Life in the Stupid Lane

I didn’t have time to blog Friday about my diet. I’ll explain why in a second.    Thursday I went to a potluck at Coach Crystal’s house—Crystal, I am so jealous of your house—with some other friends that are doing the Fuel 21 diet with me.

 

We were all supposed to make a dish and bring it to the potluck.  Obviously I was pretty nervous about doing this.  You’d think it was because I would be embarrassed about making something that looked and tasted terrible, but no, that wasn’t it at all.

 

Everyone in this program is similar to Coach Crystal in the sense that they are 98% rainbows, smiley faces, and hugs, so I knew, even if what I made looked and smelled like I fished it out of a dumpster 5 minutes before coming to Crystal’s house, they would all be polite, try it, and say it was good.  So what I was really afraid of was killing 6 new friends with some type of horrible ailment that inevitability would be traced back to my prepared dish…

 

To avoid committing mass involuntary manslaughter(I think that is what I’d be charged with if my food killed a lot of people), I bought prearranged kebabs from a butcher’s shop called The Meat House—yeah, insert nasty joke here.  I simply had to put the kebabs into an oven and leave them to bake at 400 degrees for a while.  There was a small chance of E-coli or Mad Cow disease taking some of my friends out, but I was far more concerned with burning the food than anything else.

 

For me, “a while” is not a unit of time I can really measure, so I really had no idea how long to cook let them cook.  Eventually I just took them out when they looked good and hoped for the best.  Thankfully, from watching Gordon Ramsey yell at people on TV, I do know you don’t serve chicken pink.  So I cut one kebab open and it looked ok.

 

Well, it turns out my kebabs did in fact kill two people, but six others who ate them lived.  So I am going to go ahead an assume it was something else they ate that killed them and chalk this cooking adventure up as a culinary success.  FYI, if I invite you over for dinner, be sure that I am getting take out, having someone else cook, or you are looking for a way to cash in your life insurance policy so that someone you love can collect a dump truck full of money, because you most likely will die from my cooking…  I am guessing that last comment makes me irresistible to women!

 

After getting over the shock of someone dying at the potluck–it only took about 5 minutes, there was another surprise.  Coach Crystal made butternut squash soup, which sounded horrible to me when she told me about it a few days prior to the potluck.  Squash is one of those vegetables I imagine you eat when you live in a communist controlled country, not in America.  In America, here we have vegetables like pizza sauce—THANK YOU CONGRESS!

 

So when Crystal offered me a bowl of the soup, I was hesitant to try it, even though it smelled good, it was an orangeish brownish color that brought back horrible childhood memories of when my crazy vegetarian Grandma made food for me when I had to visit her. To this day I am still of the belief that it was a combination of whatever mail she had lying around in her spooky old house, unwashed turnips from her garden (also known as her animals litter box), and possibly a stray raccoon that had the misfortune of wandering close enough to Grandma’s house to be caught and killed by her dog.

 

Still, I didn’t want to offend Coach Crystal, so I tried the soup.  I found it had passed the first test; I didn’t vomit on myself or anyone else.  That is when the shocking part happened.  I liked it and not in the way I’ll sometimes humor pretty girls by saying I like whatever it is they are offering me, I really liked it.  I actually ate two bowls.  Crazy Grandma would be so jealous of Coach Crystal.

 

The only explanation I have for this change in preference for vegetables is that this diet has somehow mutated my brain, taste buds, or both.  I am pretty sure I already had brain damage before starting this diet, so I have assumed this diet had mutated me into some type of X-Man!

 

I had to test this theory out pretty quickly to see what other mutant powers I might have now possessed. So I ran home and started experimenting.

 

Here is what I have learned:

 

1. Flying power—Nope. Jumped off the roof of my house, swan dived into the 6 foot tall agave cactus with razor sharp tentacles that I have in my front yard.  Where upon I broke a couple dozen bones and cut myself up so badly that it is a miracle I didn’t bleed to death.

