Incentive for Fat Guys
Tuesday, July 24, 2007

So according to a study by a doctor who appeared on Oprah (so he MUST be good,) if a male loses 35 pounds from his midsection, he will actually GAIN 1 inch of penis. The penis doesn't actually grow, but as the fat flab at the lower gut flattens out, and up to an inch more of useable penis is exposed.

This does, however, create a much higher level of preoccupation with the penis for the male, so I imagine the inch gained in length results in a decrease in everyday social awareness, intelligence and maturity. So the question I'm struggling with is: do I want Jon to do more sit-ups or eat more nachos?

This is going to take some serious decision-making.

Crap I Didn't Study
Sunday, July 22, 2007

I think everyone has had this dream at some point in their life:

You're in school, and it's exam time. You're sitting in your math/english/history class, and that's when it hits you: Oh my God. I haven't been to this class, well, EVER. I never did any of the homework, never took any tests! My future DEPENDS on whether or not I graduate from high school/college/secretarial school and there is NO WAY I will graduate because I have NO IDEA how to do any of the stuff on this final exam!!

Then you wake up, and you feel this amazing sense of relief wash over you, and you smile and thank whatever higher power you thank in these types of situations, if any, and then you roll over and go back to sleep.

I had one of those experiences the other night, but my dreaming mind decided to take it a step further.

Instead of an algebra or english exam, I found myself in a classroom where my professor announced that for our final exam, we were going to be dropped in the middle fo a war zone. No food, no water, no protection. In order for us to pass the exam, we had to find our way back to the United States based on all the maps we had been ordered to memorize over the course of the year. Also, in order for us not to be raped and slaughtered by the natives in the area, we had to BECOME a native by calling upon the skills and profiles we were taught about how to live among them without being detected as a foreigner - act like them, use their language, eat the right foods, wear the right costumes. As a woman, there were many extra rules and regulations we needed to obey, and if we disregarded any of these rules, we "were well aware what fate would befall us."

"Holy crap," my dream-self thought. "I didn't even know this class was on my schedule." I looked around the room frantically to see if I could borrow a map from one of my classmates, but everyone was already wearing their final exam costumes, maps already committed to memory.

"Holy crap," I thought again. "I am fucked."

Lucky for me, I awoke right before we boarded the military aircraft. Then I rolled over and fell back to sleep and had that dream where I'm at an Old Country Buffet and I eat everything in the restaurant. The best part of that dream is, again, waking up and realizing I had just gorged myself without ingesting one single calorie. I love that dream.

A Word About Perseverance
Monday, July 16, 2007

I was out on the porch watering my (singular) plant, and that's when I saw it.

A spider had woven a web between the porch railing and our gas grill. And this wasn't just any web. This web was bigger than my head. There was row after row after row of intricately woven silk. I sat there and stared at it for a minute, because it was one of those cheesy glorious moments where if you tilted your head a centimeter to the left, you couldn't see it, but if you tilted your head back and the sun shone on it just right, it seemed to glisten. What amazed me even more, was that we had used the grill 2 days ago. So some spider had come along sometime within the last 48 hours and just started webbing, and probably didn't stop until it was done. I called to Jon and had him come outside.

"Look at this thing, " I said, pointing to the web.

"WOW!" (He really did say "wow" with honesty and enthusiasm, like he was Opie and Andy Griffith just handed him a quarter and told him to live it up.)

I shook my head. "You know, there is NO WAY that I'd ever be able to finish a project of that magnitude. If i could shoot silk out of my crotch, all I would probably do is see if I could smoke it. Or I'd shoot it into a pile and lay down on it and take a nap. As a human I'm useless."

Later on after dinner (which I made in a blender,) Jon was putting some dishes away and scared the crap out of me by yelling, "HEY, LOOK!"

I spun around mid-heart-attack, and he was pointing up at the ceiling. Hanging in the corner was a fuzzy, drippy, clump of spider web and dust. It looked like something I might have taken out of the dryer's lint trap and tried to stick to the wall.

"What is that?" I asked, trying to peer closer, assuming I was missing something.

"That," Jon said, "is the kind of web you would make if you could shoot webs out your crotch."

Fucker.