Poop & the world poops with you.

Let me start this post where the last one left off, much like the 1st track on Mayhem’s “Grand Declaration of War” starts with the exact same guitar riff that wraps up the last track on their previous EP, “Wolf’s Lair Abyss”.

I shouldn’t be surprised that I’m already logging some potty time, what with all the vegetables & fiber. But one thing that I’ve learned about myself is that when I’m dropping the kids off at the pool, privacy is a beautiful thing. I dunno why…maybe I’m maladjusted or self-conscious or neurotic or whatever, but it really puts a crimp in my style when someone else is moving their bowels less than 3 feet away from me. Seeing their feet brings their presence to the forefront of my awareness & I have to dig deep & focus on the task at hand, or else I’ll spend all day in the damn latrine.

And let me ask you, friends & faithful readers, who in the hell talks on their cellphone while they’re taking a dump?! I can see talking on the phone while you take a leak…AT HOME. In fact, I’ve done it a few times in my younger days when the steady intake of beer dictated several bathroom breaks during the course of a normal telephone conversation. But to be grunting & groaning & befouling the communal air of those around you (apparently when it comes to the courtesy flush I’m the Last of the Mohicans), then to take a call & carry on a conversation…it’s beyond the grasp of my diet-enfeebled mind.

Now, I know I’ve discussed reading on the toilet, but the difference is that reading is a quiet, solitary activity. Unless you’re reading aloud to someone. That’s an idea…I should bring a book to the john @ work & start reading out loud to myself. I’m wrapping up the 1st volume of the complete Sherlock Holmes stories; think that’s too incisive for the men’s room crowd? Might wanna start them off with something a bit more pedestrian, like Grisham’s latest smattering of legal claptrap.

Health-nuts & dingle-berries

Back to Phase 1 of the SouthBeachDiet...except I’m still eating fruit & oatmeal for breakfast. I’m trying to get down to 160-165lbs. My strategy for keeping hydrated is drinking a quart of SmartWater (makes Evian taste like donkey-piss) before lunch, then refilling the bottle at work after lunch. The water cooler here dispenses something akin to recycled pond-water, but adding a dash of powdered CrystalLite nudges it towards potability. I grabbed a couple psyllium-husk fortified dried-fruit bars at Trader Joes too, we’ll see how disastrous the results are. Speaking of Trader Joe’s, a little while ago, this blogger & his significant other split the cost of some greeny-green pills (I think their official name is “Green Life” or “Live Green” or “Living la vida verde”) from their vitamin aisle. I spotted blue-green algae” & dried spinach on their ingredient list & knew I had to try ‘em…those are two key ingredients in “Life Force”, a supplement endorsed by Randy Couture. Good enough for the first man to win titles in two UFC weight-divisions, good enough for me.

Warning: the next sentence is disgusting.

Using some hard-learned foresight, I picked up some Charmin’ wet-wipes from Target in case I have any trouble smoothly processing some of the culinary joys Phase 1 has to offer.

Marquis of Queensbury Spin Cycle

Conversation between an old black man & your humble narrator at the laundromat, once he saw I was reading “TapouT” magazine:

OBM: “You know when De LaHoya’s fighting?”
YHN: “Huh?”
OBM: “You know when De LaHoya’s fighting?”
YHN: “Naw.”
OBM: “He’s fighting this month though, right?”
YHN: “Yeah, I think he is.”
OBM: “He’s getting up there in years, but he can still make it to the bank.”
YHN: “Yep. He owns the company, right?”
OBM: “That’s right. Even when he lose, he win.”
YHN: “He still needs to go down in weight. Not up.”
OBM: “Oh hell no. There’s nothing for him up there. You seen Rocky yet?”
YHN: “Yep, that’s what I’m talking about.”