 

2. Invulnerability—Nope. Broke..well, everything and cut myself up pretty badly from discovering I can’t fly.

 

3. Super healing—Nope, bones are still broekn and I none of my cuts have sealed themselves up instantly like in the movies.

 

4. Super Strength—Nope. Tried to take out my anger from failing to fly, be invulnerable, or heal myself by ripping the cactus out of the ground with my good arm. All I did was pull a muscle.  Really wishing I had invulnerability or super healing at that point.

 

5. Super Intelligence—Not a chance in hell!  No one with super human intelligence would have jumped off a roof into an agave cactus…without the influence of alcohol or maybe a hot girl wanting to see him do it.  Because even with super intelligence, guys are still dumb around hot girls.

 

 

On Friday another unexpected discovery happened.

 

My office catered breakfast and brought in donuts from Shipleys.  There were about six hundred. I sat and counted each on a few times… Normally when breakfast is catered it is put in one of the break rooms of a floor above me.  Now, seeing as how I don’t have the mutant ability to fly, I am generally too lazy to walk upstairs to get any free breakfast most Fridays.

 

However, on this morning, they decided to put the donuts in the break room directly across from my office.  So I spent 4 hours, 4 very long, very awkward hours staring at donuts I wasn’t supposed to eat.

 

During hour one I tried to avoid looking at the donuts by crawling under my desk, putting on my head phones, listening to Florance + The Machine, and crying. I figured that if I couldn’t see them, I wouldn’t want them.  This sort of freaked out most of my co-workers, having to hear me cry under my desk, but none of them said anything.

 

During hour two I had stopped crying and was now screaming at the donuts to get the hell away from me or I’d kill them with a pair of scissors I had been wielding in my hands menacingly ever since I crawled out from under my desk.  This started to scare my co-workers finally and most of them gave me a wide birth if they had to walk by my office.

 

There is nothing odd about a grown man with eyes red from crying, yelling at a box of donuts while wielding a sharp object, is there?

 

During hour three all my co-workers now looked like giant, walking, talking donuts.  I just stared at them with hungry eyes as I licked my lips slowly, imagining tackling and eating them whole .  This got a call put into HR and I am sure some type of reprimand will be coming eventually.

 

By hour four I had caved in and eaten 2 donuts in 3 seconds.  I don’t know if I even chewed the second donut. I may have just swallowed it whole like a snake eating a mouse.  Worse than the fact that I didn’t really get to enjoy the donuts because I ate them so fast, was that the only donuts left to eat by this time were the pink sprinkle covered donuts… which sort of suck anyway.

 

So why couldn’t I blog about this sooner?  Well, because after eating just two donuts, I felt so bad for 3 days that I thought I might die.  Death by donuts use to be my dream death, but it always involved eating till I exploded and Anne Hathaway was always around for some reason (celebrity crush and all).  This was actually painful and was not how I wanted to die.

 

Just 3 weeks ago, 2 donuts would have been a warm up to a real breakfast of 12 donuts. Like stretching before exercising. Now, if I eat one I want to die?  No one told me about these types of dieting side affects.  What happens if I eat pizza?  Will my legs fall of?  If I have a bowl of cereal will I get Ebola? I’m afraid if I mess up on this diet now, even slightly, I am going to die.  If so, burry me in  a casket filled with Krispy Kream please.  I’ll eat them in the afterlife.  Angels—yes, I am assuming I’ll be made an angel when I die.  Why do you doubt that!?!—don’t have to diet, right?

 

Also, in case anyone was wondering.  One cactus was very much harmed in the making of this blog.  Not because I took a swan dive onto it, it was harmed because I got mad that it hurt me and burned it to the ground with gasoline and matches!

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After making some of my other posts, I have had some funny and nice offers to help, some questions, and some girl I don’t know spamming my comments page with messages about how I am a monster for eating steak.  Here is my response to her.  I think it is very elegant…

 

Dear Vegetable Lady who clearly hates me for no good reason,

 

The food I eat poops on the food you eat… Think about that.  Also, haven’t you seen the Lion King?  This is the circle of life.  Mufasa told me this was ok.  And if an anthropomorphic lion with Darth Vadder’s voice tells me it is ok to eat animals, then who am I to argue? 

