One More Time…

Posted: August 31, 2011 in Self-Deprecation
Tags: , , , , ,

Yes, we have yet another song-inspired title.  Last time I celebrated the impending doom of my cast, and the countdown is now measured in hours instead of days… or weeks like when I began this whole writing odyssey.  In retrospect, it’s been a fun trip (for me at least), but it won’t be over once this damn fiberglass exoskeleton is cut from my body.

Yes, I’m celebrating the last days of my maul-whatever-the-hell-looks-tasty “diet.”  I put on over 20 freaking pounds since my happy ass went under the knife.  I was down to roughly 8% bodyfat when I initially lost the fight with that cursed refrigerator…  and this translates into an almost 25lb gain (I don’t want to even think about the real numerical damage done) since my last act of testosterone-fueled badassery.  Note to all you other guys out there who consider yourselves built like Terminators– knee-jerk reactions involving large objects may give you momentary glory, but you’re more likely to end up one of those dumpy bastards who could be mistaken for a perma-virgin with a WoW subscription.  Consider yourselves warned, again.

Ok, I can’t keep a train of thought to save my life right now.  I’m just stoked that I’m soon to be free, and I’m celebrating with a food orgy in my mouth.   Yes, I intend to swallow every last bit of it.  Savor that mental image, because there’s gonna be more carnivorous goodness going down my gullet than a frat mattress that realizes that they can’t hurt their reputation any further.   That’s kind of where I’m sitting right now with the whole waistline crisis thing.  Unlike that saucy mental image (that I know you’re still reeling from), I have no lasting stigma (nor disease).

My impending kamikaze diet won’t start tomorrow, no– because I’m going on vacation this weekend.  This is going to be a weekend of gut-busting awesomeness, complete with a stop to Primanti Brothers.  If any of you Yinzers out there have any other kinds of destinations in the greater Pittsburgh area that are of this ilk, comment here and put me in the loop.  I’m serious, last time I asked for input, I got three replies.  Three.  United States voter turnout is better than that, and it’s pretty tough to be lazier than that.  Anyway.

The first fix I had to get one last fill of was none other than a favorite from my hometown– AJ’s Texas Hots.

Cue the Heavenly Host

No Greek dog, no chili dog, no saucy wiener greater... than these Texas Hots.

These artery-destroying babies were handed down by God Himself to Johnny Colera of Jamestown, NY in 1936.  Many locals call all of them “Johnny’s” for short, and used to bitterly argue over which location made the best ones (both were owned/run by different branches of the same family).  We purists know AJ’s is the real deal.  Johnny’s Hots changed their recipe when they decided to franchise out, and the locals who’ve been eating them their entire lives know.   They committed rivalry suicide, and now there’s no freaking contest (but believe you me, they are still freaking epic if that’s all you can get your dirty mitts on).

Yes, my lackadaisical eating patterns are over after this weekend.  In the meantime, I’m going to be indulging like Charlie Sheen in Tony Montana’s private stockpile.  It’s not like I can do any more damage over the course of a weekend.

That and I’m just getting my body ready to drop a holy shitload of weight over the next month.  For those of you curious as to what I’m plotting, I’ll post the diet later– as if I needed to further seal the fact that I’ve lost my freaking mind.  I’m merely 13 hours from having an elbow again, and maybe Jill too.

Unplug.

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Comments
  1. Maxim says:

    I think I want to start a “maul-whatever-the-hell-looks-tasty diet” as well. Sounds delicious!

  2. It is, hands down, the most epic way to give your tongue orgasms.. short of high-end porn.

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