It has taken me five months to write this message with my tongue. I lopped off some limbs in order to win. I did it! I'm better than all of you!

Each time I decide to take a new angle on the tedium that is weight loss, I delete the first 100 words, raid the pantry for a fist fulla baking chocolate and two packets of Splenda, down the goods with a swig of my one year old's carton of whole milk and return to my laptop where I click over to something that will spark my malnourished gray matter - middle school playground title bouts via YouTube is truly the new way to my heart.

Seriously nothing new to report. I'm down 5 elbees, but I should be rocking this shit. Instead I'm working.

Work is quite possibly the worst thing that could happen to someone who's losing weight. There's no time to worry about food. There's no time to work out. There's no time to think about NOT eating the dust-covered kahlua-filled truffle that's been hanging out in the break room since before Ho-Ho-Ho day. Work is buring calories and you're not getting up to get a healthy sammich. Work is all consuming. Work is underpaying. Work is no friend to the weight loser.

That being said, I'm undertaking some serious text these days and I need some help.

Offer: Any of you young, hungry writers interested in building your clip files for no compensation whatsoever should leave your e-mail address in the comments section in this blog. When I contact you I'll ask you to send me a 50-word bio of yerself and three of your writing samples. If your copy is decent, I'll hook you up with a writing assignment. Savvy?

This laxative idea was a bad idea.

Now I'm not sure if it's the drugs or a stomach bug, but I'm gonna have to stop this.

I'm also going to have to post a picture of me on the scale.

I'm down 5 elbees.

Word.

Perhaps a spot of exercise is in order.

News story on Yahoo Dot Com explains the domain name www.georgewbushlibrary.com was sold to the company developing Bushyboy's library Web site for $35,000.

It was bought for $10.

Nice foresight, moron.

My $160 will not contribute to paying off this debt.

Retard.

Just a quick note.

I think I'm up five elbees.

Some dirty rat sent us Harry & David truffles.

I've also had a lot of lunch meetings at steak houses.

Happy holidays, assholes.

Sincerely,

Management

There have been some missteps.

Was going to attempt a three-day fast. I know it's not the best way to accomplish this, but an old friend from college fasted for four days straight. He told me the second day was euphoric. He told me by the third day he felt suicidal.

Awesome.

I haven't made it past the first day. Actually, haven't made it past the first three hours.

I think tomorow I'll aim for four hours. Maybe.

By the way, does anyone else think the Whiteboard guy in the UPS commercials needs a goddamn haircut?

Food for thought (or, in this site's case, not food for thought).

On March 2, 2008, some bozo from About.com writes:

"Many of us wouldn't want to question unexplained weight loss. We'd just be happy to be losing weight! Though the prospect of losing weight without even trying may seem like a blessing, it really is something to question. It's the old "if it sounds too good to be true..." idea.

"Possible causes of unintentional weight loss include depression, frequent diarrhea, hyperthyroidism (an overactive thyroid gland), infection, poor nutrition, AIDS, and cancer. If you're trying to figure out why someone else is losing weight unintentionally, you may also want to look into drug abuse, eating disorders, and smoking."

I'll be rockin' the frequent diarrhea option soon... just gotta let the Ex-Lax kick in, but in the meantime, other than work out and starve myself, I want to do more to get the weight off.

The About.com author presents more information about unexplained weight loss and colon cancer:

"Tumors are their own life form. They require a blood supply and energy to grow, and they also release their own waste products. Since they're living inside you, tumors use your blood and nutrients, and release their waste products inside your body. You're unlikely to notice the diversion of blood and nutrients, but sometimes tumors release chemicals that increase the body's metabolism (such as burn calories faster), which can lead to unexplained weight loss."

THAT'S IT!! THAT'S WHAT I NEED!!

CANCER!!!

I don't even have to DO anything. Just gonna sit there and grow me some cancer!! BOOYA!!

Then when I've reached my goal weight, I'll just start up the chemo!!

(You wish you thought of it.)

Atta girl!

Yesterday – a lunch meeting.

All around me are folks eating what I crave. Burgers with entire sticks of butter soaked into the bun. Full racks of fatty ribs hastily torn from the carcass of a fat sow. Milkshakes galore!

I'm in it to win it, so I consciously take the salad route. I rarely, if ever, roll down this path.

I order the Cobb Salad.

I like a Cobb Salad.

When it arrives at the table, my lunchmates, who are collectively prepared to devour the sum of an entire bull, take jabs at me.

“Ben, what the fack?”

“You wanna bite of my burger?”

“You’re gonna be starving in a half hour.”

And so on.

Yes. I may have ordered a salad, but I’ve got an ace up my sleeve. As it turns out, the Cobb Salad is one of the most diabolically vile salads ever to grace a lunch table.

