Just Call Me Fatty McButterpants

I've known this day was coming for a good six months. Tomorrow I start the three-week HCG diet. Most of my marriage I've been around 225 pounds, but I gained a bit whilst in New York last summer, and a couple of weeks ago, I weighed in at 240. Then I drank soda almost every day last week and ate a ton of sugar, and got all the way up to 243, and 27 percent body fat. For my height and age, that is starting to get into some bad territory. Not orca territory, but I've seen the writing on the wall. The HCG diet has you on 500 calories a day for three weeks, and 500 very specific calories at that, and taking HCG and a couple of other supplements every day to help control appetite and maximize results. I was able to get a nutritionist on trade, and she swears that you don't feel hunger if you are consistent in taking the supplements and that it is much easier to keep the weight off by using her services instead of trying to do it by yourself. But I'm kind of eager to test my mental toughness. I might not feel that way in 24 hours, but I have every intention of succeeding, and plan to keep the world in the loop via the blog. Before long, I may be the runt of the family. Vance is pretty hooked on Mountain Dew and is all domestic, while Gina has gotten hooked on fried lutefisk. Anyway, tomorrow is Armageddon, hence the choice of music. I am sticking with this thing no matter what.

I did, however, abort the moustache. I let it grow for five days and it was getting fairly noticeable. The thought of being seen by clients and prospects was too much for me to take. If I were a computer programmer, I would do this, and get away with it. Computer programmers and web designers are supposed to look like slobs. I don't know how to trim facial hair that is that long, so it hurt like a bitch to take off. I guess that's what I get.

Lastly, some of you have mentioned that I failed to crown a winner for the Embarrassment Olympics. The consensus, between Amy and I, at least, was that Julia's moment was the most spectacular. I was totally in that moment and have played it over and over in my mind to cheer myself up, partly because I have a brother-sister relationship to Julia and take joy in her humiliation, and partly because she is kinda special, so she deserves a prize. About that, though, after ordering a box full of the Scarface keychains, I found out that virtually every line has one or more F-bombs. I traded for them using the Trading Floor my company's software provides, and figured there would be a "Say hello to my little friend," and a "Say goodnight to the bad guy," among others. Nope, it's basically eight very vulgar phrases. So we may need to come up with a replacement prize. If I don't find a good trinket, perhaps we can host your family for dinner at my house (after my three weeks are up). Anyway, I've gotta figure it out. Congratulations, Julia, on being super-clumsy to the point that people openly wonder if you are retarded. Anyway, until next time, I bid you toodles...

Dude, Where's My 'Stache?

I've been bored lately. The winter can't go fast enough. Amy spent most of January and February curled up with morning sickness, and it's been no fun. Obviously, in her normal state Amy can hardly keep her hands off me (who could?), but out of sheer boredom, yesterday I was inspired to grow a moustache for at least a week or until she is feeling 100 percent. So I dedicate this moustache to you, babe.

Unfortunately, virtually nobody appreciates a good moustache any more, and there are very few who can pull it off aside from cops and former porn stars. It makes me wish I had lived through more than four months of the seventies. I mean, everyone had one then. It was sexy; so help me God, it was sexy! And it's the only full-length facial hair I can pull off without looking like Joe Dirt. So here is my ode to the fashionable look of yesteryear and its many varieties.

Now, you can't tell me that's not cool. Daniel Day-Lewis abides. And he created two movie icons, Bill the Butcher and Daniel Plainview. I can only wish I were that awesome.

Okay, the handlebar. It only works for cowboys and bikers, but this guy is bringing sexy back.

And of course, the walrus. This doesn't work for me since my sideburns are sparse, but I would love to try it. There are so many possibilities. From Ned Flanders to Goose Gossage to Ron Burgundy, the world is much more manly with moustaches. Let us not forget.

The Embarrassment Olympics

This post is brought to you in honor of the Olympics, which I haven't watched a minute of except for a few minutes during the opening ceremonies wondering why k.d. lang was performing "Hallelujah" and wondering why k.d. lang was the biggest star they could get to perform.  Then I saw Steve Nash, and I was like, "Oh yeah!  They have to use their people!"  I mean, after ice hockey and Alex Trebek, what has Canada given the world?  Anyway, I haven't done a survey in almost six months, and I think this one is gonna be a humdinger.  I am even offering a prize.  I want to know your most embarrassing moment.  The winner gets their very own Tony Montana talking keychain.  The contest lasts through the end of the month (which is Sunday), so tell your friends.  I want at least twenty entries.  They don't have to be regular visitors to the blog, or even know me.

I have to say, I'm kinda hard to embarrass.  If I do something outrageous that wasn't on purpose, I do a pretty good job of laughing about it.  But that wasn't always the case.  I was pretty self-conscious growing up.  The story that comes to mind happened when I was 14 and our church took a waterboating trip to nearby Willard Bay with all the young men and women.  I took my turn, and I felt the wake ripping my trunks off, but was unable to let go because another kid was using the same tube and had his arm across mine.  Eventually we wiped out, and we switched off.  The leader who had been driving asked, "Do you want to get in?"  I remained silent and sat there just kinda drifting and hoping they would forget about me and let me drown with dignity.  Making things worse was that my number one junior high crush was in the boat, and the water was cold, so if she got the full monty, I wouldn't be at my, ahem, best.  Then a lady drove her boat up holding the offending trunks up and asked the passengers if they belonged to someone there.  I became a punchline even for those who hadn't witnessed it.  As years have passed, I've developed the ability to laugh at my own expense, even more so than I do at others.  But I still want to laugh at you, too.  This is a celebration of pain and humiliation.  Ladies and gentlemen, the floor is yours...

A Movie Worth Checking Out

I really dig Jeff Bridges. And I love authentic country music (not to be confused with most of the crap that comes out of Nashville), and Western movies and Old West lore. It just so happens that Bridges has two roles within a year of each other with a Western theme (the next one being a remake of True Grit). Crazy Heart has been the only movie on my radar for quite some time. I did eventually cave to the Avatar hype, and found the hullabaloo maddeningly but predictably overdone. And today, for the second President's Day in a row, I took off a few hours early for a matinee. It's not exactly flying under the radar, since Bridges is the favorite to win the Oscar for Best Actor next month, so I won't try to pretend I discovered it like Oprah, and I won't be too long-winded, but I will recommend it, and provide you with some music from Ryan Bingham, who wrote most of the film's music (which was sadly unavailable on Playlist; Google The Weary Kind or watch the Crazy Heart trailer to hear the theme song), and who I've been familiar thanks to my cowboy friend Kyle. At any rate, I wasn't sure how to feel about the film's ending at first, since it's not the standard predictable neat finish, but after marinating a little, I think it was perfect. At any rate, I hope everyone got plenty of nookie over the Valentine's weekend. Have a great short workweek, and see you soon with a survey I have been putting together. Invite your friends! Ciao.

P.S. Just one interesting side note. Colin Farrell plays a country singer in Crazy Heart. And amazingly, he pulls off not only the accent, but the singing. So, major props to our favorite drunken Irish lout.

Ever Feel Like This?

This is a pretty good depiction of me in January.  The whole month pretty much sucked.  And most of it was due to sickness.  Not my own, but Amy's morning sickness.  Yes, yes, we are with child.  Anyway, we've been through this twice before, but I swear it wasn't this bad.  Amy has just been lying in a puddle of her own drool for most of the year.  And I've had to do a lot more around the house.  And there's no throwing the boys (who are the people responsible for most of the Ground Zero our house has become) into the backyard to play, because it's winter and we just have to be, like, responsible parents.  It's such a crock.  I feel bad because I haven't risen to the occasion willingly.  I have made some strides with my business, but my mood has been foul, and I'm past ready to get this behind us, but fear that February will be more of the same.  So here and now, I'm vowing to at least make myself better.  Crossfitting regularly to get into shape (which I am finally motivated for now that I've fallen in love with basketball again), waking up at 6:30 on weekdays, and I might even start blogging on a regular basis.  Today is actually one year since I started this thing, and this is my 54th post, which isn't awful, but I had only done nine in the past six months.  I am amazed I even have 4-5 followers anymore.

On the bright side...

We dumped our dog.  I know, it sounds cruel to take such delight in it, but anyone who ever met Ike knows that he's super-needy, to the point that he had become like an unwanted child. He was basically dumped in our laps when we bought our house, and the thought of having a dog was really fun for a while.  He was great at playing and lap-sitting.  But the last month we had him, I could barely restrain myself from getting medieval on him.  Not a good thing.  I really tortured myself over it, feeling like a failure because I've always been such a dog-lover, yet had such strong impulses to punt the wiener dog, and thought dumping him would be a failure, like a divorce from a valued family member.  I felt guilty about never falling in love or bonding strongly with him.  The only conclusion I can come to is that getting a pet, for me, has to be a conscious decision, unless we're talking about one charming mothereffing pig. (Those of you who have seen Pulp Fiction may appreciate this).  In almost a year and a half, Ike never calmed down or shut up, was constantly pestering and begging, and couldn't handle being by himself.  I assume the breed has a lot to do with it, something we didn't research until after we had him.  The original owners dumped him for the same reason, but I always figured we could accommodate his needs and that he'd be a welcome addition.  He is now four years old and has bounced around to at least three different homes.  I wish him well, but also say good riddance. I'm taking the next three years off to concentrate solely on my other demanding creatures, and then we'll see what happens.  At any rate, see you again soon with another survey or amusing anecdote.

Adolf Hitler Stars as Sam Fox, Elders Quorum President

Happy Martin Luther King Day! Whether you're working today or not, this is just a little piece of humor for anyone who doesn't mind humor involving the mastermind of the Holocaust, or poking fun at Mormon culture. I found it funny and hope you do too. On the commentary following the original post on YouTube, everybody weighs in on why it's offensive and I mean everybody. You've got the bitter ex-Mormons, super-sensitive politically correct blowhards who think that Adolf should never be made light of, and the extremely pious LDS who find it a horrible tragedy that anyone could find humor in someone not getting 100 percent on hometeaching. Don't be shy about expressing your own opinions. Anyway, have a great day, wherever you are.

Getting Beaten With the Ugly Stick

Okay, this is really mean, but earlier today I saw an ad for ANOTHER Sex and the City movie, and I just can't stand it anymore.  Not just the movie (although that series always sent me running and screaming), but the question I have never dared ask in a public forum until now is: Does anyone out there find Sarah Jessica Parker even a little bit attractive?  As a ten-year old, I actually thought she was kind of cute in Flight of the Navigator, before anyone knew who she was, but she seems to have gotten exponentially worse up to the trailer for her latest movie, which has me convinced she might be in my personal bottom 2 percent of all people on earth for comeliness.  The changes don't appear to be drug-related like Lindsay Lohan and other formerly hot A-listers, and I'm not talking about the normal effect of aging on the body; I think Helen Mirren is still pretty hot at 64.  I am generally pretty reserved about calling people ugly, but for over a decade, Hollywood has been trying to tell me how hot she is, and it's really messed with my head.  Is there anyone else who belongs in this category?  I find all of the Sex and the City skanks to be fairly unattractive, but SJP belongs in her own stratosphere.  I hate to devote an entire post to this, but I need to know if there are people I know who actually disagree with me, and if so, what is it that makes her irresistible?  Is it the horsey face?  Her bony frame?  Or the gigantic mole?  Anybody?