Rich’s Blog de Sexy

Allllrighty then, it’s been two solid months, and after seeing and hearing my friends reaction when I went to Brians for ’standing room only’ Celtics night, I think I’m on the right path.  Brian, (my shorter but significantly more creative and talented friend) is convinced that if I keep at this diet the way I’m going, I’ll be “unrecognizable” by my wedding.  I hope not.  Seriously, if I show up at my wedding and nobody know’s I’m the groom, I’m going to be very confused and frustrated that I’d have to show everyone my 5th nipple just to prove it’s me.  

So I show up to Brians apartment, and it’s like Temptation Island for dieting fatties.  Pizza, beer, potato salad, chips…to be honest, it didn’t really effect me all too much.  Sure, sure, I played it off as if I wasn’t looking at that table of food like a buxom Swedish massuer who just informed me that the happy ending will be free of charge.  But I wanted that happy ending…I wanted that happy ending in my stomach.  No, wait…that didn’t sound right.  Ok, well, it made me wish I ate something before I went over to Brians, but I kept drinking water so I wouldn’t think about the fatty maker feast on the table in front of me.  “You’re just thirsty, you’re just thirsty” hahahaa. 

Besides that, I haven’t really be tempted to cross over that line again.  I’ve kept with my “chicken/lettuce and whatever else isn’t full of carbs/sugars” lunch.  But it’s become a bit easier.  If there’s nothing that I can have at any of the cooking stations, I can make a plate of lettuce, and the chef there will grill me up some chicken, and sometimes bacon.  It’s like having my own mediocre meal chef.  Matter of fact, maybe I’ll start my own show on the food network, called “Mediocre Chef” and I’ll go from office to office, cooking meals that aren’t that great.  Like chicken with a basil leaf dropped on it after it’s cooked in no spices, and just a touch overdone.  It’ll be good enough where people won’t complain, but not quite good enough for any type of positive feedback.  “Up next, fried hamburger on a plate.”  I can hear the money machine starting up right now.

I’ve decided not to ever ask for questions again, and just be content with the fact that people take time out of their days to read my nonsensical ramblings about trying not to be a fat mess.  Speaking of fat mess, I believe I may have dropped down a couple categories in the “fatty meter”.  Everyone knows what the fatty meter is.

Chubby
Husky
Fat
Real Fat
Holy crap
Skin meshed with the couch that you haven’t left in 8 years.

I’ve gone from “Holy crap” to somewhere between “Fat” and “Real fat”  BUT not getting those, “How does he NOT smell like shit” looks is quite refreshing.  By the time my wedding comes around, with any luck, and if I keep at it, I’ll be right back at my high school size….”Husky”. 

So, with 2 months down, and a little less than 4 to go, I feel I’m making progress.  Yesterday was about 80 degrees with high humidity, so it was a good guage of how hot the summer’s going to be.  Now I understand that it’s going to be much hotter at times, but it was helpful.  I now realize I need more ‘airy’ shorts, and a sleeveless ‘tough guy’ shirt if I’m going to last during the hot days.   Also, if I’m at where I’d like to be at, come September, I will be playing semi-pro football.  No excuses, if I can quit cigarettes, and drop hundreds of pounds, I can join some raggedy football team and stick to it.  So ya, that’s it, come September this new husband will be reborn in the glow of semi-professional American Football.  See you in a week.

“You lost a midget”
-Marc Lehane

It’s probably true.  Those damn lil guys must weigh, what…like 20 lbs each?

Wait…let me google that…

Ok, so f googling it, I’m going to assume that they weigh about 60 lbs each.   Give or take the meaty lil fingers and toes weigh more than they look.  Well, I’m smoothly coasting along the diet wave with the accuracy and determination of a drug free professional surfer.  Cuz the druggies don’t have that motivation, they just like surfin.  I dont’ just like being on a diet, I want to beat this diet until it’s my filthy little bitch.  And I am.  I’ve lived on a “chicken and lettuce” lunches, ever since I found out that feta had sugar in it.  I can’t F with sugar, messes up the ketosis.  (Stops burning fat, and starts focusing on burning the sugar) 

So I went to Our House again this past weekend (Friday) for game 6 of the Celtics/Cavs series.  This was the location where I had my first Jack/Water (the Artie Lang special).  So I felt it necessary to stick to my newfound go to.  About 5 rounds in, I realized…no, my friends, who just witnessed me drink these Jack/Waters like they were the cure for Aids and I was Magic Johnson, realized that I may need something with a bit more substance.  So we call the waitress over and I have a small discussion trying to find out which was the best for my Atkins diet.  It turns out Gin & Tonic was a solid choice.  So I went with that for the rest of the night.  Turned out to be a good choice because I ended up sleeping with 5 girls that night.  Angela was at her Moms so I knew my bed wasn’t being used…but it would be!! 

