blog. You see, i have decided again that (should the circumstances align just right) Brandi will indeed be my next wife. What follows is a list of the reasons why:   10) - Awesome rack. Oh, I forgot...she likes me to call them "titties" 9) - She makes purty kids 8) - Has a no-nonsense approach to teaching her kids the correct anatomical names for parts of the body, like "Yum-yums", "Tooterbug", and "Penis" 7) - B makes a baked penne dish that will make you murder several people in an attempt to incite a race war. At least, that's how Chuck Manson described it... 6) - She can play foozball like a savant 5) - Has a decent shot at becoming a poker professional. I bet you expected me to make a cheap pun using the word "poker", didn't you? Well I'm a master of the unexpected, baby! 4) - Not afraid to get burned by a stoogie. I can't say any more about that 3) - She knows she can't *CHANGE ME* 2) - Shes ready to turn in by 9:00 PM, leaving me plenty of time to fight crime as a costumed superhero 1) One word: Beva (all I'm gonna say is that it's NOT what you're thinking, ya sickos!)  
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MySpace blog 03.20.07

Oh I wish I was in de land o' cotton...wait....I am.... Current mood:Truculent Category: Blogging Even though East Texas is growing pretty rapidly (Texarkana and Tyler, I'm talking to you....Queen City, you may be excused), I'm sometimes struck by how rual we still are. For example, there is a lot of confederate flag decor. I started noticing this......really noticing it...... just a little while ago. It led to the formation of my much-touted "Rebel theorem". The Rebel theorem, condensed to just the salient parts for all you non-scientific types, states that the property value of the house is inversely proportional to the amount of confederate stuff on / around it. Thing is, now I've started seeing this stuff on automobiles.....really seeing it.....recently. The other night I was driving in to work when I spotted a truck. Actually it was the truck. The truck of a rebel flag-lovin' mutherfucka. Seriously, there were no less than 8 confederate stickers on the back truck glass (I counted). That's not counting the 2 bumperstickers....Yes, before you ask, one of the bumperstickers was the "They can have my guns when they pry them out of my cold, dead fingers"......Yes, before you ask, the other bumpersticker was "The south shall rise again".   As a bit of an aside, let me just interject that I love living in the south. Not too terribly cold, and for the most part the people are friendly. Lots of folks are missing teeth, so my congenital birth defect is not soooo noticable. But....c'mon guys.....did you learn history at all (psssst....I don't wanna spoil it for anybody, but the south lost the civil war) between going "Frog gigging"? Bubba, are you aware that if the south had won the civil war, it would have left America fractured and weak, and we would have been invaded and plundered? Why, if the south had won, we prolly wouldn't be speaking English right now.....we'd be speaking Spanish.....ohwait.......well nevermind that last point.....   But back to the subject of the supertruck. There were stickers on the glass that didn't make any sense. Sure, I understand the "Southern born and southern bred...." sticker, but how about the one that said "Cousins are for cornholin'"....WTF?!? There was this one decal that had a lil' confederate Calvin taking a leak on the Ford logo. Huh? Did the southern soldiers really hate Henry Ford, or is the owner of the truck expressing his own opinions? Obviously, the Order of the Confederate Chevy has splintered off from the Fraternal Brotherhood of the Confederate Ford. Astute readers may be wondering "What did the occupants of the supertruck look like"? Sadly, they had his/hers mullets. The lady of the truck was truly dedicated to the theme.....Her hair was red, her skin was white, and the dark circle around her eye was bluish. Ah well, that's what ya gets for being so damn slow with that TV dinner... As the supertruck pulled in to EZ-mart for $ 3.50 worth of gas, I briefly thought about pulling in after them and explaining "Ya know guys, it's always the low socio-economic demographic that feels the need to hyper-express their pride. Is that because pride is all you really have left?" My eye wandered back to that "cornhole" sticker and I decided to keep going.......Hey, I've seen "Pulp Fiction" and I don't have any desire to meet the gimp.   I've been re-considering the matching mullets for me and Ciss......
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MySpace blog 03.11.07

Is Fort Worth ever on your mind? Current mood: awake Man, Fort Worth was more fun than I thought it would be....For the latter part of winter break, the whole family made a trek to FW. I worked Thursday night, and we got up to go Friday morning. Cissy was going to drive and let me get a little more sleep.....but honestly, I feel a lot better about our chances of making it alive when I'm driving, even on 4 hrs of sleep. This time there was no trick parking, but it was.......you guessed it.....valet. Oh well. After we got settled into the room, Cissy was going to take the kids and go trail riding via horseback, while I would get a couple more hours of sleep in the posh bed. When they left, I thought it an oppertune time to take a big dump. This way, there would be plenty of time for the air to clear out (sometimes, the family complains about the fresh-picked-roses smell) by the time they got back. Post dump (and about 10 lbs lighter, if ya know whut I mean) I had just settled in for my nap and had been asleep for about 15 mins when the whole family rolled back in. Good thing I hadn't rented "All natural titty extravaganza....volume 4" (and I couldn't say for sure, but in the preview there was a woman that looked a LOT like our own B Liles....Hmmmmm) on the pay-per-view or that would have made for some awkward conversation. Well, it turns out that Cissy couldn't find the stables, but DID find a bunch of desserts. Yum.....Donuts..... A little while later, we decided to walk around downtown to find a place to eat. We probably hadn't walked 10 yards when the was a little "screech" sound. We all glanced at the direction of the sound and caught the tail end of a car vs. bicycle accident. "Oh, the lady in the car is having a REALLY bad day" joked Cissy, as the cyclist lay broken and bleeding in the gutter.....Nah, just kidding....the guy was ok. But as he struggled to his feet, we saw that this lady had not hit just any cyclist, but a BICYCLE COP! "Wow, that lady's day just got a whole lot worse" Ciss said, as the cop angrily waved the car to pull over on the side of the street while he had a word with her. Have you ever been to Fort Worth? Downtown, I mean? As we were eating, then later walking around, I was struck by how much of a cowboy town FW really is. Lots of Cowboy hats and boots, and the old Western cut jackets. As a person of Native American heritage, it was just about all I could do not to scalp some old man and shout "Bury my heart at Wounded Knee, mutherfucka!"....or maybe "I will fight no more forever!". And I probably would have, too....except for all the Bicycle cops milling about.
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MySpace blog 03.06.08

Tragedy! Even beyond what the Bee-Gees sing about! Current mood:despairing Category: Blogging My friends, it is with a very heavy heart that I bring you some sad news: Gary Gygax is dead. He passed into the realm of the storm giants on March 4th. No confirmation on the rumor that he was buried in a cloak of invisibility +4. To be honest, experts aren't sure how, exactly, Gary's passing might affect the economy. It is likely that the majority of Americans will take off work Friday (which will henceforth be known as Gyday) to mourn by being celibate and rolling 20-sided dice.   On a personal note, let me subtly understate Gary's impact on my young life by declaring him the greatest American that ever lived. Cissy cruelly said that he didn't die; He only "leveled up". Cissy also laughed and did a little dance when Ronald Reagan died.   My association with Gary Gygax's product, Dungeons and Dragons, began when I was around 10 or 11 years old. I was living in Benton, Arkansas (right outside of Little Rock). Some of the more popular kids in the Salem Elementary school played and invited me to join the group. My parents were good enough to procure me a rulebook (it's called "The Dungeonmaster's Guide, for those who want to improve themselves). Thusly armed, I dove right into the game. We would get together on the weekends and play a little D&D (that's cool-speak for "dungeons and dragons", for those of you not hip enough to know). We had a pretty good run for a couple of years, until my dad broke the news that we would be moving to Atlanta, Texas. I'm pretty sure the guys were heartbroken at the prospect of losing the best player ever. Of course, nobody ever said anything to that effect, but I'm pretty sure they were thinking it.......I could tell by that apathetic look in their eyes.   I'm pretty sure my parents weren't all that jazzed about the game. Once, they made a big point of watching a TV movie with me that depicted a group of college kids involved in a fantasy game. Only one of the kids was SO into the game that he had trouble distinguishing fantasy from reality, and began killing people......thinking they were mythical creatures (The name of that TV movie? "Mazes and Monsters", starring a young Tommy Hanks). Peppered throughout the movie were parental comments like:   "Wow, imagine that. He couldn't tell what was real anymore..."(forced, awkward laugh) "Guess that's what happens when you play TOO much" "Can't give your imagination free reign all the time" "If it could happen to a college kid, watch out it doesn't happen to you"   I'm fairly sure that not being able to tell reality from fantasy is called schizophrenia. And I'm also fairly sure that you cant catch the schizophrenia from pretending once in a while. But I didn't know that back then. Also, I though too much masturbation might gradually weaken my eyes, rendering me sightless (but that's fodder for another blog).   Imagine my surprise when, upon moving to Atlanta, I found a group of kids that played D&D. Then imagine my surprise when I found out that the kids in Atlanta that played D&D were the social outcasts. In Atlanta, Texas, one could EITHER play football and be cool, OR play D&D and be in the band (um, no offense band guys that are reading this). I was forced to make my choice......and I made it. From then on out, I was a closeted D&D fan.   The only mis-step that Gary Gygax made was the adaption of his game into a Saturday morning cartoon. I've mentioned in past blogs my disdain for the cartoon "Dungeons and Dragons". When I looked up the cartoon on IMDB (because I'm a nerd like that......guess you can take the boy out of D&D, but......well, you know) I found out that the two main characters were voiced by Willie Aames, and Donny Most (better known as Ralph "the mouth" from Happy Days). Are you now beginning to see the foulness of this cartoon?   Ah well......as with most people, the good things that Gary Gygax did made up for the mistakes. I'm sad to see Gary go. Mostly because I need a rule clarification on how to advance my lawful-neutral thief/assassin.     And if the above weren't depressing enough, I found out that Patrick Swayze has pancreatic cancer. That sucks. I guess my longtime dream of seeing "Roadhouse 2" isn't going to be happening anytime soon.
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MySpace blog 03.06.07

It was the best of times, it was the...uh...best of times Current mood: quixotic Category: Blogging Well, last week at our house was winter break. That means everybody (except me) automatically gets 7 days off. It was an awesome week, though. Ciss and I made a roadtrip to Dallas earlier in the week to see Gomez. Traffic was not really that bad, but downtown....the streets are often one way, and there is currently a lot of construction. Put it all together, and it means that I only had to circle the block 5-6 times (Look kids....Big Ben!) before I could dart in to the tiny valet lot. Have I ever mentioned how much I hate valet? I think valet is in the top 3 evil things that Satan has loosed upon the Earth (The other 2 are methadone and Marilynn Manson). We will, unfortunately, further delve into the valet situation later on... The hotel was pretty cool. Very old building that had been re-done, but still had some soul left. Ciss and I wondered what to do first: Have a Starbucks treat? Walk around downtown and see the sights? Have a drink in the ultra-swanky bar? Long story short, we followed the example of some friends and had sex. There, I said it. We actually did all of the above, jackasses.... When it was time to depart for the concert, we decided to take a taxi. I walked over to a cab parked right outside the hotel's front door. The on-duty light thing on the top of the taxi was not turned on, so I was unsure if the guy was on break, or what. "Hey man" I say (because I am the people's champ), "Are you on the job?" The cab dude just looks blankly at me "We need a taxi", I explain "Abu jabba doe. No go diggy die" (in a thick Nigerian accent) I literally can not understand a single word that the guy is saying. So, I do the right thing and just start walking away. This is when Cissy walks up. "Can you take us to the Gypsy Tea Room", Ciss said. "yee-ssssss-uhhhh.....You know add-dresssss" "It's on commerce street, just up a couple of blocks" Cissy manages to direct the cabbie to the Tea Room. As we are exiting the cab, I almost step on some dude's foot. Turns out to be a member of the band Gomez. They appear to be on their way to scoring some dinner. After a short wait, we got in to the Tearoom. Now, if you've never been, I'll just tell ya: It's kind of a dive bar. I guess that's why my wife felt comfy enough to belly up to the bar and order a Chardonnay... WTF?!? (Beer and liquor only, sayeth the barkeep) ...The barkeep must have done his job pretty good, because Ciss was loose enough to make some friends at the concert (I know, I know...what a shocker...Ciss talking to some strangers and sharing our background). One was a kinda creepy couple originally from Colorado. Another was some