I hope everyone had a nice holiday weekend. A number of friends have told me I did.
I certainly had a healthy week leading up to the holiday.
I went for my biannual cleaning at the dentist on Monday. then had a physical on Tuesday. That means by Tuesday night I had already been criticized for being lazy and negligent and not flossing enough then got called fat. And I hadn’t even seen my parents yet!
But, as I always do, I took the advice of medical professionals to heart. Following my dentist appointment, I went to CVS to stock up on oral hygiene products. I bought fancy dental floss, crazy minibrush things that clean mouth crevices, flouride enhanced listerine mouthwash and magic toothpaste. I WILL NOT BOW IN THE FACE OF GUM RECESSION. I WILL FIGHT! Of course, this means my nightly getting ready for bed routine all of a sudden takes like 40 minutes. I place the over/under on me sticking to this new dental regiment at about 2 months. Components will start dropping off after that. The Listerine will run out and I won’t buy a new one. I’ll skip a night of flossing, then two nights then a week. It’s just the way things go.
I left my physical feeling pretty good. I’m just fat. That’s it. My blood pressure is good. My cholestorol is normal. I don’t have any fat guy-related diseases yet. And, I’d like to keep it that way. So far, so good. I haven’t had a french fry in a week. I’ve tried to cut back on excess carbs. I’ve eaten salad for lunch every day. I didn’t even go back for seconds on Thanksgiving. I’d like to think I can hold out on this one a little bit longer. You can help. If you see me eating fries, call me a fat ass. If I reach for the bread at dinner, poke me in the belly like I’m the Pillsbury doughboy. (I will not giggle. In fact, I will probably hit you. But, then, I’ll say thank you. You still come out on top.) Let’s see if I can be less fat.
Not thin. That would be crazy.
Just less fat.
Sports Illustrated’s game of Penn State catchup continues int0 a third week. Once again, L Jon Wertheim and David Epstein present a well wrtten, well researched and thorough capsule of the scandal. And, once again, it serves zero purpose for anyone who has been following the story. You can argue that this would be helpful for sports fans who haven’t followed the day to day minutiae of the story. The only problem with that logic is that, honestly, I haven’t met anyone who fits that description. Perhaps the magazine would have been better served by trying to get out in front of the Syracuse story. Instead, it looks like we’ll once again be reading recaps of information we already know come next week.
ED NOTE: I was reading Sports Illustrated on Friday, while waiting at Penn Station for a train to New Jersey. Before starting the magazine’s first proper article I decided to use the restroom. So, I rolled up my issue of SI, slid it into my back pocket and made my way into the Penn Station Men’s Room, a spot better known as “hold your breath, or you may breathe in fleas and end up with a lung infestation,” or “don’t wash your hands when you’re done. The sink has AIDS,” or “DID THAT HOMELESS GUY JUST SHAMPOO HIS BEARD WITH HAND SOAP AND WATER FROM THE TOILET?!?.” As I breathlessly made my way towards the urinals, a little boy ran by, brushed up against me and dislodged the magazine from my back pocket. It landed on the floor. I stared at it for a second before making the correct decision that there would be no way I would ever touch it again. The magazine was dead to me. And so, I never finished this week’s issue. I’m sorry for that.