My lovely wife has a theory that I think everyone needs to become familiar with, as follows:
After consuming a meal, the food that has entered your stomach, being of irregular shape, leaves unused space in your stomach. Ice cream eaten immediately following a meal melts and fills in those unused spaces, making for a more efficient use of stomach space. As you aren't using any more space in your stomach, the calories in the ice cream are considered null and void, having no effect on your overall calorie intake.
At peril of my life and with complete awareness of the unsmartness of it, I am going to disagree with my wife, and call the whole theory bogus! Bupkis! Insanity! It's this kind of thinking that has gotten us to such a sad state in this country! That's right--I'm talking about the obesity crisis. In contrast to my wife's theory, I would like to strongly urge Congress to take the following action to stem the tidal wave of obesity:
Each person in the country should be assigned an Individual Confectionery Restriction and Allotment Policy--ICRAP for short. Basically, everyone is allowed only a certain amount of sweets daily--a daily sweet eating cap, if you will. Anyone who eats more than their allotment will be subject to enormous fines and possible jail time. Of course, there are those who will constantly consume less than their ICRAP level, and so a system will be put in place where those people (including diabetics, really healthy people, anorexics, and lactose-intolerants) can trade their unused ICRAP to others who wish to consume more than their ICRAP for a set dollar amount.
This will immediately serve as an avenue to decrease the average demand or sweets, and create a new, healthy America. In addition, there will be great economic benefits. As demand for the sweets decreases, the prices will rise. And higher prices are much better for you, and for the sweet-making companies. They will also be able to pay their employees more because the higher prices mean they will make more money. It's a win-win-win-win-win-win-win...is that enough wins for you?...situation!
So support ICRAP, and support hope and change for America's future!
6.22.2008
5.17.2008
Sleep Deprivation
I'm feeling unusually unsmart today. I think it may have something to do with the recent lack of sleep that has been part of my life. To shed light on this phenomenon, I think that it should be duly noted that my lovely wife gave birth to our second son this week. There is nothing like a newborn in the family to shake things up. Some common side effects of having a new baby are:
-Lack of sleep (as previously described). I don't feel terribly bad for myself, though, as my wife has a greater number of shifts on the job than I do, so she is running on fewer hours than I. I would gladly take over some of her shifts to let her rest, but I'm not correctly equipped for the job, as it were.
-Increase in cute factor. Let's face it, nothing but a baby can elicit the overwhelming volume of "Oohs", "Aahs", and other inane babble. Actually, I can think of two exceptions to that rule: extreme drunkenness and massive head trauma.
-Increase in random visitors. Not that I don't mind the ones bringing food or gifts (none of which, by the way, are addressed to me), but there seems to be an increase in unsmartness pertaining to the proper scheduling of visits, including arrival and departure times. You need an air traffic controller outside your hospital room to make sure there are no fiery wrecks. And this at a time when baby has just been squeezed through a small hole, then poked, prodded and measured for days; and mother has just done the squeezing along with all its undesirable aftermath and is trying (futilely, it seems) to recover. This increase in unsmartness seems to be directly proportional to the undesirability of the visitor.
-Decrease in food storage space. This is especially common in areas with high concentrations of Mormons, particularly adult females. Not that I mind; I'm just not sure where to put it all. Most at risk is freezer space, which is generally lower in cubic footage that other types of food storage (like, say, stuff you can throw in the basement). Luckily, there hasn't yet arrived the influx of ham and funeral potatoes (more on the name at another time) than is usually expected.
There are other side effects of baby arrival, however, I'm falling asleep as I type (it's 1pm). Needless to say, newborn arrival is directly connected to increases in unsmartness for all involved.
-Lack of sleep (as previously described). I don't feel terribly bad for myself, though, as my wife has a greater number of shifts on the job than I do, so she is running on fewer hours than I. I would gladly take over some of her shifts to let her rest, but I'm not correctly equipped for the job, as it were.
-Increase in cute factor. Let's face it, nothing but a baby can elicit the overwhelming volume of "Oohs", "Aahs", and other inane babble. Actually, I can think of two exceptions to that rule: extreme drunkenness and massive head trauma.
-Increase in random visitors. Not that I don't mind the ones bringing food or gifts (none of which, by the way, are addressed to me), but there seems to be an increase in unsmartness pertaining to the proper scheduling of visits, including arrival and departure times. You need an air traffic controller outside your hospital room to make sure there are no fiery wrecks. And this at a time when baby has just been squeezed through a small hole, then poked, prodded and measured for days; and mother has just done the squeezing along with all its undesirable aftermath and is trying (futilely, it seems) to recover. This increase in unsmartness seems to be directly proportional to the undesirability of the visitor.
-Decrease in food storage space. This is especially common in areas with high concentrations of Mormons, particularly adult females. Not that I mind; I'm just not sure where to put it all. Most at risk is freezer space, which is generally lower in cubic footage that other types of food storage (like, say, stuff you can throw in the basement). Luckily, there hasn't yet arrived the influx of ham and funeral potatoes (more on the name at another time) than is usually expected.
There are other side effects of baby arrival, however, I'm falling asleep as I type (it's 1pm). Needless to say, newborn arrival is directly connected to increases in unsmartness for all involved.
4.29.2008
My Wife the Cereal Junkie
It's a catchy name for a first post, I know. I've been meaning to start this for some time, but I'm so unsmart I can't remember to do it when I have time--which is quite a lot lately. Too many other things rattling around in my head lately, among them the arrival of a new baby boy who should be here in a couple weeks at the very most. Which leads me to the namesake of this title's post: my lovely wife.
There are few things in this world a man should not do in regard to a wife who is eight months (plus) pregnant, the least of which is tell her she looks fat. (That, of course, is a capital crime at any time in a woman's life, let alone during pregnancy.) Another very important rule is to avoid any use of the combination of letters "N" and "O", especially when it comes to food.
My wife, even when not pregnant, loves cold cereal. It's a constant in our marriage. The last several times we have gone to the store, cereal has been far from our list of things to buy. Nevertheless, it gets added to the list, generally after all the other shopping has been done. "Let's get some new cereal!" she hints. As my tongue, teeth and lips begin to form the unsmartest of all phrases--namely, "We don't need any."--I feel a sharp pain pierce my back between the fifth and sixth ribs. My breathing shortens, and my heart struggles to beat as her eye daggers rip through my flesh. "Sure, honey. What kind do you want?" I manage to force it out between painful breaths, overcoming my natural male tendencies. I'm unsmart, but I'm not that unsmart.
There are few things in this world a man should not do in regard to a wife who is eight months (plus) pregnant, the least of which is tell her she looks fat. (That, of course, is a capital crime at any time in a woman's life, let alone during pregnancy.) Another very important rule is to avoid any use of the combination of letters "N" and "O", especially when it comes to food.
My wife, even when not pregnant, loves cold cereal. It's a constant in our marriage. The last several times we have gone to the store, cereal has been far from our list of things to buy. Nevertheless, it gets added to the list, generally after all the other shopping has been done. "Let's get some new cereal!" she hints. As my tongue, teeth and lips begin to form the unsmartest of all phrases--namely, "We don't need any."--I feel a sharp pain pierce my back between the fifth and sixth ribs. My breathing shortens, and my heart struggles to beat as her eye daggers rip through my flesh. "Sure, honey. What kind do you want?" I manage to force it out between painful breaths, overcoming my natural male tendencies. I'm unsmart, but I'm not that unsmart.
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