What a Nice Guy by Phil Torcivia

Friday, April 15, 2011

Splurge


      It’s fun to be a pig, occasionally. In fact, the only diet I have ever found to work is one I tried recently that had me limit my carb intake for six days and pig out on the seventh. Sounds like God’s plan. We all love treats, right? This method works because my misery is offset by the anticipation of a treat.
      It seems this method works for just about anything, not just food. What’s the old adage: “Absence makes the heart grow fonder”? So true, to a point. It depends on the length of the absence. For my greedy ass, I’d say six days is about the limit before complacency or frustration sets in.
      We can’t just go around following our urges, can we? I’d probably be a biscuit shy of three hundred pounds if I did. I stroll the aisles of Ralphs with an angel (Jack Lalanne) and devil (Dom Deluise) on each shoulder.
      Phil: Mmm, Oreos.
      Dom: Yes! You must! Look at how hard you worked at the gym all week. Reward thyself.
      Jack: Keep walking, blubber-butt. If you so much as touch that package, I will have you running stairs until you puke.

      Phil: OMG, jalapeno flavored Snyder’s Pretzel Pieces.
      Dom: Ooh, spicy goodness with a pleasant crunch. They’re very low in sugar. You can do it.
      Jack: Really? Look at the fat content, Mr. Three-Necks.

      Phil: I haven’t had a Twix in so long.
      Dom: A true delicacy. You’ve earned it, my friend. Hold one gently between thumb and index finger, snap one-third from the chocolatey log, allow the goodness to melt, and swallow a small lump of gooey heaven.
      Jack: What are you, twelve? If you eat one of those, you will hate yourself.

      Phil: Iced raisin bread brings back memories of childhood. I need this.
      Dom: While you’re at it, you must buy some real butter. Fake butter tastes like pavement. You can mix it with cinnamon sugar and create a crusty delight.
      Jack: Oatmeal. You eat oatmeal and, if you behave (spend one hour in the gym lifting weights, not staring at fitness instructors), I’ll reward you by allowing you to dust the top with half a packet of Splenda.

      Phil: Venti … Caramel … Macchiato.
      Dom: Ignore the calories, sweetie. You see, the caffeine offsets them. You’ll be a bundle of energy, buzzing around the house handling all sorts of chores you’ve been ignoring. It’s a sin-win.
      Jack: You may have a mug of green tea. I realize it tastes like wet lawn, but it’s good for you.

      It’s an epic battle.
      It has been many moons since my previous “serious” relationship, but I do recall her suggesting that we resist the weekday nookie to make the weekend boink-fests more intense. Bad idea. I simply made more shower babies during the week. I lack discipline. A better option would be to make each day special by making it a sexual position day.
      Let’s propose:
·         Missionary Mondays,
·         Tie-My-Wrists Tuesdays,
·         Against-the-Wall Wednesdays,
·         Through-the-Back-Door Thursdays,
·         Fellatio Fridays,
·         Syrup Saturdays, and
·         Sixty-Nine Sundays.

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