It’s been a trying two weeks in the NYC area, with many people feeling tragic effects from Hurricane Sandy. Personally, my family’s experience was only that of inconvenience, and we were thankfully spared any tragedy. I feel it would be presumptuous of me to recommend that you be generous with your time and donations, as I’m sure many of you are already contributing, and you don’t need some clown on the internet to tell you how to be a good person.
That being said, things are slowly returning to normal, and as a sign of this, I will now report on the state of my bodily systems in nauseating detail.
Anyone who know me knows that I am prone to sharing the goings-on within my "food conversion and waste disposal system" in a semi-excruciating manner, and this entry in my log shall be no different. Simply put, my stomach is my weakness. I am prone to acid reflux-ivity, and when left untreated, the acid in my tummy wreaks havoc. When I am in an acid-y state, and eat foods on my no-fly list, my stomach shuts down all systems, spasms my neck tunnel shut, and tosses every thing I put down my gullet straight back up to where it came from. And when I say everything—I mean everything—I cannot drink water or even manage to swallow saliva without it being forcefully sent back to its room, so to speak. Of course, this all makes for a pleasant dining experience for those in my company, as I gurgle, spit and heave partially digested or even non-digested pieces of dinner back from the depths of my gut dungeon.
Of course, this situation is treatable. Through trial and error and careful observation, I have deduced that I am sensitive to red meat, potatoes, beer, sausage and coffee. And through being a person for nearly 44 years I have discovered that I adore red meat, potatoes, beer, sausage and coffee. This presents a conundrum. Eat what I enjoy and behave likes a baby bird with its mouth stuck in reverse, or eat sensibly and maintain my cover as a normal person. Most times I am able to treat my stomach nastiness, but other times I succumb to sausage without proper medical preparation. It looks as if I will be battling sausage for the rest of my days, and if I perish and there are no suspects, I will tell you now, that like a game of Clue, you can proclaim that, "The stomach did it, with a sausage, in the bathroom." and solve the mystery of my passing in about 30 seconds.
I have the dainty ankles of an Austrian ballerina, this fact has nothing to do with how my legs are currently performing, I just enjoy stating this fact. In times of low-sausage intake, I can take my thumb and middle finger, wrap them around my ankle and have the tips of those digits meet. This serves as a quick and easy "chubbiness check" for myself when I am sitting in my easy chair and watching the many terrifically masculine offerings that the Bravo network produces.
As we move up my legs, my calves are adequate (most calves are, calves are mostly just enablers for the knees), but my knees are beginning to show signs of wear. My right knees trends towards slight soreness, and I treat this slight aching with neglect and splashes of icy water. This therapy seems to be doing the trick, but careful monitoring of the situation will be needed to see if my knee goes "stomach" on me.
Last years, I modified my seat position and pedaling style to favor a more powerful style of riding, and I must admit that I think it has been working for me, but a by-product of this mightiness is the state of my thighs. When I stand with my feet at shoulder’s width, my inner thighs now touch. All inherent sexiness of that previous sentence aside, this means that my thighs have either grown due to a surge in mightiness or more likely, sausage settles in the legs.
When called upon, I can belt out a Cher song at high volume (I only know a few of the words to "Half Breed", but can fake my way though most of it). That should be all I need to say about the capacity of my lungs.
I ride bikes, next question.
When you’ve made a concerted effort to never let a day go by without having the white cassette tape version of "Eruption" by Van Halen play completely through your mental tape deck, a mostly sausage-based assessment of your body is what happens.
I enjoyed quite a few rides the past two weeks, but I am too lazy to write about them (I will get to you Roman, I promise), instead here’s a link to a ride on the Saddle River Bike Path where I stopped and walked over this fallen tree. I’m not sure but I think I just did cross.