Doctors Hate This: The ONE Weird Diet Trick You Can’t Afford to Miss

4 Feb

You. Yes, you. Are you looking to change your life? Is the food you’re eating keeping you healthy, spry, and full of vigor? But are you having fun? Are you looking to poison your body and mind with the food you eat, but have a great time while doing it? Then we have a diet for you.

Introducing the gluten-only diet. Carbs and starches 24/7. We’re talking artisan breads, luxurious pastas, and luxurious artisan breads. If that sounds delicious and uncomfortable, you’re right. Let’s walk you through it.

Breakfast, that’s easy. Two Pop-tarts, straight out of the microwave. But remember, this is the gluten only diet. Go ahead and scrape off that strawberry frosting. Siphon out the jelly filling with a syringe or small vacuum . Feel good yet?

For lunch, head on over to the altar of gluten, the cathedral of carbohydrates, Panera Breads. Grab yourself some clam chowder in a breadbowl. Then dump the clam chowder in a trashcan. Order a second empty breadbowl. Savor it. Enjoy yourself.

If you’re hungry, the gluten-only movement offers many great snack choices. Couscous, spätzle, matzoh. If you’re thirsty, have a beer or some soda, boiled down to just the syrup. Your mouth should feel dry and starchy, if you’re doing it right.

Dinner is the easiest meal of the day. Four words: Olive Garden unlimited breadsticks.

If you’re appetized by now, that’s normal. But know that the gluten-only movement isn’t all peaches and cream. In fact, peaches and cream are completely forbidden. You may gain 30 pounds in a week. You may go months without a bowel movement. Your body may be as doughy as the foods you’re eating.

This diet will test your willpower. A waiter might say “Do you want a side salad with that plain pasta?” to which you’ll reply: “No. I only eat gluten.” Your body will scream for a single baby carrot. Your belly will beg for roughage. But you can’t spell gluten-only without willpower.

Support is the bread and butter of any successful diet. With us, it’s just the bread. Our official gluten-only community, Flour Power, will be there for you every step of the way. Share wheat-based recipes, debate the pros and cons of spaghetti and linguine, and find solace in the company of others who eschew the devil of gluten from their lives.

Only gluten. Only happiness. www.breadheads.com

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QUIZ: Hey, How Are You?

3 Jan

Hey! Hey, you! I haven’t seen you in years! You look good. How are you? Take this quiz to find out!

 

1. Fancy meeting you here! What’s up, man?

a. Oh, hey! Peter, right?
b. What’s up, dude. Ralph? From accounting?
c. How are you? You’re Joey from the bowling league?
d. Hi, Gunther. It’s Gunther, right? From the planning and zoning committee?

2. No, it’s Kenneth. You remember me. We were neighbors growing up back in Seattle.

a. Oh, Kenneth. Long time no see.
b. From Oak Ridge Lane? What are you doing here?
c. Yoo, Special K! Are you still skateboarding?
d. I think you have the wrong guy.

3. How’s Patricia?

a. She’s good. Really good.
b. Wonderful. She’s thinking of going back to work.
c. Eh, she’s been better. Her plantar fascitis is giving her trouble again.
d. Who?

4. And the kids? Robbie’s bar mitzvah is coming up, right?

a. Yeah, next month. How’d you remember that?
b. No, Robbie’s my youngest. Lauren’s bat mitzvah is soon, though.
c. Yeah, it would be coming up, but we’re not Jewish.
d. I have no children.

5. What are you doing in Fort Lauderdale? I never would have imagined you as the type.

a. Patricia’s family is from around here. We moved here when the kids were little.
b. Oh, we’re just on vacation. Robbie and Lauren love the beach.
c. I’m here on business. I’m working on setting up a South Florida division.
d. Excuse me. I have to go.

6. You know who I just saw, actually? Tony. Remember him from the neighborhood?

a. Oh, Tony. That’s cool.
b. Fat Tony or skinny Tony?
c. Is he out of jail now?
d. Goodbye.

