I'm out, food's in the fridge...

Humanity and the readers of the Lifetilt blog yesterday already owed a lot to sports and the lifestyle that comes with it. Yesterday, the only reason I didn't tell everyone to go to hell in a 600-word post was that I went for an 11 km run and climbed Gellért Hill in anger. I've been a bit too hyped up lately. There are too many names in my phone, too many unnecessary people around me, and too many dicks in the comments. Things have piled up, and I either write all this shit out of me here, or I keep it inside and in July I buy a Kalashnikov and go to a shopping mall to tear up the upholstery. I've reached the point where I'm not far from going to the bosses at the company and, without any pleasantries, pissing on their desks and their palm tree bought in Nepal in the corner. With this, my resignation letter is officially written as far as I'm concerned; HR can deal with formalizing it further. Everyone reaches a point in their life when they say, "everyone can suck my dick." Well, that point has arrived for me now, so I'm going to do the following. Two of my friends and I are going to Rome and Barcelona for 5 days. We leave on Friday and come home on Tuesday, and I refuse to submit any forms or leave requests at work; I simply won't show up, and at the same time, I'm going to start a major cleanup. It's been too long since I took out the trash on Facebook, in my phone, on Twitter, and in everyday life generally, so if I suddenly disappear from someone's radar, it won't be a system error. The many dick-fighting keyboard warriors in the comments will remain, because besides the real-life bums, I also need to see a few failed lives on the web to appreciate my own.

So on Friday, I'm breaking away a bit from this shit we call Budapest. I really need to leave everything for a while because I feel like I'm sinking into the base conditions here. Sometimes you have to leave to see why you needed to leave. I'll get rid of this petty, small-minded thinking, fears, and generally the mindset that if I write an article about any company, telling them to go to hell for spewing their meter-long bullshit all over the internet, then I shouldn't be the reckless one for writing it and saying, "hello, dude, use your eyes, don't just look." Dave asked me the other day... Am I really not afraid that one day my articles will come back to haunt me? I say, "damn it, why should I be afraid?" If they talk nonsense, mislead people, and I write about it, supported by numbers and justified by facts, then why should I be afraid? What the hell should I be afraid of? Is there freedom of opinion and speech, or what the holy hell, where it should be allowed to write that something stinks if it's shit, and refute claims for which the economic competition authority could easily punish them for misleading consumers? Exposing false prophets and pointing out that the emperor is naked is the foundation of our democracy, and it should be the duty of those living in a thoughtful civil society.

This is real civil control, damn it. Not dick-waving in front of Parliament, or opening fire hydrants on Oktogon. If God came down one day and read Blikk, we'd definitely all collectively pack our bags, all 6 billion of us, because the road to hell would begin and we'd have tickets for it, and then I shouldn't write that the whole newspaper is filthy, shitty, vomit, because I'd be hurting interests and getting sued? If this is the world we live in, then tell me, because then it's time to go out into the streets and fight for such trivialities as freedom of speech, opinion, and thought. Paid articles in newspapers, photo series reporting miraculous results in Fókusz, and company-sponsored blogs where they build ideologies around their three-stick bullshit, and present studies signed by bought-and-paid-for nobodies masquerading as half-assed experts, shoving it in our faces, telling us to buy this, you need this. We, and only we, bloggers, stand up against these things and give voice to the fact that something is terribly wrong in this country and, damn it, don't treat us like complete idiots. Bloggers and independent journalists (do they even exist anymore?) are the ones who stand up against the daily filth because we are not dependent on any side, and no one pays us. You can bitch and strike all you want at family gatherings, but neither revolutionary speeches over goulash nor so-called trade unions have ever solved anything. There's striking, damn it, and blocked side streets and grievances shouted into cameras. Great, one-column reports on problems affecting and crippling everyone next to a Viagra ad on page 17 because the front page is needed for decadence and whoever paid for the media appearance. We give voice and we say the words that might be tricky sometimes, but if not us, then who? The paid political journalists who think what they're told from behind? Or the millions trembling for their jobs, who silently endure because they have no other choice? Or perhaps the intelligentsia who have been missing for years, who should otherwise be the strongest opinion-makers? Do they protect us citizens and convey our complaints? Where would the limit be if there wasn't at least one opinion-forming force between the four-year elections? An opinion-forming force that, by the way, keeps these multinational bastards in check? Tar wrapped in colorful paper presented to us in some places, and we bloggers who write that 2400 kcal is not exactly a diet dessert, pizza is not the most updated meal no matter how it's served, and a 6000 forint bracelet doesn't cure cancer, then are we really the idiots who tempt fate? It's a bad sign if anyone should be afraid of these things.

 The other thing is politics, which they constantly badger me about, saying this blog isn't about that, and how it relates to workouts and diets. Well, let's clarify something. This blog is about what I write about, and if I want to post a picture of a damn butterfly every single day, then I will do that, and maybe no one will read it after a while.  Miss Zeibig articulated the essence of the blog best in one of the comments. Healthy living explained so that even a janitor can understand it. Yes, but I see that for many, even so, understanding and comprehending what is written causes problems.

But the best  is happening lately, as people are starting to question the authenticity of Petra's weight loss and I'm getting comments like "the light is different," "why isn't Petra holding a newspaper in front of her for the photos," and "are you sure the picture isn't Photoshopped?" You can harass me, you can mess with me, in fact, I even like it because I'm an exhibitionist pervert. But it's absolutely unacceptable for people to vent all the misery of their bitter, fucked-up lives on a young girl who maintained a strict diet for 70 days, worked out, made sacrifices, fought hard to achieve her goals, lost  over 11 kilos, and motivated hundreds of women to start changing their lifestyle. What Photoshop? What newspaper? Oh, and that I also wrote Petra's posts, but seriously, don't you want to go to hell? Petra went through the program honestly, end of story. Anyone who doesn't believe it can feel free to set their house on fire.

There are still a lot of things that piss me off, but I won't talk about the Summerproject, the Publimont advertising agency, or the police escort for the EU presidency delegates who have been rotting here for weeks, siren blaring up and down Andrássy Avenue. On Friday morning, I'm leaving the city at Ferihegy, and then it'll be a deluge, whatever happens, and I think for the first time since 2001, I'm turning off my phone. Oh, and no Lifetilt run, because we're coming home on Tuesday. There might not even be a post until then. Or there might be. I don't even know yet.