 

Sincerely,

A Meat Eater

 

Now, back to the diet.

 

I have received a couple questions from friends and readers about this diet.  The most common one is, “What exactly is this diet?” Looking back, I guess I forgot to actually explain that part.

 

Basically, it is a diet where you don’t eat grain based carbohydrates, diary, sugar, legumes (this is a fancy word for beans), or soy.  What you do eat is somewhere in the range of 30 percent protein, 40 to 50 percent vegetables, 20 to 30 percent fat, and a little fruit.  If you are like me, you had a few reservations about this or were already forming an argument against this diet in your head as you read the rules.

 

I got into a few arguments with Coach Crystal about eating grains.  Most of them went like this:

 

Me—No grains!?  Are you insane?  I’ll die

 

Coach Crystal—No you won’t.  Studies have been done that link grains to many physical, emotional, and medical issues most of us deal with on a day to day basis.  Like obesity, inflammation, and digestive problems.

 

Me—But grains are good! Are you insane? I’ll die!

 

Coach Crystal—No you won’t, we just have to get your body use to eating more primal foods.

 

Me—Pizza is primal, right?

 

Coach Crystal—Sorry, but no.

 

Me—But grains are good!  Are you insane? I’ll die!

 

Coach Crystal—Just give it a shot for 30 days and lets see if you don’t look and feel better.

 

Me—But grains are good!  I’ll die!

 

Coach Crystal—Is that the only argument you have?  Can you not think of anything else to say?

 

Me—But grains are good!  Are you insane? I’ll die!
Coach Crystal—Just try it or I’ll kick your ass!  I might be 98% smiley faces, rainbows, and hugs, but do what I say or you’ll see what that last 2% is made of.

 

Me—Yes ma’am

 

So I have been trying it and Coach Crystal is right.  I do feel better.  I am not going to say that I look better, at least not on a public blog because that would  come off as incredibly arrogant but……well, I do look better, leaner, and that odd smell I had that use to chase people away is gone.  (Only one of those is a joke, can you figure out which one?)

 

Coach Crystal took measurements of all parts of our bodies when we started this program.  On Day 21, I’ll go ahead and list those numbers and maybe a before and after picture, not sure.  I haven’t lost much weight myself, but I am actually not trying to.  I am pretty lean already. What I am hoping to do is lose body fat and until I can have Coach Crystal measure that for me—yeah, she pinches me with calipers and it is as awkward as you can imagine—I won’t know how much fat I have lost.  I am hoping it will be 4% or more and I’ll then begin my career as a Calvin Klein underwear model…

 

If you are wondering if it really works though, here is what Coach Crystal looks like.  I am pretty sure she is in as good of shape as anyone I know.  Pretty hare to argue with those results. Also, for those who are about to ask, no, I wont hook you up with her.  I don’t think she is single, sorry guys.

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

My little brother and mom have both decided to try this diet with me too and each of them have lost more than 10 pounds, so weight loss is an obtainable goal usually.  I say usually, because I already can picture the one or two friends who will read this and say, “I’m going to try it and lose 100 pounds in a month!”  Listen stupid—you know who you are—you can’t lose that kind of weight that fast.  It is healthy eating, not sorcery.

 

The other question that I have gotten a lot is, “What do you eat” or “Isn’t what you eat boring now?”

 

The simple answer is no.

 

But more specifically, there are a ton of things you can still eat.  Diary isn’t that big of a deal.  Yes, almost everyone likes milk or ice cream or cheese, but you can live without them.   If you just said to yourself, “No, I can’t live without my queso,” or “No, I’ll die without my 44 ounce chocolate milk shake from What-a-burger” then you are a fat kid for sure.  You also are going to most likely be stricken with diabetes in the future.  If you want some help with that too, call me…  Keep in mind, we are the only mammals on earth that drink milk past infancy.  There might be something to that.

 

I eat a lot of steak, chicken, hamburger patties, turkey, bacon, bison, and fish.  Then cook some type of vegetable or make a salad.  I also have some fat in there, usually bacon or almonds and usually have some blue berries to finish it off.

 

Coach Crystal says, “Eat across the animal kingdom.”  I am trying to do that, but even the yuppie grocery stores don’t sell bald eagle, pterodactyl, leprechaun, Care Bear, and pizza-chicken (A chicken that smells and tastes like pizza but is the same nutritional value as chicken).  So I can’t eat across the whole animal kingdom just yet.  I’m getting close though.

 

Does anyone know how you catch a Care Bear?

 

I do miss grains or more specifically, donuts, cake, apple turnovers, chips, french fries, hot dog buns, deep fried everything, funnel cake, Hot Tamales candy, sausage biscuits, waffles, pancakes, been and cheese tacos, cheese cake, carrot cake, packs of straight sugar, blow pops, chocolate covered anything,  corn bread, pizza, fried chicken, chicken fried steak, chicken fried chicken, chicken fried anything actually, kohlaches, cinnamon rolls, corn dogs, tatter tots, burritos, anything from Free Birds, ice cream sandwiches, cotton candy (haven’t eaten this in years, but want it even more now), and apple pie.

 

Everything on that list above I loved to eat just a few months ago, which is really sad because as a diabetic, everything on that list could potentially kill me.  In fact, it might be a miracle I am still alive today….

 

 

 

 

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In an attempt to start cooking for myself more regularly, I went to a grocery store that has “clean” food.  Which I learned means vegetables without chemicals, meat with out hormones, animals that get to run around as they please, and other adjectives for food that I haven’t ever really cared about.

 

So, finding out that this kind of food isn’t regularly sold at “normal” grocery stores, I ventured over to a yuppie grocery store.  Upon entering, I knew I had made a mistake.  First off, I appeared woefully under dressed to shop here.  Normally I can go anywhere in shorts, converse, and a t-shirt, but here it seemed you either needed a pair of skinny jeans, a sports coat, or an ascot.  In many cases, most shoppers had all three.

 

My suspicions were confirmed shortly there after, when an employee approached me and offered me a complimentary shopping jacket and ascot.  I politely declined and made my way deeper into the store, in search of the butcher’s counter.

 

When I got the the butcher’s counter, I had to take a number and wait.  When my number was finally called, a guy wearing a butcher’s apron, splattered with what I assume was animal blood and wearing an ascot asked, “What can I get you?”

 

“What is the price on your New York Strip?”

 

“37 dollars a pound.”

 

“What,”I asked, thinking I had to have heard him wrong. “Did you say 37 dollars a pound!?”

 

“Yes sir.  These here,” pointing to a piece of meat that looked just like every other piece of meat I have ever seen at a butcher’s counter, “is 100 percent grass fed beef.”

 

“As opposed to what? Pudding fed beef?”

 

“Sir, this is the cleanest beef in the world.  I should also point out that the grass the steers are fed is only watered with Fiji bottled water.”

 

“That is stupid.  How much for pudding fed beef? Preferably chocolate pudding.”

 

He rolled his eyes at me, “3 dollars a pound.”

 

“I’ll take that.”

 

After getting my steak, I needed seasoning for it so that it didn’t taste like a flip flop–maybe a chocolate pudding flavored flip flop depending on what my steer ate before being butchered…  So I wandered around the store’s aisles looking for the spices section.

 

Now it isn’t as though a grocery store is a foreign country where I can’t read any of the signs, but that is how it felt when I walked down some of these aisles at this grocery store.

 

Of the first 3 aisles I walked down, on the sign above the aisle, telling you what was stocked in that aisle, I only recognized two items; hemp and scones.  There were things like Ghee, polentas, sea beans, kohlrabi, cocoa nibs, and Yerba Mate.  Seriously, those were actually things listed on the signs.  I had to use my Iphone to figure out if I was in a section that salt might be in.  I wasn’t, but eventually found the right aisle.

 

There was another store employee in this aisle too, but he was preoccupied with someone else, and didn’t notice me.  I looked through the spices and picked out a few of the ones I recognized: chilli powder, basil, oregano, and cumin.  Finally I got to the salt and was shocked to see that the cheapest salt they had was 200 dollars!  I turned to the employee, who had just finished helping the other customer and asked if there was a mistake in the pricing.

 

“Oh, no sir.  Those prices are right.”

 

“How can your salt be so expensive, it is just salt,” i protested.

 

“Just salt,” he said stunned as if I had just made fun of his ascot. “No sir, it isn’t just salt.  This here,” he pointed to one row of salt,”is deconstructed salt. It is the latest in salt.”

 

“Deconstructed salt?”

 

“Yes, it is salt reduced down to its basic components, so that you can taste them individually. It is all the rage in Europe.”

 

“So you are basically selling sodium and chloride?  If I’m not mistaken those are poisonous in their raw forms.”

 

“No they aren’t, they’re more healthy this way.”

 

“No, I am pretty sure they’d kill you.”

 

“Well fine then, if you are not evolved enough to understand the amazingness of decontructed salt, we have other options,” he said pointing to a small bottle wrapped in gold foil. “This is a more traditional salt.”

 

“Thank you. How much is it?”

 

“1900 dollars.”

 

“What the hell!?  Why? How could salt be so f*ing expensive?”

 

“Because sir,”he said rolling his eyes slightly,” this salt is extracted from the dried up tears of unicorns.”

 

“Are you retarded? Unicorns, really?”

 

“Yes, unicorns.  It is very exclusive.”

 

“Don’t you have just normal, everyday, table salt?” He looked at me the same way a normal person would look at someone who just told them they got salt from the tears of unicorns.

 

“I don’t think so sir.  Maybe try What-a-burger across the street?”

 

“Thanks…”

 

Being pretty annoyed at this point, I walked towards the produce section, determined to get some spinach for a salad and then get the hell out of this horrible place.  Of course it wasn’t going to be that simple though.  When I got to the produce section, an employee was just stocking the shelve with vegetables of all sorts. I looked around for the spinach, but didn’t see any anywhere.

 

“Excuse me sir, but do you all carry spinach,” I asked and immediately regretted this question when the stocker turn and acknowledged me.  He too was wearing an ascot…

 

“Spincah you say?  Of course we have spinach, it is the best spinach in the world.”

 

“Oh yeah,” I said laughing politely at his cheery comment. “And why is that?”

 

“Because it is grown in Narnia, picked fresh, and flown in weekly.”

 

“Oh for God’s sake….  Did you just say Narnia?”

 

“Yes sir, have you tried it?  They have the best spinach in the world.”

 

“Of course I haven’t tried it.  Narnia is make believe.  It is the setting of C.S. Lewis’ childrens books.”

 

“Oh, no sir, I think you are confusing Narnia with Harry Potter.”

 

“And I think you are confusing Narnia with China.”

 

This was the point I had had enough and put my small shopping basket down, turned, and walked towards the exit.

 

“Sir,” the stocker yelled to me, “you forgot your food.  Where are you going?”

 

“Back to reality!”

 

 

 

 

 

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On day 8, I should say the diet is going better because I haven’t hurt anyone drinking diet coke, I haven’t eaten a flip flop, nor I have done cocaine.  I have stopped talking to muffins and other delicious grain based treats and I have only once cried at the sight of candy.  So that is good, right?

 

All kidding aside, this diet has actually been pretty impressive.  Being a type 1 diabetic, I have taken the same range of insulin with every meal for the last 12 years of my life.  Since starting to eat a paleo diet, I now take one-third the amount of insulin I use to.  That is pretty impressive.  Granted, the results I was hoping for were to be diabetes free, have perfect abs, and be able to dunk a basketball over Dwight Howard, while jumping from the free throw line, but this turn of events is still pretty good.  Give me a couple more weeks, and who knows what could happen.

 

I still can’t cook, but thankfully I was introduced to a place called Snap Kitchen.  They have premade paleo meals that don’t look or taste like flip flops at all.  Granted, they are a bit pricey, but at the moment, it is either shell out the money for these or eat food that I have cooked myself. Which would be considered by most people to be of poorer quality than week old Taco Bell.  I did finally get a few recipes from my buddy Rich that don’t use subjective units of measurement (I still don’t know what a smidge is), so hopefully I’ll be able to make something edible soon.  I need someone to figure out a paleo frito pie for me.  Either that or someone needs to go back in time and introduce cheese to the cave men, so that cheese can’t be excluded from the paleo diet.

 

I will say there has been one other immediate benefit to this Fuel 21 program.  Coach Crystal gave us these little white wrist bands to wear, that say, “Fuel 21″ on them.  I thought it was just a fashion accessory or maybe something that might help me do a muscle up (look it up), but that probably isn’t the case.  It might be used as a reminder to help keep a person on track during moments of weakness, by looking at it?  What it really needs to do is cut off the blood flow to my hand when I reach for a cookie.  That would be an effective deterrent–patten bending! Regardless of what it is meant to do or should do, what it has done is start conversations with cute girls at Whole Foods, who are really into healthy eating/living.

 

They usually ask things like, “Isn’t eating healthy just so much more rewarding than filling your body with poison?”  I really should have realized that these are rhetorical questions, but because I haven’t had sugar or caffeine in what seems like forever, I of course answer honestly.  “Well, no not really.  This all natural food is expensive as hell and while coconut water might be great for you, it tastes a hell of  a lot more like poison to me than Diet Coke or Krispy Kream ever did.”  As you can imagine, that is about the end of the conversation.  Thankfully, I still have my wrist band to keep me company….

 

One last note:  So that coach Crystal–98% rainbows, smiley faces, and hugs–doesn’t kick my ass for appearing to make fun of her program, I will honestly admit that this isn’t really that hard–cooking still is–and the results are pretty impressive.  After getting past the caffeine headaches when I gave up diet coke, I actually have a lot more energy, feel better, I am told look a little better, and am doing better in Crossfit.  If you want to learn more, email me or something.

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With this diet, there was one thing I wasn’t prepared for.  I am pretty sure you can assume what that is; cooking.  I am a terrible cook.  In fact, there are only three instances where I could be considered a good cook.  There is the times when I lie to a girl about how well I can cook so as to impress them (this doesn’t actually make me a good cook in any other realm but my imagination…..and I am kidding, I’d never lie to a girl about what I am capable of.  Guys don’t ever do that…), when I am making a cheese cake, or when I am making my specialty–Frito Pie.  Sadly, I have learned that cavemen didn’t have cheese cake or frito pie back in the time of the dinosaurs, so I can’t cook or eat either of them.

 

Because Coach Crystal has asked us nicely–even though she is 98% rainbows, smiley faces, and hugs, she is in good enough shape to be able to use that remaining 2% to kick my ass if I don’t follow her instruction–to avoid eating out for the 21 days of her program, I have had to “try” and cook most meals.  And just so we are clear, in my case, “try” is a synonym for “fail miserably”.

 

Here are some of my “tries”:

 

1. Steak

 

I said in a prior post that I made steak and it didn’t go well.  So I tried again. I seared it first and filled my house with smoke.  Then I baked in it the oven with some seasoning for about 15 minutes.  When I pulled it out, I dropped it on the floor…  I didn’t have my contacts on, so when I went to pick it up by stabbing a fork into it, I actually grabbed my leather flip flop instead.  I am pretty blind normally, but it has to be a bad indication of your culinary skills when you can’t tell the difference between your steak and your flip flop.

