If you don’t live way out in the middle of nowhere, you may not know what a septic system is. See, we don’t have sewers way out here – we have a tank and drainage field where the stuff that goes down your drains ends up (that’s why the front lawn looks so green). Every once in a while, you have a septic service come to empty out the system when it becomes overly full.
I’m feeling a little bit like a full septic system right now. I’d say the level of crud in my system is somewhere above my chest and rising fast – overflow is imminent.
In the last few weeks, I’ve been eating less and eating better - trying to get in shape. You know how they say your stomach “shrinks” and you get used to eating less food.
So, when you go back to eating “normally” and eat that way you used to eat, like I did this weekend, you get really, really stuffed…
(beep… beep… beep…)
Hang on a second, that’s my wife’s blog beeping in on another connection.
Hey Diva – what’s up?
Diva’s Blog: Lets not kid ourselves or anyone else, you didn’t go back to “normal eating” - you ate like a pig this weekend.
Well... Yeah, you know I was cooking a big meal... and I was tasting as I was cooking... and that all starts to add up…
Diva’s Blog: I’m pretty sure you had a meatball or sausage and some spaghetti sauce every 30 minutes. That’s not “tasting!” – The meat didn’t change flavors 2 times an hour.
Ok, so I probably had a few more helpings of meatballs and sausage than “normal” but that couldn’t stuff me like this…
Diva’s Blog: True, not alone; but when you compound that with the cheeseburger and bratwurst the next day, you’re getting there.
Hang on a second! I had those with no buns. I was trying not to eat too much.
Diva’s Blog: True again – which left you room for two pieces of pie – Mister “eating less and eating better”
Those were tiny, tiny slivers of pie. I was being polite to our sister-in-law who puts a lot of effort into those delicious homemade pies…
Diva’s Blog: Fine. But after all that, did you really need to rip into that huge plate of biscotti cookies I made while watching the Bears game?
Hey - I hate to let you go – but I’ve really got to get back to the readers of my blog. I’ve got them “on hold” on another connection. Thanks for checking in… see you later at home… hope your day is going well… you’re the best… bye…
I’m trying to get in better shape – or should I say better proportion. Proportionally, it is my goal to look more like a tree than a shrub or more like a stalk of celery than a bowling ball. But, the American dream is working against me. People have immigrated to America from around the world because they were looking for the opportunity and abundance that this country is famous for.
And – Wow. Do we have abundance...
Drive down any popular suburban or city street and they’re lined with places to get pizza, donuts, burgers, coffee, bagels, chicken, pancakes, beer, steaks, pasta, pastries – literally, foods every kind.
As an added bonus, our food choices are “open” pretty much all the time – they close for a short time when you’re sleeping. It is so incredibly easy to get food everywhere: in the airport, in the shopping mall, at the beach, at the train station. Next, there will be food vendors in your local place of worship. And if you aren’t within reaching distance of food – we’ve got food delivery to bring the food to you. Much of our food is also pretty cheap when you think about it. Really, all the barriers are knocked down.
As Americans, our culture is highly food oriented – we don’t know how to interact with each other unless food is involved. Can you imagine going to a park, beach, movie or sporting event without a food plan? I know when we go to a movie, the popcorn, soda and candy are as important as the movie. Food is interwoven into EVERYTHING we do.
I’m sure you’ve heard: “We’ll stop and get some snacks or coffee on the way to the ‘thing,’ then we can grab a burger or something when we’re there and then later we can meet up with everyone at have some dinner.” You thought it was a day about some event, but really it was a food map that included the event as one stop.
I am truly happy that I don’t have to worry about how to raise food to feed my family. Many years ago, you either figured out how to grow and cultivate enough food or you didn’t make it. Now, you either learn how to control yourself from lure of the hyper-availability of food – or you might not make it.
Even worse, the food we eat is precisely formulated to make it so tasty that “you can just eat one.” The food tastes so good that we can’t help but eat huge portions like we are preparing for a famine. Think of the justifications that have gone off in your brain to instruct you to eat another serving when you know you shouldn’t: “I don’t want this to go to waste. It won’t taste as good re-heated tomorrow. I really haven’t eaten much else today.” It’s an amazing culinary and food science achievement with horrible results. A doctor friend of mine recommends this book about the power of formulated food: The End of Overeating.
(all this talk about food making me hungry)
Here is my challenge to you (if you are overweight): Go about your business for a day (or more) without a food plan – just wing it. Be so unconcerned about food that you maybe unintentionally skip a meal because you were too busy doing something else.
I bet you can’t do it - I can’t. It’s a constant battle to avoid the powerful lure.
