Tuesday, August 14, 2007


Eric may have Helga, but She Who Must Be Obeyed and I have something far, far more evil: Dianna.

Dianna, the Personal Trainer.

Dianna’s mission in life is to help the Missus and me to Be All That We Can Be, for which she is handsomely remunerated. In my case, Being All That I Can Be means being a sweaty, whining, obnoxious individual, exceptionally Averse to Exercise. But I drove myself to do Dianna’s bidding, for she brooks no nonsense. Plus, she’s got a tight little bod with nice, firm kalamatunis and an ass you could crack walnuts with. An inspiration, it is.

Somehow, I managed to survive the day’s workout. SWMBO did, too, but she doesn’t whine nearly as much. Having had two children, I suspect, has inured her to levels of pain with which most men are simply not acquainted. Unless they somehow find themselves in the position of having to shit out a bowling ball. With legs.

Afterwards, we were feeling a bit peckish - and thrifty - so we went out for a quick bite at the local International House of Pancakes. No, we didn’t order pancakes. It would have been perverse to sabotage our recent efforts at the gym with pancakes...so we ordered reasonably healthy dishes, both of which involved some sort of chicken.

But to find those “reasonably healthy” dishes, we had to negotiate a minefield of “no frickin’ way this is healthy” choices on the menu. I noticed, with no small amount of horror, that IHOP is now touting funnel cakes along with their usual French toast and pancakes. (Waffles, it seems, they leave to the experts at Waffle House. If you try to order a waffle at IHOP, the busboys take you in the back by the dumpster and beat you to death.)

Funnel cakes. The bastard offspring of an illicit liaison between a pancake and a doughnut, funnel cakes are made by allowing batter to dribble through a funnel (duh) into hot grease. The resulting sargassum-like mat of fried dough is then extracted from the Grease Tank, drained, and covered with powdered sugar.

From a health perspective, funnel cakes make doughnuts look like a vinegar salad with steamed broccoli. That’s on account of their high surface area-to-volume ratio, which allows a single funnel cake to absorb the same amount of hot grease as any eight hundred randomly-selected doughnuts. Since everything tastes better fried, and assuming that deliciousness is proportional to Grease Content, a funnel cake should therefore taste eight hundred times better than a doughnut. That’s a hypothesis that this guy oughta test.

About the only good thing you can say about the funnel cakes is that they’re not the Crispy Banana Caramel Cheesecake. Checkit:

“Rich, creamy cheesecake layered with chunks of banana and caramel, quick-fried in a flaky pastry tortilla. Topped with powdered and cinnamon sugars, caramel sauce, sliced banana, and whipped topping.”

Holy Fuckamoley.

That cannot possibly be good for you.

But I figure that with a year of thrice-weekly workouts under my belt, I just may be able to try it. Or maybe I’ll just get a spoon, a tub of Crisco™, some confectioner’s sugar, and eat myself silly. Because by then, I will have earned it.

No comments: