Thursday, October 30, 2014

E-Bowl-Of



Given my graying growing girth I have to watch what I eat, or more accurately WATCH what other people eat. Don’t worry I have plenty of flaccid fatty flesh reserves and cisterns of black coffee to tide me over until the Dairy Queen and Burger King get together to make a fat-free baby burger I can nurture without guilt. In the meantime though, I think it would be nice if I could find a guaranteed, calorie shredding, diet idea that will help me slim down just by sitting in my easy-geezer chair!

You see that lumpy yawn of a divan is where I do my best calorie cutting (into bite sized chunks). Yes in the presence of those crushed plush n’ crumby tufted buttons is where I write and stress EAT most often, especially after the TV news drones ceaselessly on about curb lurking dangers and societal discomforts. Who can blame both my mouth and my stomach for growling when these days every time I turn on the tele some floosy newsie starts spewing doozies about E-bowl-of this and E-bowl-of that.

So naturally my musty dusty brain filled with a murky milky mush calls to the claws to grab my anchor of a laptop, and the computer that sits atop it, to seek out this ‘E-bowl of’ cereal site that everyone is abuzz about.  I am intrigued since what personage of a portly persuasion doesn’t want to stare at lusty, glossy and saucy pictures of wet n’ grainy, fiber-rich cereals all from the comfort of their own couch? I would think even skinny, ice shelved penguins on egg-watch too might get a little hot and bothered and see their feather temps rise under such extreme conditions.

Maybe I have misspelled it for I find no mention of a bland pablum diet and an e-fitness program that is web-based without the mess of real spiders and their unfortunate encounters with heavy free weights. Too bad since who knows If I had really shed a sled-full of my sugarloaf I might have been able to reach out and preach the benefits of ‘E-bowl-of’ to the world beyond my Lazy-Boy. Yep, If I were lucky, I might have even gone to the SOURCE where this trend all started – then as the official spokesperson, I could fly back home and REALLY spread the word in person to those TV news-pukes who always make me hungry!


Thursday, October 23, 2014

Over-couture



I have to admit that I am not the snappiest turtle or dresser that you will ever meet. Of course I care about my appearance but the truth is I don’t really care if other primates don’t prove receptive to my presentation. I typically try to wear a light fleece jacket for most public hangings (of artwork) but when the lint builds up into a genuine fur coat or if my nose and toes turn bluer than normal from the cold it’s time for the OVERCOAT.

Though our rumpled exteriors are similar I do not own a traditional ‘oh so cool’ ‘Colombo-style’ khaki coat since I live more in a depression than in a trench. Anyway my wife already fears what I will do pants-less when bored in ordinary outerwear with free-flowing flaps, so she swaddles and keeps me occupied with pockets full of linty mints, stripped zippers and hidden snaps. Typically now when the weather turns foul like my breath, I’m routinely poured into and cinched up tight inside a bulky hooded ripstop cocoon to keep most of winter out and hopefully my cold shoulders or other pointy parts in.

Like that baseball crime-fighter Batman, I like to keep my gear handy and strapped to me at all times for emergencies. So these jumbo jackets come in handy for a fat-cat’s hat n’ glove storage and on occasion when my bicycle’s airbags fail. However those puffy parkas in concert with my hulking hide also make it nearly impossible to locate a set of keys, coins, or a ball point pen without a side-trip to the airport to be scanned by a metal detector.


Can’t anyone boast of a toasty overcoat that I can actually find things in that’s smaller than a bread-box, or at least is sewn with a transparent marsupial pouch to see the bun crumbs breed in my pocket bottoms? Finally modern couture that’s kind to my tiny insect mind – jackets that not only keep me and the thorax warm but also entertains too; with sea monkey stores on one side and an ant farm on the other. Anyway those salty shrimpy snackitizers will come in handy if ever forced to bivouac in a giant forest with my fellow formicidae, under the stars and a bounce-house sized winter, stuffed n’ tufted toga, to keep the Queen and me warm.


Thursday, October 16, 2014

Transformer



Whenever the belt around my neck starts to get loose, I make it a practice to wander into a people-feed store and see what’s on the menu. Unlike most geezers in training, I don’t mind shopping for chow since what better way to get exercise while I stock up on nutritional staples that the wife typically avoids like cookies, candy, and waxy wheels of cheese. Anyway my doughy bone-bag bulk always benefits from a stroll through the zoo and a chance to observe slow-roll meandering oldsters in their natural habitat. 

With this year’s change of seasons though, suddenly society’s younger guns all seem to be treating me TOO a bit differently now. A furtive glare here or an innocent side-step there; yes I notice the subtle impatience and frequent over-aggressive cart incursions as I expertly ponder fiber values between the lowly pinto or more costly black bean. I check myself for oozing wounds, leprosy, or some other stinky societal woe that would deserve such disgust, but upon reflection (off my head) I appear inert and unchanged - just as I’ve always been. 

Oh sure I now prefer the smell of Mentholatum over Old Spice, but what’s it prove - that I enjoy soothing hot water bottles and old time mystery radio shows over reality TV. (coincidentally YES!) So what if I cinch my pants around my chest and my ashen translucent skin no longer is brawny and tawny like days gone by. What do you care if Velcro is the kibble of choice to feed my plush suede Hush Puppies and those threadbare baggy shirts I wear are NOT to be cool but actually to stay warm.

Though no blockbuster movie will ever be made about it, clerks seem to routinely ring-me up with senior discounts and need not see I.D. as proof of my long-toothed Silverback status. Clearly I am something of a real Transformer now – bending, creaking and soon to be leaking new useful, flexible and stickier form of productivity. Yes, long life has been seemingly compressed into seconds as I’ll soon fall completely between the cracks, and cross that invisible line of re-birth from ready steady stud to swayback saddled n’ addled,  quartered-up colt ready for a warm Gorilla GLUE bottle.