Just Off Center

Well, the queries are in and I have to say that I’m fairly relieved that some of my darker secrets will remain hidden. So with no further delay…

“What is the absolute best thing about being married?”

Great question. Of course I could just blurt out “live-in pussy”, but that would just be dumb. Then again, that is a pretty sweet plus to the whole institution. But you don’t have to marry a girl to get your daily “medicine”. So what is the absolute best part about being married?

Well we all live our lives in a cyclical manner, some more subtle, others more extreme. I tend to take big swings in my approach to life, though the cycles are slowing. In my life there have been times when the whole world has been up my ass and I’ve failed at every task I set out to achieve. I’m not a man who handles failure very well. But it’s those horrible, dark moments in my life that I am most grateful for my marriage. Nina provides me with comfort and encouragement when I fail, sympathy and empathy when I’m sad, and relaxation and jocularity when I’m stressed.

I know that it seems sad that I say the best part of marriage is that I can always count on Nina for support. But I guess it’s just during those times when my need is greatest that my marriage is most noticeably a great blessing. So I suppose that while I appreciate all the great times we share, the institute of marriage is most beloved to me because my wife is my safety net in life. During my worst times, she’ll be there to lift me up. And so shall I be there for her. If not for my marriage, I’d be a very different man.

“How are you losing your weight?”

I like to imagine myself a purist of sorts. Because of this I simply can’t allow my workout and diet regimen to be complicated. If I do, I’ll fail. I’ve failed too many times before because I took a path that gave me options. So here’s how I’m doing it:

· I keep an accurate food journal. I keep it in excel format on my USB storage device on my key chain. In it I write down every calorie containing thing I eat. I note the portion size, number of portions consumed, calories per portion, saturated and unsaturated fat per portion, and charts that track this data. I can email it to anyone who wants it. It’s just a simple little thing. The most important thing is to update it often and keep it honest. It’s not a judgment, just a log. But it’s probably the most important aspect of my efforts here.

· I diet. Using my food journal I’ve identified some good ways to cut calories. I switched from whole eggs to egg substitutes. I stopped taking cream with my coffee (yes, Cece, my life is a little bit less full). I eat the healthier subs from subway for lunch almost every day. I’ll have a baked or seared cut of lean meat with some boiled and sautéed fresh veggies for dinner. I might indulge in a cup of light ice cream or two thin mint cookies later on. Then I write it all down. I try to eat fewer than 1,500 calories per day, and have been successful about 75% of the time.

· I exercise. Nina and I live out in the sticks. Scratch that. We practically live by the fucking river Styx. So I don’t have a gym to go to anymore. Instead I’ve taken up with mountain biking and hiking with the occasional trip to the public pool for some laps. I tend to engage in exercise that will allow me to push myself to the point of physical exhaustion. Last night after work I climbed Pass Mountain (a 1,200 foot climb). It feels great to summit and see that you are at the highest point of anything in all directions. Usually, the morning after a hard push like this I find I’ve dropped one to three pounds.

“What makes you the illest?”

The strange thing about illness is that it is a relative assignation. A person is only as ill as the illness given him by those around him. We all know someone who tries to force some measure of illness at his friends, and it usually only demurs what illness he naturally possesses. But since I have promised to answer this question, I’ll ask for some latitude with the following arrogant profession of illness augmenting qualities. So what makes me so ill? I’d have to say that my personal illness stems from a series of things:

· WIT – I’ve always found the dry, wry humor to be the most appealing. Wes Anderson films absolutely kill me. The funniest jokes to me are the ones without an obvious punch line. Normally, the ill would be more adept at the bitchslap type wit. And while I can go toe to toe with many at fat momma and broke ass slams, it’s the joy of insulting someone without them even knowing they’ve just been served that people find most impressive. Just for good measure, I’ll occasionally add a throaty “BURN!” at the end just to give my illness that added little kick. It’s like the statistics that claim if a waitress writes a smiley face or a “thanks!” on your check that you’ll bump up your tip by two to five percent. “BURN!” gives my illness rating a two to five percent boost.

· FASHION – A person has to be pretty damned ill indeed to walk around wearing a sleeveless shirt with “ILLEST” stitched on the front. But when you add the number 13 to the shirt, you truly gain props among the illness raters in your area. When you add some boot cut jeans and a 40 oz, you’ve got a recipe for red hot Chilly McIlly.

· NINA – Ill by association. I have no problems being part of the entourage. In college, it was Nina’s dorm that everyone came to party. When we moved in together, it was Nina who brought the crowds. When we were stoners, it was Nina who was always able to make the score. Now, Nina is still everybody’s favorite, and justifiably so. Yes sir, my tootie only serves to add to my illness.

· I’M WHITE – And what’s iller than a honkey, really?

So only three questions asked. Oh well, I got off light. Thanks for reading everyone. To be honest, I do occasionally have a problem with feeling like I should censor my shit because my readers may not like it. But then I post it anyway and let the chips fall where they may. I’m glad that some of you get a kick out of me. Happy weekend, y’all!