Food (For Mindless) Thought

Last Supper

We all justify our shit.

Some of us do it for sporting reasons, as we don’t want to let our opponent (us) sense our weakness. Because that is, after all, anathema to any competitive endeavor worth suiting up for. And self analysis isn’t simply a sport, it’s a collision sport . . sprinkled in therapy bills.

Take for instance, my diet. Which isn’t a diet in the ’30 day bikini body’ sense. Shit, I haven’t been on that kind of diet since I had a full head of hair and still listened to heavy metal.

If you haven’t tried Kit Kat Dark, you ain’t in love with dark chocolate the way I am. Because I am currently doing the nasty with this sexy thing, once a day. Times several more. And it’s the fates conspiring against my girlish figure, I’m telling you. . . . it’s the fates!

Kit Kat

I’m talking diet as per my daily nutritional intake. And I use ‘nutritional’ more loosely than Jenna Jamison uses a movie scene, with every bit of that wicked dollar bill buttah and jam. And as with JJ, when I’m good I am very good. But when I’m bad, you best call Homeland Security . . because shit just got a little too real.

This here interlude is totally the fault of Q, who texted me with some serious 411. Seems I was wasting my time watching the Steelers game whilst The Last Waltz was kicking up on TCM. And so I went there and learned me all over again how Eric Clapton has always had that innate ability to be the coolest cat in the room. And mind you, he ain’t make the scene of any room that wasn’t already full of ’em. Even so. And especially when this happens.


Take last night, for instance . . when I had sex. Filthy, dirty sex. With a platter of twice baked nachos. And the only reason the neighbors didn’t call the police is because I was plugged into the chill weather of my favorite rock band of this, that and every other time. Because when Kansas dropped vinyl, well, they were making the babies that raised my peace of mind. I’m pretty sure the boys didn’t know they were doing me that kind of solid, but hey, that’s why the cosmos wears the most righteous smoking jacket known to man and space. Because the cosmos knows its business like that. It milks sunshine out of the moon, after all.

Anyways, back to my shit for diet. I mean, really . . the fucking dreck that I put in my body should be illegal. Okay, I’m just kidding. I don’t really want to have to wait a couple days until my pain in the ass dealer gets back to me with a quote on a Jimmy Johns Italian sub that’s five times more expensive than what I’m paying currently. By illegal, I mean that it’s too fucking expensive for the body that I wish to wear. Coo?

So it’s Sunday night, 9 pm-ish. I get home, and in spite of the fact I had a late lunch, I’ve been playing defense attorney to my weak ass mentally deficient defendant whose name is Will Power . . . for most of the late afternoon/evening. So by nine o’clock, I’m hungrier than Wolf Blitzer in a blood bank.

I get home and it’s already well beyond too late for me to get civilized. So . . in lieu of a cold glass of water, a crisp apple and a prayer to Jesus . . . I fire up the oven to 350. After which I key in my pass code to the nuclear football- otherwise known as a Tupperware container, filled with loaded nachos I had created inside happier times. (i.e. Saturday night whilst watching college football). And then I commence with spilling a healthy (not) portion of that fucker into an oven safe dish, after which I stuck it inside my own personal highway to hell for fifteen minutes worth of endless regret.

Bon met Appetit. They had kids, after which Maury Povich might’ve gotten involved if my belly wasn’t incapable of having babies. And then, Jerry Springer showed up and forced me to take a box of Nestle Buncha Crunch and pour it on top of a quarter gallon (or so) of vanilla ice cream.

Which is why I run. Like, inside a shit ton of my free time in fact. Three miles at least, six miles when Jesus takes the wheel and throws a cherry on top of my endorphin Sundae. And so what if my bad romance of a diet is gonna catch up with me eventually? For right now, I’m getting away with nutritional murder.

Catch me if you can.






