Self-Deprivation causes much irritation.

Since I expect to find myself shirtless by a pool in the coming months, I've joined my fellow huskies and adjusted my meals accordingly.

Yesterday at the sub shop I ordered a turkey salad with vinaigrette dressing on the side. As I dipped my leafy greens I couldn't avoid the sights and scents of meatballs, pastrami, and melted cheese.

I ate angrily.

Those more disciplined than I see choices like these differently. Heck, some even feel sorry for the people one booth over who are mowing their ways toward pasty arteries.

"I feel so much better when I eat right. All I've eaten so far today is two egg whites and an apple."
"Fucking salad."
"Don't be like that. It's so good for you."
"I want to kill something ... and eat it with a wad of wasabi."
"We'll take a long walk this afternoon and splurge a bit for dinner. How about skinless chicken breast and snow peas?"
"No, damn it! I want a big, greasy burger with lots of bacon and cheese. I want waffle-fucking-fries and warm pretzel bites with honey mustard. I want a cookie sandwich of two warm, dark chocolate chip cookies surrounding a Reese's Peanut Butter Cup. And, I don't give a drool if it make me lumpy."

The same nonsense goes on with women I'm attracted to, but can't have. If the fellow next to me is enjoying a tasty brunette with a side of morning nookie, I become angry. If one of my attractive female buddies seeks my advice about men while reminding me that my penis is off-limits, I see red. If my lovely wingwoman has a few too many, which makes her extra touchy/flirty, my insides boil.

I can't have any.

When the next day rolls around, I don't look back and take pride in my discipline. No. I deal with the woulda-coulda-shoulda song pounding in my head. So, I'm fat and fucked either way: I'm either mad at myself for gorging like a beast, or my empty stomach is full of regret about what should have been.

When I get to this point it's time to splurge or someone is going to suffer as I purge my frustration. Tonight, instead of veggies, hummus, salmon salad, and light beer, I'm going to have French-Freaking-Onion soup with extra cheese, gnocchi with thick, zesty paste, and a warm, chocolate dessert with a lump of creamy frozen stuff. Heck, I may even have it with a bucket of Baileys and a woman far too young to fondle my sagginess. Good day.

Love potions to make your mouth water.

What's cooking, Sugarcake? Have you ever experimented by combining various ingredients into a magic potion to satisfy your hunger?

My friends and I began doing this in grade school. We raided the spice rack and bottom refrigerator shelves and began mixing our little spells to cause icy roads and a "snow day" off from classes. Once we got into high school we tried different vitamin combinations to stop the acne parade and help us grow enough muscle to avoid wedgies on the bus. Then, in college, we mixed the cheapest alcohol and flavorings (yes, Tang and grain alcohol) to get us higher faster.

Now, we're done experimenting. We all need relationship treats, so I've scanned the archives of famous witches and found magical concoctions sure to do the trick.

More-Than-One-Minute Man

• Take one ordinary fellow. Combine with sexy video for three minutes then, once he is preheated, place him in the shower. Add some gentle shampoo as to not irritate the pee hole. Leave him be for ten minutes then remove him. Dry him off and allow him to "stand" for thirty minutes while reclining on the sofa with Sportscenter. Add some lingerie to yourself and a cold beer to him. Enjoy!

Blind Date Cut Short

• Take one not-so-attactive man your best-y insisted was cute. Place him across from you (Jesus, not next to you) at a wine bar table. Add subtle insults about his style, hairline, and tiny hands. Point to the wall behind him to cause distraction as you unlock your phone on your lap. Speed text your mother to call you immediately. While waiting for the call, tell him how gross you find oral sex to be, how much you hate football, and how you stabbed your ex for smiling at a server once ... once. When the phone rings, show him that it's your mother, tell him you "have to get this," take the call outside, return with a feigned look of distress, tell him you must go, and leave.

Young Stud Steamer

• Take one man under twenty-five. Ignore the high hair, dirty nails, and his mother's Volvo with the surfboard strapped to the roof. Add shots, shots, shots, shots-shots, shots, shots, shots (with optional fist pumping and chasers, depending on how much of a pussy he is). Add your credit card; nobody said this would be cheap. Remove his annoying friends by setting them up with your daughter's annoying friends. Ask him to walk you out to your car. Check him for firmness then unwrap and consume him as soon as possible in any dark area. When he asks for your number, laugh and drive away.

 Business Trip Dip

• Find a conference in San Diego, Las Vegas, or Phoenix and tell your spouse you hate to do it but you must attend. (No conference to be found? Make one up.) Two nights should suffice. Night one is for scouting; night two is for naughtiness. Mix in other spouses involved in bland marriages who also seek spice without involving attorneys. Add lots of alcohol and smoke 'em if you have 'em. Like a lost puppy, follow cute person to room. Knock some sense into each other. Return home rejuvenated with an entertaining story to share with your friends.

I hope you enjoy your little treats, Sweetness.