 

2. Moroccan Chicken Soup

 

I got this recipe from my mom and I figured chicken soup should be simple enough to make, regardless of what country it was from.  Turns out I was wrong…very wrong, but not for the reasons you’d expect from me.  The problem was in the instructions, there were measurements like “a pinch”, “a dash”, “a bit”, and “a smidge”.  What the hell is a smidge?  Is that a degree of measurement? Is it a stain on my t-shirt?  Smidge sounds like a nick name my grandpa would have given my grandma.   I honestly thought that this recipe might have been written by a coke addicted, because pinch, dash, bit, and smidge all sound like amounts of cocaine a drug dealer would sell.

 

I never actually made the soup because I never could decide how much cocaine to add to my soup….

 

3. Meatzza

 

I bet you are doing exactly what I did when I saw the word Meatzza.  You are asking yourself, “what the hell is meatzza?”  Turns out meatzza is some kind of crappy paleo alternative to pizza.  You make the crust out of baked meat and almond floor and some other things I can’t even pronounce to make a crust, then put pizza toppings on that to make what has to be the worlds worst pizza…..other than CiCi’s.  So no surprise here, but I’d rather do a smidge of cocaine while eating my flip flop than try this crap.

 

Even though cooking still isn’t going well yet, I’ll keep trying.  I have found that my imagination has gone nuts with ideas for foods I am no longer allowed to eat, nor should anyone ever try to make.  Here are a couple:

 

1. Candydonutpizzastuffedbaconlinkpizzaspegattihoggiewrapwithcheeseburger….

 

That is a donut stuffed with candy corn, then stuffed into a pepperoni pizza hot pocket, wrapped in bacon (friend crispy of course), stuffed into a pot of spaghetti, placed on a hoggie roll, wrapped in a buffalo chicken wrap from McAllisters, and stuck between a cheese burger.  Delicious?  Only if you’ve had a smidge of cocaine….

 

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F*ing diet!  I am pretty sure I have gone insane from not having the things I am almost certain I need to survice: diet coke, sugar, bread, queso, sweet bread covered in queso dipped in diet coke, diet coke flavored queso bread, sugar….oh sweet, glorious, beautiful SUGAR!!!

 

Before I either slip into complete madness or die from this diet (yeah, that might be a bit dramatic), I’ll share with you some of my more lucid observations from eating “healthy”.

 

1. I have already lost o bit of body fat in just a few days.

 

2. Even though I seem to be going insane, when I am coherent, I seem to be really focused.

 

3. I am kicking diabetes ass!

 

4. I haven’t spent my allotted $1800 dollars on diet coke this month

 

5. I have realized that drinking water won’t kill me.

 

So those are some good things I observed during moments of lucidity.  Sadly, those are few and far between.  Now let me tell you what I have observed while going bat shit crazy without my comfort foods.

 

1. If I thought a baby had a candy filled center like a tootsie pop, I would bust open the first baby I saw to get at that sugary goodness.   Anyone need a baby sitter?

 

2. I am pretty sure I can speak to bread products.  I sat and had a 20 minute conversation with the muffin basket in my office’s break room about why I couldn’t eat them.  They called me a few dirty names and then laughed at me for being weak.  So I yelled at them to shut up before putting them in the microwave for 9 minutes on high and yelled, “who is weak now!” as they died.

 

3. As certain of a zombie apocalypse as I am, I never thought for a  second that I would be the one to start it.  But without any diet coke in my blood stream for 4 days, I had an overwhelming compulsion to bit my office mate.  She is showing signs of being part of the walking dead now too.  Humanity, I am sorry.

 

4. I have drank more water in the last 3 days than I thought was possible.  Now that I know I can push myself like this, I am pretty sure I am indestructible and have entered myself in a MMA fight, a knife fight at a bar, a bull riding competition, and plan to be one of those circus freaks who gets shot in the stomach with a cannon ball.

 

So this diet is going to be fun.  I hope I don’t die or kill a baby or a muffin or someone else.

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