very young blondie that was about to get married (but man, could she shake that ass!). Another was a goofball college kid with buck teeth (I would get to meet him after the concert, outside at the hotdog cart). Regardless, the concert was awesome. Real fuckin' awesome...The boys from Gomez played for well over 2 hours solid (not much talking between songs, and no breaks). They sounded great, but the crowd was mostly there to see the opening act, Ben Kweller ( He sounded ok, but he was dressed in this weird nautical-type theme. Striped sailor's shirt and captain's hat. I know it sounds bad, and he looked even more gay than my description sounds). After the concert, Ciss and I were hungry, and wanted to catch a quick taxi back to the hotel. I asked a nearby street hotdog vendor "Where is our best chance of catching a taxi?". "Right here", he answered, "Taxis run up and down all night long". While we were waiting, those damn hotdogs started smelling good. Cissy wanted one (This time, no sarcasm....I really WAS shocked that My wife wanted a processed meat product from a street vendor! Go figure....) but I explained that I was saving our cash for the taxi. I guess that was when the homeless guy heard that we wanted a taxi. "Y'all want a taxi?", he asked. "TAXI.....TAXI....." he bellowed, while running into and out of the street (ummm...I can clearly see that there are no taxis coming, crazy homeless dude...). Ciss and I started moving away. After we had waited awhile (Zero taxi sightings, either) we decided to start walking toward the hotel while keeping an eye out for a taxi. It was a little less than a mile, and the temp was nice and cool. As we were walking, though, I eventually noticed that we were discreetely being followed by a guy in a hoodie. He was about a half block back, but keeping pace to slowly overtake us. Of course, Ciss had no idea, and wanted to frequently stop and take pictures, until I explained. The only thing is....every time I told her we were being followed, she would say "Nuh-uh" or some variation thereof, until she spotted him with her own eyes. Finally, we made it back to the hotel. Just in time to miss room service. Well, I can always grab a quick bite.......Oh, wait a minute....That's right....My car is in VALET! I can go nodamnwhere! Cissy finally calls the front desk to ask if any place nearby delivers......Ah! Chinese food delivers! And the front desk hooks us up with the number! A very speedy 25 minutes later the delivery boy shows.....er, I actually should say the deliveryMAN, since he was about 50. And, here comes the unexpected....He spokey very little English! No, seriously! Very little English! The bill comes out to 26.87....all I have is 2 Twenties.....He looks like he has Zero idea of how to proceed, so I tell him "Just give me 3.00, and you keep the rest" (sure it worked out to be about a 40% tip.....That's just how I roll....That's why I'm America's Champion). Finally he got it through his head that I'd left him a pretty good tip, because there was a lot of grinning and nodding, until he backed out through the door. That was when Ciss discovered that we had been shorted one order of fried rice. The nice thing was.....finally I have beaten Brandi's and my record of drunken pizza spending. Forty dollar fried rice is a hands -down winner. You would think that for 40.00 it would be the best friggin' fried rice in the world, with all the amenities.....uh, not really......they forgot to include the eating utinsils. So.....Cissy sat on our expensive hotel bed and ate 40.00 fried rice with her fingers. Nice. So ladylke. Quite luckily, I had discovered the fork just in time for me to chow down. And this outing was only the start! Stay tuned for the 2nd part, or going to Ft. Worth with the family!
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First LB blog

I'm officially on the short-time countdown 'till I get banded. 3 days. Until then, I'm on the pre-op diet, and it's been difficult. I had underestimated the social role that eating played for me, until I could not eat. I find that I miss it. I mean, REALLY miss it. I think things will be better once I do get banded and can eventually eat solid foods. At least then I'll be able to accompany friends and family out to eat / talk (even if I do all the talking and they do all the eating) and not be so alienated.   Until now, my relationship with food has been love/ hate. Perhaps this procedure will remove some of the dysfunction out of my eating. I'm determined to do this thing the right way, and eat healthy once I get banded. My plan is for me to take care of the eating healthy part, and for the band to take care of the portion control part.   So, I think that's enough rambling for now. I actually just now stumbled onto the blogging capablities of this website, and thought I'd test it out. Will there be more blogs? We shall see.
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