43 thoughts on “Food (For Mindless) Thought

  1. B, B, B…

    What am I gonna do with you? I know. Give you kudos for your honesty because, all that stuff? The wild sex, the dirty little secret (yes, we are talking food)? Most of us, well those of us who are honest anyway, have our guilty pleasures. Yeah, sometimes we’re good and do it only once in a while and sometimes we just say fuck it and do it three days in a row. You, at least, are smart enough to run…
    And I shall never claim to be holier than thou (despite my Instagram posts) in saying I make only healthy. Miss Vickie’s Black Pepper and Lime and a bottle of red have been my supper more than once.
    As for the interlude. Hey, I could not keep that to myself… I just wish I’d caught the first half-hour!
    Here’s to allowing ourselves to do the nasty once in a while (or a bit more) and balancing it out with some good-for-you shit!
    Kit-Kat Dark, eh? Imma stay away from that one… I already have a hankering for dark chocolate…

    To living on the edge

    Liked by 1 person

    • Q,
      I calls em as I sees em, Miss Q. Which has always gotten me into more trouble than the trouble is worth. Which is why I stopped dating dieticians. Eventually.
      I do the nasty on way too many occasions. As far as food is concerned, of course. And I am plenty certain that Jesus is gonna forgive me. Dude is the best next door neighbor I ever had, and a kick ass tattoo artist to boot!

      Kit Kat Dark Chocolate . . . as the kids might say? Is life.

      Liked by 1 person

  2. Man alive. I had to cover my eyes several times. The explicit scenes in this piece were more than disturbing. All my life I’ve been told to keep my hands off the parts of life that send chills throughout my body. Nachos? I can’t stand it. Kit Kat dark? My breathing just got irregular. I’m going to stick my tongue in a Hagen Daz Waffle Cone flavor container and hope for the future. in short super post, Marc.

    Liked by 2 people

    • Eilene,

      Well, I loves me my whiskey as well. But if forced to choose between over indulgent foods or a tumbler of something friendly? Imma go with chowing down, lol.
      Thankfully, I have not been forced to choose.

      Thank you for the chime!

      Liked by 2 people

  3. So … um … yeah. I think. I don’t know. This was just kind of …

    I run too … partially because I was raised in a family where most members have stayed active for the sake of staying active and healthy. But, so too, if I didn’t run and stay active, I wouldn’t be able to eat what I eat and drink what I drink without weighing 300 pounds. So, … um … yeah … I run.

    Liked by 2 people

    • Mark,
      I don’t think Fathers Lankester Merrin and Damien Karras would’ve been able to retrieve my soul from where it was when I wrote this.
      Sometimes I write something and I’ll go back and reread it later on. And then there are posts such as this one. Outside of basic editing before publishing, I haven’t read it back, nor will I. Ever. I fear doing so would simply unleash Captain Howdy once again.

      I was raised in a family where eating rich foods and drinking copious amounts of alcohol were the standard. Amazingly, these peeps didn’t suffer the ill effects of all that excess. Well, until their livers jumped out of their bodies years later.

      With a metabolism that is slower than frozen maple syrup, if I don’t run, I gain weight. By the day, it would seem.

      Liked by 1 person

  4. I’m giggling over so much of this. First, they have dark chocolate kit kat? I’m afraid my healthy eating has almost ruined me with chocolate… it all seems so sweet now. But.. I might need to make a go of that, at least once. French fries are my stupid weakness… I give myself up to them a couple times a month. “Jesus takes the wheel 6 miler hmm?” well I gotta remember that but at least it made me snort… and as we’ve discussed… the good stuff in moderation and a healthy dose of running will keep us from turning into balloons, right? Hopefully…. 😉

    Liked by 1 person

  5. Holy Cheese and Crackers. Duuuuuuude you know how I feel about diets … I’m all about … just walk it off, or run it off, or swim or whatever has you moving. And you know how I feel about chocolate, which is why I am totally surprised that I have yet to discover the Dark Kit Kat in my neighborhood. I’m gonna have to investigate this import-export situation down at the Vons because I haven’t seen it yet! But I’m on the lookout now! Have a good one buddy.

    Liked by 1 person

    • Cali,

      Diets are a stopgap solution that doesn’t work, because you can’t ‘honeymoon’ with your hunger.
      You know exactly what I’m talking about. Enjoy your food, but understand there is a bill that comes due, and you’re gonna have to write the check. Simple as that. No detours. For me, it’s a Rob Zombie workout, running and the stationary bike.
      I would get online and order up those Kit Kat darks pronto. They are THAT good!

      Have a better one OG!


    • I overdosed on chocolate a few years ago at a Chocolate Fest in Hershey, Pa. We went at in for over an hour, taking water breaks before diving back in. I couldn’t look at the stuff for a month after. THAT was unsafe nutritional sex. Which I’ve taken part in more times than I’m willing to admit . . .

      Liked by 1 person

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