Please note: I appreciate the fact that as a society, we are compassionate enough to provide special services, protections and assistance to handicapped people. Furthermore I apologize that my genetically predisposed male mind is always attracted to the lowest common denominators of humor, in this case, bathroom humor. I will venture to be more philosophical in future writings but for today, welcome to the boys locker room.
That being said…
Do you have a “special purposes” restroom in your building? In some buildings, they are just labeled “Handicap Restroom” – but in my building, they’ve taken it to a new level. Our “special purposes” restroom features the expected wide doors and convenience handrails but somehow is intended for additional purposes.
You might think I am kidding – so to prove I am not, I snapped a picture with my cell phone.
Our building features a HANDICAP/LACTATION/BLOOD PRESSURE RESTROOM. For some reason, this strikes me as something you would find in a legal contract.
AGREEMENT BETWEEN YOU AND ME
In consideration of the desire to explore the possible permitted and non-permitted uses of the HANDICAP/LACTATION/BLOOD PRESSURE RESTROOM (hereinafter referred to as the “HLBPR”).
Whereas you the reader of this blog have come upon this collection of purportedly organized but potentially random words, intended, but not likely to convey humor, either on purpose or by accident and;
Whereas the writer of this drivel has assembled this collection of relatively random words and thoughts;
Now, therefore, in consideration of the fact that you ended up here;
You agree in advance to hold the writer(s) of this blog and all related parties, heirs and assigned parties harmless for any possible direct, indirect or consequential damages you may experience, in perpetuity, related to exposure to this information or from using the HLBPR.
SOME STATES OR JURISDICTIONS MAY NOT ALLOW THE EXPLORATION OF PERMITTED USES OF A “HANDICAP RESTROOM” OR THE HLBPR SO THESE LIMITATIONS OF LIABILITY AND DAMAGES MAY NOT APPLY TO YOU. THERE IS NO GUARANTEE THAT ANY OF THIS IS FUNNY OR EVEN WORTH READING. THIS INFORMATION IS PROVIDED “AS IS” AND YOU ARE CAUTIONED TO PROCEED AT YOUR OWN RISK.
Enough of that.
What I want to know is – “How does a handicap restroom evolve?” Darwin might be proud that a fledgling single purpose restroom has now found multiple uses but was this really necessary?
I "sort of" understand the progression. A lactating person (likely a woman but not necessarily) didn’t want to handle the business of lactation in a public place or in a restroom with people walking in and out. Depending on what the person looks like, I may agree. The “special purpose restroom” offered privacy and someone petitioned to turn the room into the HLBPR. I can’t pretend to understand the complications of public or private lactation. I’ve never had much personal experience with lactation (I’m pretty sure that was just sweat). So, I reserve judgment on whether this was really warranted.
Similarly, I suspect a person medically required to check their blood pressure during working hours may have felt uncomfortable using a portable blood pressure machine at their desk, in the lunch room or in the regular restroom and another “new use” was established. Again, the question that comes to mind is: Really?
Now I’m wondering who makes the decision about what Symptom makes the cut. You would need to order a new sign and probably send an announcement to all the building occupants. That can’t be cheap.
Since the need for privacy seems to have entered into the equation I wonder if any of these other “conditions” might qualify for additional uses of the “special purposes restroom:”
Recently ate Mexican/Thai food
Not in the mood to work
Need to trim nose hair and don’t want anyone watching
Of course, I think this is all ridiculous. We are so weak, spoiled and lazy. Suck it up people and let’s leave the handicap restroom open for the people that truly need it.
However, I am totally in favor of an executive restroom with a special key for very important people like me.
Ok. I’ve been avoiding writing this one because I know it will piss off some people but I cannot stay bottled up like this forever or my head will explode.
I’ve had it - up to here - with the obnoxious bicyclists.
I’m sure some of you ride bicycles. I occasionally ride a bicycle for exercise when I am in downtown Chicago. I’m not complaining about people using a bike “smartly” as a vehicle or for exercise or just for joy riding with the kids.
I’m talking about the wannabe “gold medalists” that travel in hoards while wearing their pretty outfits and going out of their way to disrupt traffic.
I’m talking about the Bike Roosters…
I live in a rural town where we have narrow, winding 2 lane roads. On the weekends, we are infiltrated by “men” (?) zipped into fluorescent/skin tight costumes that are pink, yellow, lime green and orange. Assuredly, these high tech racing suits must improve their average speed by at least 1/1000 of a second over a 10 miles stretch.
The Bike Roosters are not from the neighborhood. Instead, they drive here from wherever with bikes clamped onto car trunks as they descend on the parking lots of the local nature preserves and ball fields. Just because they aren’t from “around here” doesn’t mean that they don’t own the road though. They want you to know that they are operating a vehicle too, deserving the same respect as any Hummer or Escalade. Even though they should be single file, they ride three or more across in the lane, shoulder to shoulder, while simultaneously squirting bottled water in their mouths like some synchronized swim team.
