I want to write about this weekend’s Festival of Books experience, but before I go all nerdtastic on you, and continuing the “Where Are They Now” aspect to my posts lately (Michelle is working on an update about her mom for all y’all), I have to give excited props to my former roommate Ray, who spent yesterday running the OK City Marathon.
Dan. I want you to guess what Ray Prewitt did this morning.
Okay. He stole a boat and –
Hmm. Okay, he was making this television show about a –
He has this chicken and –
I am literally out of ideas, particularly if this has nothing to do with a chicken.
Today, as Ray rehashed the details to me, we realized that we were both lapped by the same hunchback. Which is awesome.
“Pam, I have to write about this, because I have to warn the world. Never run a marathon.”
“I know, Ray. I know.”
“Lady, it’s all your fault I did it in the first place. I figured, well, if Pam did something, it must be a good idea.”
“No, Ray. It hurts. I never tell people to run a marathon or write a book. They both hurt and take way too long.”
“But thank God there’s no second draft of a marathon.”
“My friend Andy once said to me, ‘I couldn’t possibly be interested in running one mile, much less twenty-six of them in a row.’ And I said, ‘That’s because you like yourself, and have nothing to prove.’”
“Oh, lady. Ain’t that the truth.”
Ray wrote about his experience, and boy can I relate. … except for the part where he likens the entire thing to being involved in extreme porn.
Longtime reader here. I was just wondering what happened to your friend Michelle Biloon, the one who used to run an advice column in your forum with her mother? Fun fact about Michelle: She once got her viewer mail answered on the Letterman program. True story!
Bigger Michelle Fan Than You
I did know that. I know everything about you, because I just created you as an excuse to brag that Michelle’s got a big article about how awesome she is in this week’s LA Weekly.
Hey, Pamie. Did you see the part where she totally dissed you?
I once spent an entire night doing my Michelle Biloon impression in front of people she hadn’t met before. I had that one coming.
I just bought a bottle of vodka at the liquor store. After handing over my purchase, the man behind the counter said to me, “See you tomorrow.”
… That can’t be a good sign.
(I’ve only been there twice!)
Miss Itty is fourteen years old. We have all waited patiently for her to reach maturity and know the touch of a man. A man named me. The time has come to start counting down to a time when the world will be able to have her as its own, on that day of her eighteenth birthday. After all, Miss Itty is a cat we all fancy.
Almost exactly one year ago, I came home for four days for my future sister-in-law’s bridal shower. Yes, I’m a boy and yes, I wasn’t reeeeeeeally invited, by my mom was feeling stressed about it and I had a tiny break between seasons of ANTM, so I hopped on a plane and spent the weekend on Long Island. It was April. It was so pretty out.
Since that weekend almost 365 days ago, I have gained over thirty pounds.
“Oh, no,” you may be thinking, “Dan is a monster. Let’s give him pamphlets about the dangers of morbid obesity and let’s give him coupons from Subway and then rename him ‘Chunk Fatori’ and laugh about him when he’s not in the room. Not that he’ll ever be entirely out of the room, because when you’re that big, you’re kind of close to everything all the time.” But don’t despair, fellow (though a bit catty, to be honest) reader. It’s not that I’m fat (at least not THAT fat) now, but rather that I was dangerously skinny then.
I was on a crazy diet at the time, and the second I went off of said crazy diet, I started to gain weight in a pounds-an-hour kind of way. This is not solely because I was on some uber-Atkins diet where I was allowed to have my first piece of bread and immediately gained twenty pounds; this was because as soon as I had the full arsenal of food available to me for the first time in over six months, I started eating like a freaking maniac. I was eating because I had to gain weight, which was the most astonishing concept of all time. It was like having unprotected sex in order to not get an STD. It didn’t make sense, but I was all about it.
This new world of eating like a monster led to nights like this:
And, perhaps most disturbingly, this:
Yes. That’s an entire container of Trader Joe’s raw cookie dough, which did not stay on the planet long enough even to see the inside of an oven. And that Cheetoh snow drift in the back? That got taken care of as well. Big time. My compliments to the craft services people at an old job of mine that I’m legally obligated not to mention.
Eric rebelled against this dangerous eating with great success during his 21-day detox, but I just kept on eating and eating and eating. When I started The World’s Most Stressful Job back in December, the thought of health and nutrition and certainly weight loss went right out the window. So I’ve been trying to run every day while I’ve been here, but it’s been a bit of challenge when the weather looks like this.
In fact, this is a picture of what it looks like outside of my window at this very moment.
Yeah, happy freaking springtime, everyone. And have a good run, Boston Marathon. Me, I’m back on the cookie dough diet because it’s the only thing that can keep me warm.
I’d rather hear the Beatles’ ‘Getting Better’ on a mix tape than on Sgt. Pepper any day. I’d rather hear a Frank Sinatra song between Run-DMC and Bananarama than between two other Frank Sinatra songs. When you stick a song on a tape, you set it free.
Happy Birthday, Jeff “Old Man” Long. Uncle Junior is wearing a party hat and not much else.
Dan, I miss you. Please come home soon.
Rebecca, I cannot wait to throw down at your wedding…but how will we ever top the “Muppet Blowjob“?
I usually go to at least one game in the spring, and it’s usually cold, but…dude. Tonight (the worst game ever, even if the Mets had won, which they DID NOT…seriously, look at how Philly scored those three runs in the third), the temperature went from late January to early March and the back again, and at the top of the fifth inning, it began to snow.
But here’s what baseball looked like right before IT STARTED TO SNOW: