Tuesday, November 22, 2005

diary 11/21/05: i eat a lot, and then type a bunch of gibberish

166 this morning. I am trying to gain weight, in a sick way. I look at my body and it’s doughy again. My saddlebags are bigger. You can’t see the bottom of my lower set of abs. My ass and the backs of my thighs have man-cellulite.

I don’t care. It feels good to eat. It feels fantastic, actually. Sugar makes me euphoric. It feels good to eat and it feels horrible to work out. 166 is nine pounds over my lowest weight. I’m only going to gain more; I’m going to skip three workouts (at least) for Thanksgiving, and you better believe that is going to be one fucking epic binge. Most of my past binges have been dessert and accoutrements only but this bad boy is going to be a monster meal as well— and let me tell you right now—I know I’m gaining weight, and I know I shouldn’t— but this is going to be the fucking binge. It’s going to make the brunch last week- this buffet at my friend's beach club where there are no jews and no blacks, where a guy stands there attentively in a chef's hat waiting to cook you custom waffles and omelettes- look like a fucking joke. The brunch- waffle, big fresh Belgian waffle with strawberries, syrup, butter and whip cream. Not some mean amount of butter either, a fucking whole little scoop... two chocolate croissants... a three egg omelette with mushrooms and cheese, two cheese blintzes, about a pound of fruit— blueberries, raspberries, strawberries and mangoes- bacon, sausage. Coffee with cream. And mimosas— like four or five mimosas. Champagne has 120 calories per drink. OJ probably 50, maybe more. After that— french fries at their little grill. An ice cream cone. An additional ice cream cone, in which we dipped an aditional order or french fries- not kidding, although I can’t take credit for that idea. French fries dipped in seasonal squash soup. Chicken fingers. Part of a grilled cheese... what the fuck else?

Then I came home and grilled up a London broil over some apple wood, and just hovered around it, eating little bits off it and drinking whiskey. Whiskey has 100 calories per drink.

So- thanskgiving... this weekend I just had that enormous piece of cake, and two large glasses of milk with it. Milk has 160 calories per glass. That’s the kicker. Beverages kill you. The cake must have been about a grand easy... a pint of ice cream is about that much. One of those really big cookies from a coffee shop is about 750 calories, and considering that this piece of cake had about five times the mass of one of those, and was clearly one of those ultra-buttery, rich, dense and also sugary, you know it’s just the maximum amount of calories conceivable— maybe 1500. maybe 2000! Holy fuck! I mean, it had bits of Skor bars in it, right? And 1 Skor bare is maybe 200 calories, there was at least whole one in there and the cake itself was the size of a cinder block. If I had had a whole one of those cakes in front of me, I would have eaten it.

If I had had two of those cakes in front of me, I would have eaten them. I’m like the fucking great cornholio. I can eat sugar infinitely. And then I wake up on a weekday morning and my body isn’t quite ready to take a full shit— it just grudgingly, grindingly squeezes out this hard little acorn... as oppose to the shit on a Saturday, where I wake up a little later and excrete this mountain— this arm-thick boa constrictor that extends out of my ass and down the pipe for like 12 seconds before it cuts off, followed by– what the fuck is this fucking autoformatting, why does it want to suddenly change things to a large, legible font when there are guests here looking right at me.. only when I’m talking about my shit in great and unmistakable (unambiguous) detail...... but that’s why I gain so much weight so fast. I’m literally just carrying the food around in my bowels until days later.

Anyway, the point being that I’ve been feeling pretty good these past couple days. At times bordering on manic. And it’s that cool kind of feeling good, that ability to let go and not give a fuck. Not to try to write. Not to feel like I have to work out. Not feeling like gaining some weight is going to be the end of the world. Not feeling like not having a woman is going to be the end of the world.

4 Comments:

Blogger Julie said...

I'm in a foreign country sick on Thankgiving with no turkey and no stuffing. My only consolation is the huge pot of chicken stock I have boiling on the stove, my leftover halloween candy and the fact that my satelite now gets Fox news en espanol in Miami so I can watch the Thanksgiving Day parade, even though they call it "Accion de Gracias," which is mildly depressing.

What is the great cornholio?

6:51 PM  
Blogger vulkoqq said...

This comment has been removed by a blog administrator.

10:48 PM  
Blogger vulkoqq said...

The Great Cornholio was a Beavis & Butthead episode named for an alter ego Beavis would assume when he binged on candy and went into a hyperglycemic frenzy.

Yeah, see-- you're in Venezuela, though, which means going to town on that candy would make you *more* attractive... man, I would love to be able to be fat and not give a fuck.

If you miss stuffing-- I know it's not the same without Turkey, but get a big chicken... get a loaf of pre-sliced white bread, some butter, garlic, rosemary, sage, salt and pepper and a bottle of wine. Toast the bread dark, about 2 slices per pound of meat. Simmer a small amount of water, like a cup or so, in a saucepan. Melt a stick of butter in it. Add about 3/4 cup of wine, then your sliced garlic and spices. Break the bread into chunks and drop it into the liquid. Stir it with a wooden spoon until it's about the right consistency for stuffing-- if it's too dry, add more water and if it's too moist, toast & add more bread. Stick the stufing in the chicken and roast at 350 for about 20 minutes per pound. Roast the bird breast side down at first, then when you're about 20 minutes from being done turn the oven up to like 475. Remove the stuffing and put it in some foil, open topped, with maximunm surface area exposed. Drizzle chicken juice on it. Flip the bird over to breast side up. Put the stuffing and bird back in the oven. When the chicken is brown and the thigh meat is about 160 degrees, pull it out and let it stand for 10 minutes before carving.

10:54 PM  
Blogger Julie said...

I am going to try that stuffing recipe post haste. Something about stuffing...Anyway, you know that on saturday mornings, there are trucks that sell live chickens here? They will chop the neck off for you. People actually buy chickens like that and pluck them. I feel so sad when I see one of those trucks full of death row poultry. I wonder if they have British accents like in Chicken Run. "I dont want to be Arroz con Pollo!"

Anyways I remember the Great Cornholio now. You have an excellent memory.

6:00 PM  

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