Never mind that they can’t achieve even 8 miles per hour on an uphill road with a 40 MPH speed limit. And they know you’re behind them because they all have rearview side mirrors hooked onto their safety helmets. They expect you to drive at a crawl behind them, holding your foot on the brake pad, until the next downhill coast point where they can get up to 2/3 of the posted limit.
If you are behind them, just try to go around them! They pour on their best “extra effort” to see if they can match your 5.0L V8 that was designed to pull a 50 foot yacht. Suddenly, you’ll see a wild but impotent flailing of arms, legs, knees and elbows achieving no additional speed but instead swerving them all over the road like some haywire gyroscope to prevent you from getting ahead.
Even though they will work feverishly to stop you from passing them, if they approach from behind while you’re waiting at a red light, they’ll all drive around and ahead of you - stopping in front of your car to be first when the light turns green. If the cross traffic is light enough, they’ll ignore the red light and go.
The rules of the road only apply to them “sometimes” when it works to their advantage.
Is it a power trip?
Is it their “look at me” moment for the week?
Do they expect Olympic talent scouts to be around the corner looking for the next Lance Armstrong?
What is going through their heads?
If you’re a Bike Rooster and think I am wrong, send me an email to tell me why. I can’t wait to hear your side of the story.
Either way – stay out of my neighborhood or I’ll laugh you off the road.
I found a diet book called "The Skinny Bitch Diet", written by some models, lying on a table in my kitchen. For clarification, it was the book lying on the table in my kitchen, not the models (that’s an entirely different blog).
I suspect the book belongs to my wife or my girls. I’m sure it doesn’t belong to any of my boys because they’re reading “The Video Gamers’ Cherry Coke and Cheese Fries Diet.”
I was curious to know, what does a Skinny Bitch eat?
So, I took about 30 seconds to thumb through it, Evelyn Wood style, looking for key phases. I found: vegetables are good… blah, blah, blah… fruit is great… blah, blah, blah... meat is bad blah, blah, blah… eat whole grains blah, blah, blah… dairy is bad blah, blah, blah… sugar and bread are bad blah, blah, blah…
Ok – I get it. What a shock to find that models are vegans.
I started wondering - could I eat that way? I’ve never been skinny and I’m more of an ass than a bitch. So I would lean more toward a book called "The Not Skinny Ass Diet" or more succinctly "The Fat Ass Diet."
I can handle the veggies and fruit; I can deal with little or no sugar/bread; but no meat?
It’s like the best scene in My Big Fat Greek Wedding - “What you mean he don’t eat no meat? That’s Ok – I make Lamb.”
So, I think we need a new variation on vegan - a vegan that eats meat. Lets call it a MEA-GAN.
I see where they're going – I know that pizza, cheetos & soda are bad for you, but come on… I’ve got to have some beef, chicken, sausage and fish now and then.
So I’m taking pre-orders for my upcoming book: “The Fat Ass Diet: Learning to Eat MEA-GAN.”
If you were at our last “Live Broadcast” – you may have met my mom (and my dad). They were on hand, supporting us and enjoying our first “live on location” show.
The next “live broadcast” is this Sunday (7/12/2009) at Club Amore – 8166 Grand Ave, River Grove, IL - please be there at 5:00pm sharp!
Our former co-host and pal Amy Jacobson was also nice enough to be there to support us which was great until she makes the same comment as I always hear when people first meet my mother: “This cannot be your mother – she looks younger than you!”
Yes, I know I look old - Thanks Amy.
A couple weeks later, at my daughter’s graduation, more people meet my mother for the first time and again - “This cannot be your mother – she looks younger than you! Are you sure she’s not you sister?”
Hmm. You know, I'm not 100% *sure* - but I'll look into it and get back to you.
Don’t get me wrong – I’m happy for her because she does look great – but the unspoken implication directed at me is: “What the Hell happened to you?”
All this is fine, fun and even humorous until the “what’s your secret?” question pops up. Then she gives her explanation of why she looks young. Mom doesn’t say anything about genetics or anything about nutrition, lifestyle, vitamins, climate, or any of the usual stuff.
Her answer is: Ponds Cold Cream.
That’s it. All you need to do is plaster yourself with Ponds.
Immediately, all the women break out their iPhone/BlackBerry/Palm PDA or find something to jot down “Ponds Cold Cream” (including my wife). Officially, my mom is now the Guru of Youthful Skin.
Now, every night for the last few months, I get to smell “Ponds” – which has an aroma that is a cross between paint thinner and cream cheese. I can't take that smell. It makes me keep my distance like using garlic to fend off a vampire.
It's like a combination of face cream and birth control. No wonder I only have one brother.
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