But I have decided to turn over a new leaf and not feel guilty today � mostly out of stubbornness, but we�ll get to that later. I�ve just decided that there are more important things in life than the size of my ass. Plus, to paraphrase that genius Chris Rock, there are so many places on this planet where people worry about starving to death and here I am worried about a few extra pounds. I need to put things in perspective.

Yeah, so that�s how I�m feeling today anyway. Ask me again after I work out twice as hard tonight because I ate so much over the weekend and therefore have difficulty getting out of my car tomorrow morning. Cuz you know it�s gonna happen.

I will say�John and I pretty much set a land-speed record in food-inhalation this weekend. Our only saving grace is that a lot of what we were eating was fruit. And yeah, we also therefore set a record for trips to the potty, but I�ll spare you those details�except to say that you can sure tell we�ve known each other for so many years. I don�t even blush about suffering an extreme bout of gas in his presence.

I also kind of threw my lower back out yesterday, which sucks. I know exactly how I did it, too. It wasn�t totally worth it, in all honesty, but I was having fun at the time. It just better not hurt tonight because I absolutely must work out in a big way.

I used my �heating pad� on my injured muscle last night and this morning. My heating pad is a flannel bag full of beans that you heat up in the microwave. It form-fits to wherever you need it, which is groovy. Other than that, I don�t know why it�s supposed to be better than your average, plug-in-the-wall heating pad. The only bummer about the bean bag is that you have to re-heat it every once in a while, but it really does stay hot for a long time and actually you�re not supposed to stay on heating pads for too long anyway.

Back to the weekend�we didn�t do much, except that John managed to drive me a bit batty. He�s talking about not coming down next weekend and frankly I think I could use the break from him (although I suggested going up there to visit him this time, prior to being driven wonky; but now the idea is out there and I think I might feel weird about backing off, should it come to that�).

Let�s just say�John is never happier than when he can appear to be an expert on something�anything. He is never happier than when he can be telling someone else what to do or how to proceed. It can get annoying because hey, ya know what? I don�t really need your advice twenty-four seven. I mean after a while it starts to feel like, �What do I look like, an idiot? Do you really think I don�t know that already?� only you can�t really say anything because a) he�s only trying to be helpful and b) it�s a total �I�m a man and I need to feel needed�/�Mars� thing. Ya just gotta know this about men, going in. But I swear John is way worse in this regard than most members of his sex. And since he�s feeling a bit down in the dumps lately, this oh-so-attractive trait is making a frequent appearance.

I understand all of this, but that doesn�t mean it doesn�t bug the crap outta me.

Oh yeah�so stubbornness.

John decided to lecture me yesterday about my eating habits.

My immediate reaction was to put down the peach cobbler I was eating in order to guffaw.

Granted, I ate a lot over the weekend and the weekend prior. But not as much as he did. Also granted, he�s a man and about twice my size, but don�t you think you�re being a bit of a stickler for details when you point that out?

Plus, I�d like to point out that we were pretty much immobile all weekend not because I�m a lazy sod. Quite to the contrary, I seem to recall bringing up the fact that I wanted to go for a walk along the beach not once, not twice but four different times over the past two days. Each time, my ideas were vetoed by you, Caesar, so don�t be talking to me like I�m the one who�s lazy now.

I do tend to eat more than I should on the weekends. However, A) It�s not my fault! It�s John�s fault! He always has to eat. What am I gonna do, sit there and just watch him? I guess I could, but let�s be real here. B) I eat like the proverbial bird all week long. It�s like storing up Weight Watcher points�isn�t it? C) Um�you think the mota might have something to do with it?

So my response when John said he�s worried about my habits was not exactly to guffaw, truthfully. I actually got rather angry. The synopsis of my rant is as follows: I pointed out that first of all, he really was totally off his nut to be saying this to me, when his eating habits are way worse than mine, all week long (plus, he rarely works out in any way during the week; it�s only when he comes to see me that I make him go for walks and stuff). I made an example of this by going over what each of us had eaten over the weekend. My second point was that I really do eat very well all week and yes, I have been totally blowing that pattern on the weekends, but ya know what? I�ve also been stressed beyond comprehension for the past several weeks and frankly absolutely sick of eating boring food by the time the weekends roll around and I think I am entitled to a little culinary enjoyment. I was lastly quick to point out that I myself just brought up this very subject like three weeks ago and his reaction was pretty much the same as mine in that he said he deprives himself all week long and would like to be able to go out to dinner on the weekend without feeling guilty about it.

Then I finished off the second half of my cobbler, just to spite him.

~~~

What to say about the Lakers? They won yesterday, of course, but frankly they were not playing like they wanted to. First of all, is there something wrong with Shaq and nobody is telling us? Because that�s the only excuse I can come up with for his limited number of playing minutes. In case you haven�t figured it out by now, it�s a lot easier for us to win when Shaq is in the game. He should be playing if not the whole game, damn near the whole game.

~~~

The guy who has been playing Big Bird on Sesame Street since its inception has written a �behind the scenes� tell-all book about his life. In one chapter, he says that Jim Henson once made him cry.

I just find that�so very, very surreal�All morning, I have been trying to envision a scenario in which Jim Henson would make another man cry�

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