Thursday, October 8, 2009


OK, there was one last doughnut in the break room. It just happen to be a New York cheesecake doughnut which is basically made of angel wings and all things that are right with the world.

I had to eat it. That puffy cloud of goodness was put there specifically for me to eat, and who am I to fuck with fate? That thing was exactly what I expected - fuckin' outstanding.

Now I'm not a health food Nazi by any means, but I usually stay away from doughnuts on a regular basis. Besides being made from fried dough and sugar those things provide as much calories as two meals. In this case, the New York cheesecake train wreck came in at 340 delicious calories. Fuck a duck, dude!

But hey, I workout and run five days a week. I can have a doughnut every now and then - no big whoop.

All was good until a pair of Subway white macadamia nut cookies fell into my lap at the end of the day. I mean, I try and help my fellow man in a time of need, and she REALLY needed to get rid of those cookies. After 440 calories of Cookie Monster madness (Om Nom nom nom!), I got to thinking about how much activity it would take to burn off a total of 780 calories of fat-ass weakness.

According to my sources, I would have to run 6 mph for about an hour and four minutes to burn off 780 calories, but what if I hated running? If I were a weirdo douchebag or a circus performer, I would have to unicycle for about 130 minutes to justify cramming my cakehole with all that junk. If I really hated myself, I would have to go ice fishing for about 326 minutes to burn off 2 cookies and a doughnut - over five hours of freezing my ass off just to burn off three food items!

But I'm not going to go to fly off the handle and go on a diet. Most diets are dumb and disregard the history of food consumption. This world wasn't built by people who were afraid of meat, bread, and sugar. Any sort of meal plan that runs contrary to the old school, sensible food pyramid plan is retarded and has failure written all over it. Besides, doughnuts and steak are just too damn tasty, right?

So what's a schmuck to do after inhaling close to a quarter of his daily, caloric intake in about 10 minutes?

1. Stay calm. Life is long. Eating habits aren't defined by one day of treats. Just make sure most of your days aren't spent eating things closely related to fried Snicker bars and French fries. You can tell when you're in trouble when your hand resembles a plate of sausages...and you still want to eat them...or at least give them a nibble.

2. Allow yourself to enjoy some kind of treat occasionally because candy and fried mozzarella sticks are the shit!

3. You need to realize food equals calories which should be proportional to the energy you need for your level of activity. Overeating is sort of like trying to fill your car's gas tank two gallons over its capacity and pumping another half a gallon onto the dashboard. Sounds absurd, right?

But it's just as absurd as consuming the amount of calories needed by a world class athlete just to sit at a desk all day and sit on the couch all night.

4. I need to buy a unicycle and a stop watch...and maybe review my insurance policy.

Friday, October 2, 2009

The Complications of Wading

I love it when intelligent people describe their own personal life as "complicated." These are the same folks that can wrap their minds around space/time physics or are in charge of some very big things.

I used to be one of those people (minus the space/time physics and in charge basically...I'm was nothing like them?), but one day my brain crapped out, and and since then my mind refuses to believe that life is as complicated as people make it.

For example, I was chatting with a friend fairly recently and inquired about her boyfriend since the the event we happen to be attending usually has the daters bringing a date and the single folks looking for dates or the bar. She told me that she and her boyfriend aren't seeing each other and that it was complicated.

But how complicated is it really? Now I'm not naive enough to think life is all black and white, but it's not all grey either. The way I see it - you're either with someone or... you're not.

But whatever. It's all relative. Everything looks a lot different when your wading in your own crap.

And as I smile and flippantly drink a beer from the safety of the shore I ask myself,

"Why in the hell would a rational person slosh around in their own muck?"

Figuratively or not - it doesn't make much sense.

So as the night wore on, the daters did the dating thing, and the single folks did their thing, and I did the only thing that made sense that night - I found the bar. It was pretty easy to find and not complicated at all.

Mazal tov!