My Friends are Assbags...

Welp, I suppose it had to happen sometime.  It happened this weekend, and it hit like Hurricane Katrina, leaving destruction in its wake.  Lemme ‘splain:

            Every diet says you have to have a “Cheat Day” so that you don’t go ratfuck crazy and start gnawing on your own limbs.  I think it’s a pretty fair idea, so I planned to have one this past Saturday.  A buddy of mine makes his own home brewed beer, and I’ve wanted to learn how to do it, so he invited us over to check it out. 

Of course, this turned into a backyard BBQ with about a dozen people.  I should have known then.

  When you are making homebrew, apparently you must pretend to be a beer connoisseur so that it seems as if you know what you are doing standing over that 2 trillion (approximation) BTU burner.  Ipso facto there was a cooler full of micro-brews.  I love micro brew. I love micro-brew almost as much as food.  In fact, when I am showering up after a workout I dream about the water being a fine IPA, or Porter (that is; of course, assuming I can hear my thoughts over the sound of my muscles screaming). On this day, I sampled a few but really drank the equivalent of about 2 beers.  I’ve been laying off the suds anyway for the purposes of my defattification. 

‘Twas not the beer that was my undoing, however, its rich malted, hopped splendor was no help.

With about a dozen people, you obviously need enough food to fill a U.N food drop in Somalia.  So we had a bevy of garlic dips, spinach dips, Hawaiian Chips (I fucking LOVE these), prosciutto stuffed mushrooms, tri-tip…lots of tri-tip, and of course big soft Dutch crunch rolls to make a sandwich out of ALL of that.  Oh, there was a salad, but that was simply there for posterity.  My friends, who all know that I am on a journey (FUCK-THERE IT IS AGAIN) – I mean, plan  - to being less grotesque, paid it no mind as they egged me on….

“You think you’re done, bitch-tits!?  There’s still a basket full of moist brownies, gooey chocolate chip cookies, and whoa, what’s this!?  Is that a box full of cupcakes that someone brought!?!?!  Whoa, Nelly!  Batten down the hatch, THIS SHIT IS ABOUT TO GET REAL!”    

I have a bit of a sweet tooth.  Not so much for candy, but I go apeshit for baked goods.  I mean, I literally change into the Incredible Hulk with an insatiable rage – although I’m more like the Unremarkable Hulk, with an insatiable appetite.  I’d punch every face on a school bus full of pre-schoolers if it were between a cookie and me.

If you’ve been following along – you can probably sense where this is going.  After gorging myself with enough red meat to induce a massive coronary, which was AFTER eating enough appetizers to make my liver into Foie Gras, I started in on the cookies…

…and the brownies

…and the cupcakes…

…and the cookies again.

One friend – the one who brought the cupcakes – cut them into little pieces so everyone could try what they wanted – how nice!  Now, I am less likely to choke as I make my cookie/brownie/cupcake/tri-tip burrito. 

FUCK YOU FOR JUDGING ME ALREADY!  I implore you, take pity on me; for, Tony Horton exacted his wrath upon me tenfold for my gluttony.

Approximately 20 minutes later, as my stomach finally got around to telling me that I was full after the first few stuffed mushrooms, I became extremely uncomfortable. 

I am fairly certain, that if I were to eat another bite of food, I would have perished.  No bullshit…

 

The spirit of Tony Horton – that fervent little jizzwad – then manifested itself through all that masticated food, formed into a midget like a mini-Voltron and began to Kenpo punch me repeatedly in my spine, kidney, stomach, intestines, diaphragm, and lungs.  He did pull-ups from my rib cage, and did plymotrics on my liver.  Oh, sweet Lord how I loathed myself for the rest of the evening. 

By the way – the gluttony took place in the mid afternoon, which means that until I went to bed I suffered – approximately 8 hours of wanting to stab myself in the belly button in hopes that all the evil would come spewing forth…

The following day, I did the Kenpo workout.  I swapped the off day and the Kenpo day, as we had to do a bit of traveling to get to my buddy’s place. 

I particularly enjoy the Kenpo (aka Kung-Fu Ass Panda) workout.  It is an opportunity for me to pretend that I am Bruce Wayne training himself for a life as the Dark Knight.  I will often catch myself in the mirror during this workout (fucking mirrored closet doors) and realize that I am not Bruce Wayne at all.  I am more like this guy…

How's that for an image burned into your memory?

That is all for this bonus blog post.  Be back on Friday, my little snowflakes.