Yes, I’m rockin’ tha greens. The tomatoes, the green onions, the olives, etc. All healthy stuff. But take a look at this sucker’s better components.

Bacon.

Bacon is the world’s best anything. You know this. If you walk into Cold Stone Creamery, order a Love-It sized “Cookie Doughn’t You Want Some” and they ask “You want bacon mixed in there?” You say, “Yes.” Put bacon on anything and it will taste better than if God’s mom made it for you.

Egg.

Not just egg. An entire goddamn egg. One whole egg. That one whole egg you eat for breakfast egg. Sliced up to look like “bits” of egg, but you’re not fooling me. There’s an entire egg laying on top of my salad. And I’m gonna eat the hell out of it.

Chicken.

It’s not enough that we’re serving up the little birdy embryo, but we’ve also killed its mother and her breast is sliced and piled up on the rim of your plate! Booya, suckers!! Eat the bird.

Bleu Cheese Dressing.

If ever a salad dressing were to earn the designation “gnarly,” this dressing would win it. I mean, the guy who named this dressing was so fat and lazy from eating so much of it he transposed two letters in the word “blue.” That’s how amazingly terrible this dressing is for human consumption. It should have been made illegal back in the 60s, but you really have no idea how powerful the bleu cheese lobbyists are in Washington. No idea.

Regular Cheese.

There’s not just bleu cheese caking up this salad. Nosiree. We gotta put regular cheese on there, boyo. Just in case we missed the artery with the dressing (which isn’t bloody likely), this will help take care of an entire chamber – probably a ventricle.

Avocado.

“Whoa Ben, avocados are vegetables.” Yes. I know this. But avocados are also CHOCK FULL OF FAT!! Who the fack pissed off God enough for him to create a vegetable that’s got FAT IN IT?! I don’t know, and I don’t care. Avocados are the reason why I’m secretly funding a group of underground scientists whose only goal is to find a way to cross breed lettuce and margarine – there’s gotta be a way to get more fat into our vegetables!

And there’s eight pounds of this stuff sitting right in front of me.

It’s probably 3,457 calories.

I devour it, but I feel good about myself.

After all, it’s a salad.

(Lay off,  I’m trying to lose weight)

Never again... (sinner).

Pick out the three best men you have in your fleet, and I will tell you all the tricks that the old man will play on you. The moment you see that he is asleep, seize him. Put forth all your strength and hold him fast, for he will do his very utmost to get away from you. He will turn himself into every kind of creature that goes upon the earth and will become also water and wondrous blazing fire. But you must hold him fast and grip him tighter and tighter, until he begins to talk to you. When at length of his own will he speaks, then, hero, stay thy might, and set the old man free.

The Odyssey, Book IV

In my younger days, chock full of wiseass bluster and poop & pee jokes, I used to claim to know what the meaning of life was.

“I know the meaning of life,” I’d tell people.

Those willing to participate (and/or who hadn’t heard me before) were all ears.

“Laxatives,” I’d say.

“Laxatives?” was the usual response, just ahead of the statement that came in close second, which was, “Dude, you’re an asshole.”

“Yes, laxatives,” I’d say. “Aren’t you RELIEVED to know it’s laxatives?”

Get it?

Relieved. Laxatives. More poop jokes.

Followed by: Embarrassment. Shunning. Loss of more friends. That guy at the party nobody’s talking to anymore. Etc. Etc.

I think I was on to something, though I’m sure I didn’t know it at the time.

You are already fully aware of my current dilemma, for which I might lose $160.00. I have no time to work out and I loathe dieting. So, how am I going to get this weight off?

You guessed it, my fine-feathered friends.

Laxatives.

Yes. This is extremely unhealthy. Yes. Chances are, if I do this, I will end up in the hospital. Yes. There might actually be some negative long-term repercussions using this method.

But I’m lazy and unfathomably unchangeable, and, like the rest of you idiots, I put money on the line.

On the other hand, who doesn’t like a solid dump every day (or several times as the case may be)?!

Laxatives baby!

(Aside: Hi, I’m Ben’s rational mind. I don’t emerge too much. I thank you for reading the above ridiculousness. Please, I implore you, try to convince me that this is a really bad idea. I don’t wanna die. Thank you for your consideration.)

How in the hell am I going to do this?

I mean, I’ve done it before, and I got great results, but the fat came back – and it brought FRIENDS!

Here’s the story: I quit smoking in college. I was up to about a pack and a half a day. Quitting was tough, but it had to be done. When I quit, I noticed the weight pile on. I lugged it around a couple years until my wife and I bought an elliptical somethingorother. It came with a free stationary bike. We were young, had all the time in the world to ourselves and could work out whenever we wanted.

I worked out an hour a day, five days a week and I dropped 60 elbees, friends. It was grueling work. I was sore all the time. I hate working out. Hate with a capital HATE.

Two kids later, those days are long gone. The weight came back eventually. My wife and I can barely find time to go to the bathroom let alone work out for a half hour each day. The elliptical machine now serves as a clothes hanger. The stationary bike is the base of my bedroom book pile. It’s sad, really.

How am I going to do this again?

I know I got good results working out, but where’s the time?

My other problem – I like eating food. I even joined the “eating food” fan club on Facebook. That’s how much I enjoy eating.

So, what’s a fat guy to do?

Anorexia?

Bulimia?

Cut off a limb?

Jazz dance (with requisite jazz hands)?

Fack.

I need suggestions, STAT! If I’m gonna lose 40 elbees by June 5, I need to get started YESTERDAY!

I hate losing weight, but not as much as I’d hate losing $160.00 in wet hot American currency to the soon-to-be-former President of the United States.

Hook me up, yo!
 

Cripes... did I pick a great time of year to decide to lose weight.

I’m currently digesting two turkey legs, a gallon of gravy, piles and piles of stuffing and sweet potatoes and cranberry relish, and a couple of pies. I’m still gearing up for Round 2! This fight ain’t over! At least it shouldn't be. My holiday goal was to eat a partridge and the pear tree this year. But as it is, I need a change. Christmas lobster on the grill be damned, I’ve gotta do something about this.

No folks, this is not a new year’s resolution. Several years ago my new year’s resolution was “no more new years resolutions.” So far, I've been really good about sticking to that. Resolutions that are made simply because we notched up one more annual digit closer to doomsday? Please. A person should make change any damn time he/she wants. The time is NOW, suckers!

No, I’ve got a goal now. In these trying economic times, it’s hard to justify putting up money toward reaching a goal like this. However, things are getting dire.

I’m turning 30 this year. I’m no spring chicken by any means imaginable. My metabolism is fading faster than Britney’s self esteem. I’m getting gray hair. I creak when I stand up. My barber trims my eyebrows. I have sleep apnea and take naps with a C-PAP mask on. I eat dinner at 4 p.m. When I suck it in, I only look "less obese."

If I don’t get this weight off soon, I’m gonna keep getting bigger. And bigger. And bigger until I become one of those unfortunately overfed (yet malnourished) folks the hospital has to drag out on eight gurneys after tearing down a wall – injuring the backs of several Ahnuld-sized longshoremen in the shipping process.

I can’t bear that. Neither can my family. I wanna live long enough to be able to walk my daughters down the aisle when they get married at age 58 (the earliest I'm allowing my daughters to get married... sorry fellas).

That’s why I’m gonna lose 40 elbees by June 5. It's a good start. If I don’t lose that weight by then, I’m giving George W. Bush $160.00 in wet hot American money.

Why Dubya?

Several reasons.

2000 elections. I’m voting for the first time. I’m in college. I’m drunk. A lot. I could care less about the election, let alone what class I’m sleeping through. I am, for some strange reason, compelled to go to the polls with my mom. My mom’s a smart lady. I’m hemming and hawing. She asks me which candidate I’m voting for. I tell her I don’t know. She asks me if I want four more years of Clinton. I think about it. No. Not really. I mean, I don’t see Al dropping his drawers in the Oval Office for any reason other than his pants being on fire, but he seems tainted. Shameful. OK. I vote for George W. Bush, which I thought, especially after 9/11, was an OK decision. Then Iraq happens. Fool me once, shame on you.

2004 elections. Fool me twice, shame on me, right? Wrong. I blame the Democrats for this one. You have four years to regroup. Four years to find the best candidate possible to take down what is turning out to be one helluva presidential pooch screw. And the best you can come up with is John Kerry? Really? That guy? I vote for George W. Bush, the devil I know. A decision I will eternally regret.

I dislike the Bush administration for all the reasons you can think of, but most of all because I’ve been let down.

I don’t enjoy being let down by someone I have, at one point or another, endorsed. Yeah, I should have my damn head examined for voting for the man, twice, but I’m making amends. After all, of all three presidential elections in which I’ve been old enough to vote, I’ve picked the winner. Booya.

So, since Dubya ain’t gonna see too many dollars coming his way via speaking engagements or commencement speeches once he leaves office, I’ve chosen him as the recipient of my failure money. A fiscal conservative he is not and I’m assuming my money would go toward X-box games and a box of wine were it to fall in his hands. Makes sense that my failure money would go toward a failure were I to fail, which I won’t.

Will I?