How is it possible that I have abstained from alcohol for twelve years but I can’t stay away from ice cream and french fries for twelve days? If I’m out past 7pm and I drive past a supermarket – there is an inner battle in my head over ice cream that is palpable. It might also be audible. I had sweet potato fries yesterday because those are – ya know – diet fries. You practically lose weight when you eat sweet potato fries. Not sure who started this lie but it’s a good one. I can’t wait to find out lemon bars are calorie free. I love people who eat those nutrition bars as if they had any kind of nutrition in them. If it comes in a package or box it is going to make your ass bigger. Sorry. Those things are not a meal in a bar – they are three or four meals in a bar and they are going straight to your thighs. The end. I started running again recently which is basically a permission slip to eat like an idiot. “I ran today – I can have this cupcake. It doesn’t even count. It’s like free calories.” Right. Never mind that I run about a mile and a half which is equivalent to running – nothing. A mile and a half is about one calorie burned. The air I breathe while I’m running has more calories in it than the calories I burn on my heidithon. But I do it because I want to live longer. I want my hips to be the ones I was born with when I turn 103 which is how long I’ve decided I’m going to live. That seems like a nice age. If anyone ever heard the music I listen to while jogging I would probably be arrested. There is more pop in my ipod than the cooler at a 7-11. If there were calories in my mix I’d die from a diabetic sugary overdose. Adam Levine sounds best when you’re breathing so heavy you can’t really hear. He’s so butch. He’s my running coach. He’s also thinner than me. I couldn’t fit into his jeans. This pisses me off. He only dates supermodels. This pisses me off more. Anyone who thinks they’re going to have a real relationship with someone who had to spend zero time on anything other than their looks is an idiot. Here’s the real secret from Victoria. Those chicks are all mind numbingly dull. That’s the nighty night story I tell myself every time I down a tub of Jenni’s Brambleberry Crunch ice cream in bed.