7. I’m going to be around all week. We should grab drinks.

a. Here’s my card. Text me.
b. I’ll try, but I’m busy with the family. I can’t promise you anything.
c. I know a great pizza joint if you like that kind of thing.
d. (You have already walked away.)

If you answered mostly a’s: You’re great. The kids are getting older but everyone’s doing great. Great to see you, man. Give my best to your parents.

If you answered mostly b’s: Things are decent. Patricia’s doing fine, but you feel like your kids are distant. You’re fat now.

If you answered mostly c’s: Nice job hiding it, but things are awful. Patricia’s moving in with her personal trainer, Lauren got a tattoo, and Robbie is in trouble at school. You’re fat now.

If you answered mostly d’s: You don’t know this person. But, things are going pretty well for you nonetheless. Your start-up is growing and you’re thinking of proposing to your girlfriend. Congratulations!

2014 Was the Year of the Butt and Some Other Things, Too

17 Dec

2014. What a wild and crazy time it’s been. This amazing year was filled with amazing people doing amazing things. There were wars, disasters, and miracles. And holy mackerel, there were a lot of great butts.

In February, the ebola outbreak tore its way across West Africa. This horrific disease shocked the world and united us in fear. But we forgot all about that as soon as Nicki Minaj dropped the “Anaconda” video and we were consumed with images of beautiful, buttery bumcakes. What a year.

Two Malaysian flights ended in disaster this year. We’ll remember hearing about all those lives lost on the television. Each and every one of us realized that could have been us. But we could all have been Beyonce’s butt, too. And when we saw that bodacious booty at the VMAs, this year was positively bun-tastic. Big, badass bottoms were truly the stars of 2014.

Additionally, we saw lots of war and conflict this year. From Crimea, to Syria, to Iraq, it seems like we just couldn’t find peace. Despite all our prayers, people were losing their lives to violence all over the world in 2014. And then our prayers were answered, as Kim Kardashian broke the internet with her regal rump. This bouncy, boisterous, buxom backside was the delightful derriere we all needed this year.

Malala Yousafazai captured our hearts when she became the youngest person ever to win the Nobel Peace Prize. Who wasn’t inspired by her bravery in standing up to the Taliban? This more than made up for her rather unspectacular tush, which pales in comparison to the hefty heinies in this year’s Victoria’s Secret Fashion Show. Good golly, those gigantic glutes and beefy badonkadonks were the best thing to happen in 2014.

So goodbye, 2014. With so many ups and downs, highs and lows, joys and sorrows, this was truly a year to remember. But the fantastic fundaments, terrific tushies, and portly posteriors of 2014 were truly unforgettable.

SEE ALSO: Will 2015 be the year we finally tackle climate change or are hips going to make a comeback?

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QUIZ: Does This Look Infected To You?

1 Dec

I cut my finger making risotto last week. Does the cut look infected? Take this quiz to help me find out!

l

1. Hey, does this look infected to you?

a. Maybe.
b. Sort of, yeah.
c. I wouldn’t know.
d. Gross, dude.

2. Should I see a doctor?

a. I would see a doctor, yeah.
b. Does it hurt? If it hurts, I would.
c. How long has it been there?
d. Probably, man.

3. It’s disgusting, I know.

a. Sure is.
b. Totally disgusting.
c. Really nasty.
d. Put that away, dude.

4. Want to see it ooze puss?

a. Certainly not.
b. Nope.
c. That’s vile.
d. Sure, bro.

5. Do you know what the symptoms of an infection are?

a. Google it.
b. Check the internet.
c. Look it up on the web.
d. Dude, have you heard of WebMD?

6. Ok. This website says to watch out for an irregular shape. Is my wound irregularly shaped?

a. Hmm, maybe.
b. It’s not regularly shaped, that’s for sure.
c. Is oval a regular shape?
d. I don’t know, man. Ask your mom or something.

7. What about discoloration? Do I have that?

a. It’s yellow. I don’t know if that means anything, but it’s yellow.
b. It looks like a scab. I don’t know what to tell you.
c. You should get a professional to look at it.
d. Dude, stop.