So I’m in bed with two Brazilian chicks and a Chinese lady.  She was a lady because she only enjoyed the missionary position. 

So I kicked that chick OUT!!  LATER!!  Time for me to get my doggy style on!! 

**Dream sequence end**

Whatever, it could have happened.  Anyway, after that I went over to Brians house because his apartment contained better mariju…wee…televisions than what Ryan was offering me.   What a great way to end off the night a few hi….tv shows, and a smile.  Of course the most difficult part of the evening, was watching my friends enjoy those delicious burgers with their crosscut french fries, and their carbs and grease.  Stupid skinny, healthy jerks. 

The Celtics may have lost that specific game, but they won the series.  My friend Ryan said that night (and yes, I’m going to quote him) “If the Celtics lose this game…they will NOT beat Detroit.”  I think he said that because he’s going to be on the road for that series, so it’s more of wishful thinking then a premonition.

Anyway, that’s my lil update on my major weight loss.  I think I’ll post a picture sometime soon, I rocked my Cobra shirt to work today.  (the one Bouff got me for mah burfdae)  And it fits perfectly.  2 full shirt sizes different than when I started.  Oh, and those pants I bought, that were a lil smaller than my originals…are already getting a bit large in the waist area.  So who knows, you may get the “I can shop at normal people stores” post sooner rather than later.  And one more thing before I talk about the awesome haikus…someone was ‘nice’ enough to ask me a question like I requested.  Here’s the question, and my response:

What’s does it mean to be happy?
-anonymous

Dear Anonymous,

You owe me an apology for such horrendous english.  Unless you’re one of the Brazilian bikini models I had intercourse with last Friday when Angela was at her mothers, you have no excuse.  :P  To be happy, anonymous, means you have what you need, and can obtain what you want.  Or it means you just found out that tumor is benine, and that blotch on your skin is just a rash.  Either way, happiness is what you make it. 

Sincerely,
Rich

On a side note, Steve asked that I post the Jon Lester Haiku’s that my friends (aka my blog readers) and I shared this morning in the wake of Jon Lesters no-hitter.  (Jon Lester = Next Chuck Norris)

S. Graham:
Let’s give Lester AIDS
So he’ll find the cure and then
pitch a perfect game

J. Tilton:

R. Hutchings:

That’s right, I have new, tighter slacks, and a shirt 1 size smaller….but I could have gone 2 sizes!  I’d tell you what size I am, but I don’t want you all to feel bad about yourselves.  FINE, if you must know, I’m a boys extra-medium.  Hahahah, I totally pwnd you, there is no boys extra medium, stupid!  Anywho, I went out this past weekend with Angeler, and purchased myself some new trousers and a new t-shirt.  The trousers were 2 sizes down, of course I could have gone with the next size down, but I’m not trying out for an 80’s cover band, and just because they button at the top, doesn’t mean they look good all the way down.  So I went with a lil larger size.  Now, granted, I know the size difference is comparable to taking a cup of water out of the ocean and expecting people to notice the change, but screw you guys, I notice.  hahaaa.  (<– That’s me laughing) 

I went shopping last week, and stumbled across a product that made me smile like a special needs kid with a light up yo-yo.  I found Ketchup, with 1g of carbs, and 1g of sugar.  Now, I’m not sure how many out of the 6 people reading this, love Ketchup with your burgers, but imagine eating a burger with just cheese, no bun.  Yeah, how important is that Ketchup now?  So ok, I sprung a lil wood, as I tossed that bad boy into the shopping cart.  That’s right, I’m a true G.

This past Saturday, I was a timer at the BMW Car Club of America “Evolution Driving School.”   My boss asked me to, and said they pay $85, so I figured, WOOHOO, easy money, which it was.  But I have a new hatred for spoiled little boys, BMW’s, Miata’s, Mercedes’, Subaru’s, BMW’s and BMW’s.  I mean, why don’t the guys just stand in a circle with a cookie in the middle and smack around each other’s rods when they talk about their cars.   Not only that, but it’s not like they’d have full on conversations, because clearly, they’re too awesome to care about the other person.  Just feeding each others ego’s douche cookies is all.

“Hey man, you hit that turn right.” 
“Yup, popped the clutch on my BEAST and it coasted right on in there.” 
“I hear that.” 
“Yup.” 
“Yup.”

Nope.  I just kept picturing brick walls after there 3rd turn.  I imagined that it’d be impossible for them to expect it, because it’s around a blind corner you see.  So they’d hit that turn and in my head it’s “BAM!!!” guys body goes flying out of the car and past my “timer spot,” into the driving line of another car, sending that car careening into the group of yuppie spectators and their $80,000 cars.  Ahhh, to dream. 

But as usual, my diet’s going well.  I stick to it like a crackhead sticking to a crack regiment.  Which I assume has to be pretty strict.  I’m going for my walk every day, and now walking even more.  Just doing little things, here and there, I figure it’ll add up eventually.  My flag football team (The Angry Pirates) remains undefeated (5-0) with 2 games tomorrow night.  I haven’t touched a beer since this diet started, but have recently found out that vodka, bourbon, whiskey, scotch and gin are all OK for me to drink.  So, this summer’s drunken nights should be very interesting.  But, that’s basically it from me this week. 

I’d like to try something new, next week.  This is a friggin stretch, I know, but if you have some questions, please put them in the comment section of this blog, and I’ll respond to them next week.  I doesn’t HAVE to be about the diet, but I mean, I don’t know the meaning of life, and stuff like that.  Of course, I do know every constillation in the sky, by heart.  So yeah, questions, if you got em.  See you next week Dick fans.

Alright, I’m beginning to see differences.  First off, I’m not gonna sugar coat this in any way, I can get an unobstructed view of my manhood again.  Not only that, but my belt is almost to the point where I need a new one.  Angela says I need a new belt anyway, but a real sexy man like myself, doesn’t buy new belts until at least 10 inches has been dropped.  You’re probably (not) asking yourself “doesn’t the belt have notches?”  Nope.  I got one of the kind that uses those buckles…with the thing that just kinda catches.  Like a window blind.  Anyway, it’s almost wrapped around to my back.  Which is a good thing.  Crazy insane results will come, I can only assume, in time. 

I’ve been sticking to this thing perfectly, and at the same time have been eating some of the best meals I’ve had in a long time.  Angela and I came up with our own surf & turf, which is (for me) Rib eye steak & 1/2 of a piece of scrod, (for Angela) a tenderloin, and 1/2 piece of scrod.  It’s a delicious combination.  I officially walked approximately 30 miles for the first month of my diet.  I expect to keep that pace as the heat increases.  I’m sure a 1.6 mile walk in 50 degree’s is significantly easier than a 1.6 mile walk in 88 degree humid weather.  But, I shall continue on.

This past week, I had to fight through a pretty serious case of the gout.  My ankle was as red as a baboons ass, and the size of…a…babooons ass.  It was painful.  BUT, with the help of 5 cherries a day (keeping safely under the 20g of carbs/day guideline (5 cherries = approx. 8g carb, 6g sugar) the cherries stop the onset of the Gout).  I made each walk that week.  I did NOT, however, make it out with my friends this past weekend.  My ankle wouldn’t allow me to use my clutch in my Jeep in Boston traffic.  At that point the pain was so severe, that my ankle wins, hands down.  I still have some pain in my ankle, but that’s probably because I had red meat.  Either way, with being on the atkins diet, and balancing the gout is a tightrope walk.  On one side, I got to eat pretty much nothing but meats, on the other, if I eat too much meat the gout enflames, and I become a waste of humanity for a couple of days.  Like I said…it’s a tightrope walk, but I’m workin on it. 

I’m trying on old shirts that I kept because of the “I’ll fit into em eventually” attitude.  And I’ll be damned if I don’t fit into a couple of em.  Sure, sure, there’s a couple more that need a lil stretching, and I can get into them.  But there are a couple that ligitimately fit.  So, pretty much, this atkins thing isn’t a sham.  It’s working well, and I’m not on edge like when I quit smoking cigarettes.  20 carbs, no sugars, per day, and I’ll be a slim, trim sexy judgemental jackass.  More to come.