8. I think I’m going to make an appointment with a dermatologist.

a. Smart thinking.
b. Good choice.
c. My cousin’s a dermatologist. He’s normally booked solid for months, but he’ll free up some time for you.
d. Alright, bro.

9. Thanks for all your help!

a. Don’t mention it.
b. You’re welcome.
c. I’ll call my cousin and let him know you’re coming.
d. No problemo.

 

 

 

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The Cheesemaker’s Daughter

11 Nov

Note: Over the past three days, I have been publishing excerpts from my upcoming romance novels. Each of these stories is set in a different exotic locale and features themes of romance, love, passion, lust, and amorousness. You can find them in a supermarket or airport book store near you.

Young love is something different to everyone. For some, it’s a dank cave full of ricotta. For others, it’s a rank Roquefort on your Weihnachtstag table. Maybe, young love for you is unpasteurized goat’s milk on your lederhosen. For me, love is a Bavarian milkmaid with cassein in her hair.

Greta was the kind of girl who knew her way around an udder. I first chanced upon her in the lush meadows of the low Alps. My father’s prized steer, Günther, had just bolted from the corral. We were in the kitchen, making spatzel, when we first heard his cowbell dinging down into the valley. I rushed to sound my alpenhorn, but Günther was a stubborn beast. Strong in the grain fields, but stubborn as an ass. Begrudgingly, I put on my galoshes and headed out onto the steppe.

Hoping that a fellow dairyman might have recognized our signature brand on Günther’s fleshy undercarriage, I stopped in at a ramshackle old barn. I yodeled loudly to announce my presence. The old building was made of rotting mountain spruce and sized for a baker’s dozen cows. Seeing a light on in the building, and enticed by the smell of fresh milk, I walked toward the door. A Heifer mooed inside, above the sound of squirting udders. As I leaned my head around the doorframe, I laid eyes upon the most beautiful farmhand I’d ever seen in my years as a cheesemonger.

Her hair glistened under a single antiquated lightbulb like Appenzeller in the sun. Her frame was stocky, plump, and hardy, like the most popular goat at the auction haus. Her skin shone due to frequent and plentiful lactose consumption. Her calloused and graceful hands slid effortlessly over the pink udders of the tired, old cow. Her hazel eyes glimpsed me in the doorway, but with her so focused on the milking and me so content to watch her flawless technique, we remained in a tense silence.

However, I could sense that this aged cow was feeling ornery. The cow began to flare her nostrils and stamp her hooves, wriggling her udders to prevent the girl from gaining a grip. The conflict escalated, with the milkmaid tightening her grip and the cow writhing more and more, until the object of my affection threw her arms up in exasperation. The cow lurched, kicking the bucket and sending milk across the barn floor. As the spill drained through the floorboards, I announced my presence.

“Guten tag, I am searching for a lost steer,” I stareted. My voice trembled with each word. “I have known him since Kindergarten and he disappeared like a poltergeist. He is a döppelganger to that bull there, and I implore you not to find schadenfreude in my misfortune. Is it not the zeitgeist to help a fellow milkman?”

She replied sweetly, “I’m sorry, but I haven’t seen your cow. I would love to help you find him, but I need to get this cow milked.”

She told me her name was Greta and that her father owned this farm. She said that if she didn’t collect enough milk tonight, her father would not allow her to go off and be a nanny for the seven mischievous children of an Austrian navy captain. Taking her hand in mine, I felt the signature abrasions of a forceful milker. I slid behind Greta on her milking stool, wrapped my arms around hers, and whispered, “Mein strudel, allow me.”

 

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Love in the Mine Shafts

10 Nov

Note: Over three days, I will be publishing excerpts from my upcoming romance novels. Each of these stories is set in a different exotic locale and features themes of romance, love, passion, lust, and amorousness. You can find them in a supermarket or airport book store near you.

 

Workin’ down at the mine, a man don’t got a whole lotta time for the finer sex. Most always, I wake with the rooster and go to bed with him too, if only because I like a chicken to keep me company while I sleep. By the time I clock outta the shaft, there ain’t enough daylight for me to go out hunting for broads, so I keep a pretty lonely life.

All that changed the day the gender barrier was broken in the coal mining industry. Most of the company town had their long johns in a twist over there being a lady in the mines, but I was too busy being tired and busy to give much of a hoot. So long as she didn’t dig my coal or turn the company on to the fact that my picket fence is two feet beyond my property lines, she was alright by me.

The first time I laid eyes upon the broad was in the company store. We were both buying rice and beans using our commissary slips. Like I said, I didn’t think much about her being in town. Only queer thing was, this lady coulda been in pictures if she had her druthers. Made no sense havin’ a girl all gussied up like that breaking her back down in the mine. But, my job ain’t to make decisions. My job’s to mine coal.

That fateful mornin’ I woke up just as I always do. My rooster crowed and my crow roostered and I popped outta bed. I thought about taking a shower, but decided it’d be a better use of the hot water to make me some coffee. I put on my uniform and took my lunch and helmet and headed down to the mine. Turned out, the new girl would be in my shift. Some of the boys in my shift were fixin’ to make a pass on her, but let me tell you, I fell out of the ugly tree and hit every stick on the way down. Figured I didn’t have half a lick at taking her to some honky-tonk or nothin’, so I just hunkered down and got down to my work.

By the time we was down in the shaft, it was hotter than a Rolex in a pawn shop. Everybody in the crew got down to cracking ore, but it appeared the new gal was having some trouble. Now, I ain’t so high cotton I can’t help out a coworker, so I shuffled on over to give her a hand.

“What’s a honey as purdy as you doing down in a coal shaft?” I asked her.

“Hell, same thing you’re doing down here, trying to catch a buck,” she said.

“You mind if I gave you a hand? Looks like you ain’t got a whole lotta experience yet,” I said.

The more I looked at her, the more I liked. Her eyes were dark as coal, her hair was black as coal, her skin was getting covered in coal dust, but her heart was clearly not of coal. Every time she looked up at me, my heart shot up like the mine elevator and I wanted to sing like a canary. From then on, our love burned like a coal-fed fire. I never heard of a solar panel doing nothing like that.

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Ye Olde Romance Novel

3 Nov

Note: Over the next three days, I will be publishing excerpts from my upcoming romance novels. Each of these stories is set in a different exotic locale and features themes of romance, love, passion, lust, and amorousness. You can find them in a supermarket or airport book store near you.

 

Lady Porston’s Ye Olde Shoppe is a fine establishment wherein one might purchase a loaf of hard-tac for kin in the War, sacks of barley with which to prepare Stews and Gruels, or even barter brass buttons or copper nails for imported Tonics and Spirits. One day, when the whole of the town had exited the Chapel after the Morn’s prayers and had yet to congregate on the Common Green for militia drills, I did pay a visit to Lady Porston for the purpose of attaining calf enhancements pads of the Elegant and Current fashion. Beyond the front Stoop, a poor and wretched alleycat carried a lowly sewer rat betwixt her claws, and further beyond stood a Fair and Gentle maiden, an enchanting Vixen, upon whom I had never feasted mine Eyes.

As I charted my predestined course toward her Heavenly body, I did feel a firm and Stirring drumbeat beneath my breast. Boom-Ta-Ta-Boom-Boom-Ta-Ta-Ta. During my navigation, the Firmament opened and let forth a shivering Torrent, yet the Maiden must not have owned a Quality Almanack, for she wore a Cape of satin with no galoshes. Summoning my Deepest courages, I raced toward the Intoxicating mistress and placed my coat upon her frame, revealing a pleasant wrinkle upon her Countenance, for surely Eros and Aphrodite had drawn me in their Game of lots.

Her mane hung in Splendid tendrils, as if they were over-Ripened vines of mungbean and Common Sprouts. Her eyes, the Dramatic stage upon which her minds’ players revealed comedies and tragedies of the Highest order, shone with the bright intensity of a Witch burning on the pyre. Hark! her ankles loomed beneath the midnight of her stockings, presenting themselves like the first lumps of Carrot of the Harvest, a sight so captivating one wishes he could Render it in charcoal or marble. Her anatomy Flowed like the town stream where Typhus and other Great Afflicktions grew and where unkempt Hooligans and Tramps might hunt for toads.

I sang: Huzzah! divine Creature! Let me cry your praises upon the highest Steeples and through the lowest Caverns and dungeons! The whole of the Colonies shall know of your Beauty. Blessed Fruit, reveal your charms and allow me to escort you to a Ball, or even a festive Tavern, so that I might make you mine and put you to work on my Plantation and breed learned Sons. What say you?

She said, hushed and low: But what if Bishop Franklin or Lord McClintock should catch us in this sordid affair? I am but a lowly indentured servant! Who can know what fearsome wrath they shall wreak on us? What Misery hath our chance meeting wrought?

And I declared: My Queen, my Gentle Friend, my Lovely Prize, we shall embark for the wilderness! We shall eat plump berries and feast on the Flesh of small rodents there, in the kingdom of beasts and Monsters. We will make our homestead and Plant our seed and live like Forsaken fools on the Fringes of the world. Have I your hand in this Precarious Proposition?

And she said: Aye!

 

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Nothing to See Here

27 Oct

(A reporter is out on the street doing a stand-up segment about a robbery that took place in a convenience store.)

REPORTER: Police are investigating a robbery that took place last night at this convenience store on Oak Street. The robber is described as a Caucasian male, 6’11’’,  wearing a grass skirt, a Kiss the Cook apron, a large and floppy sombrero, and quote “unmistakably distinctive” glasses. The police have asked that anyone who sees the suspect immediately call the Crimestoppers hotline. They added that the man is described as “totally unmissable” and “supremely recognizable.” Local residents say they are shocked by what happened here.

(Cut to the reporter interviewing a man on the street. He is a 6’11”  Caucasian male wearing a grass skirt, a Kiss the Cook apron, a large and floppy sombrero, and unmistakably distinctive glasses.)

REPORTER: You were there at the robbery last night?
MAN (panicked): What? What are you implying?
REPORTER: We just wanted your account of what happened here.
MAN (nervously): Oh. Oh. What makes you think I was here last night?
REPORTER: You told our producer you were.
MAN: Right, right. I was here. I said that and that is the story. That is definitely what happened. Thank you for the interview. (MAN begins to walk away.)
REPORTER: Wait, sir, you didn’t tell us anything yet.
MAN: Yeah, I was just in there and some stuff was robbed and it was totally crazy.
REPORTER: What do you mean, “totally crazy”?
MAN: Like, the whole thing was totally crazy. This is just a really nice neighborhood, I think. It looks like one. If I was going to rob something I’d probably rob this. But, I probably wouldn’t expect a robbery here? I live here, right?
REPORTER (quizzical): Sir, what did you say you witnessed at the robbery?
MAN: Oh, well, I mean there’s a lot of things that can drive a man to robbery. You know how hard it is to find work out there these days. Sometimes a guy just can’t catch a break. But the man doesn’t care. You ask for a little forgiveness, just a little more time, but the next day your water’s turned off and now you’ve got no place to shower. You have to walk around covered in dirt and sweat and then next thing you know everybody thinks you’re homeless. You try and try to say “No, I’m not homeless. I just don’t have running water at my place but I just paid the bill and they’re in the process of turning it back on as we speak.” But nobody wants to hear it and your landlord thinks some homeless guy is breaking into your apartment, and he changes the lock and calls the police. So now you’re trying and trying to get in your front door and the fuzz comes running from out from nowhere. Now, you haven’t done anything wrong but you start running and running because instinct just kicks in in a situation like that and you ran track in high school so you’re still pretty quick on your feet but it’s been a while since you actually got out there for a jog and a diet of instant ramen and pizza hasn’t been gentle on your stamina so you get kind of winded and all you want is a water so you pull into a convenience store and you try to pay for it but the attendant at the counter is apathetic and foreign and the language barrier is really hindering the transaction and all the while the cops are hot on your tail so you just grab the water and go and in hindsight stealing something is a terrible way to try and persuade the law of your innocence but you never know how you’re going to react in a situation like that and I’m not trying to tell you a sob story to try and get you to let me off easy because I’m guilty and I deserve whatever punishment you want to give me, but please, your honor, my story is completely truthful and I’m begging for your forgiveness. (MAN sobs.)
REPORTER: Sir, what are you trying to say?
MAN: (Sobbing intensifies.)
REPORTER: Well, this robbery is certainly taking a dramatic toll on the emotions of local residents. Until the police can locate the suspect they’re searching for, this community can only keep their eyes pealed and hope for the best. Back to you in the studio.

 

 

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Local Mom Assuages Ebola Fears

12 Oct

In a moving conversation with her 4-year-old child, local woman Tina Brody has rallied a nation addled by fears of the ebola virus.

“You can’t get ebola as long as you wash your hands,” she told her son, Luke. “You have been washing your hands, haven’t you?”

Luke came prepared with a variety of incisive queries about the epidemic, which started in West Africa and has claimed more than 4000 lives. “But what if the ebola bites me while I’m sleeping?,” he asked.

Brody countered with her expert insight into epidemiology and disease transmission. “Do you know how small the ebola virus is?” she asked her child. “It’s more scared of us than we are of it.”

Some of Luke’s questions resonated deeply with concerned Americans, afflicted by the wave of ebola hysteria that is sweeping the nation. “Can Derek Jeter get ebola?” he asked.

“I’m not going to let Derek Jeter get ebola,” Tina answered. “And if Derek Jeter can’t get it, how can you, Lukie?”

Brody went on to skewer the news media’s coverage of the outbreak. “Where did you even find out about this, pumpkin?” Brody said. “You shouldn’t be watching the news.”

Tina even addressed the geopolitical nature of the issue, saying, “Do you remember that book we read about Africa? Right, where lions and elephants live. Well, people live very differently over there, sweetheart, and we’re very safe.”

Luke had one final question for his mother on the subject. “But, Mommy, what if the ebola virus begins to claim lives here on American soil due to systematic hubris and lax protocols?,” he said. “Will the Obama Administration and the CDC violate essential civil liberties in their effort to quarantine the outbreak?”

Brody’s answer, a soaring piece of rhetoric, will likely be the knockout punch in the fight against ebola fears. “As long as you stay healthy, you won’t get ebola,” she said. “So sneeze into your elbow and eat your vegetables. Now come give mommy a hug.”

 

 

 

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12 Excuses We All Gave for Not Doing Our Homework

18 Sep

1. My dog ate my homework!

The classic. Where is this mysterious race of paper-eating dogs?

2. I didn’t have time. 

If only I could still say this one at work! LOL

3. It was too hard.

If I had a nickel for every time I said this, I wouldn’t know how much money I had because the math homework was always too hard.

4. My dad said he’d help me, but he was at work late.

In all honesty, not the first time Dad let me down.

5. Dad wasn’t even at home this morning to help me before school.

Where could he be?

6. He told my mom he was just getting a pack of cigarettes and some scratchers on his way home.

Mommy, where’s Daddy?

7. I’m not doing my homework until Dad comes back.

What do you mean he’s not coming back?

8. The sound of sobbing was too distracting.

Mommy, stop crying. You said it yourself. He’s gone.

9. I just couldn’t bring myself to get out of bed this morning.

Please, Lord, take this weight off my shoulders.

10. My mommy couldn’t help me with the work, but she’s going back to school at night so she can.

My mommy can be just as good a daddy as that good-for-nothing oaf ever was!

11. I didn’t have time. I was too busy taking on the world, just my mother and I.

I’m going to college in a few years, and when I walk across the stage in my cap and gown, the infinite possibilities of my bright future laid out before me, my wild ambitions twinkling behind my eyes, I want my father to look at me and know that he made the biggest mistake of his life when he walked away.

12. I did the homework, but I left it at home.

I’m serious! I really did it. Would I lie to you?

 

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