larry awesome: diet champion of america
4 August 2006
Just as Moses fasted for 40 days as he hung out with the Lord recording the Ten Commandments and Jesus fasted for 40 days in the desert whilst being tempted by the Devil, I now join the company of these men, having committed myself to a cause just as worthy to all of humankind. Today is Day 40 of my diet and I have lost a total of 20.5 pounds, surpassing by a third my original goal of losing 20 pounds in 60 days.
(I actually first hit 20 pounds lost on the 38th Day, but 40 is much more theatrical. So just fucking play along.)
In sooth, I never thought this diet would actually work, so I don’t really have anything prepared to say. I don’t want to gloat, because I’m afraid that if I keep talking about all the weight I’m losing I will lose the "fatty" portion of my readership (just as I have lost the gay portion after yesterday’s post). Then I will only be left with the college students (of which there are not many), the stoners (lots) and the criminals (tons). However, all three of these groups don’t buy books and I have a career to think about ("Hitting Shelves in April 2007, The Long-Awaited, Much-Anticipated Memoirs of Jason Mulgrew – Everything Is Wrong With Me: An American Childhood Gone Wrong! Free Handjob From the Author With the First 5000 Books Sold (Limit Three Per Customer)! Start Saving Your Change Now!").
But yet I would be remiss if I didn’t say how I did this or the effects it has had on me. Also, I’ve been kinda hard up for material this week, so if you want a post today, this is what you’re going to have to read. At least it’ll probably be pretty long.
To be honest, the whole diet thing has been very easy and has worked because of five things:
1) My love of music
2) My obsession with numbers
3) My significant anger issues
4) My taste for booze and intoxication
5) My stubbornness
My love of music
First and foremost, none of this would have been possible if I didn’t have an iPod and the most excellent taste in music of anyone I know. If you’ve read even a little bit of this website, you know that I’m obsessed with music; I listen to it when I wake up, listen to it all day at work, listen to it while falling asleep, listen to it when I shower, masturbate, clean – all the fucking time (and no, I’m joking about the masturbate thing – I dare you to masturbate to a Sigur Ros song while jerking and tell me your orgasm is not heightened).
So when I joined the gym and started this diet, half of the "adventure" was the working out itself, but the other half was creating the greatest work-out mix in the history of mankind. I had had two very old workout mixes from my old gym days almost two years ago ("Hype" for cardio work and "Punch Your Goddamn Balls" for weightlifting) but they had grown stale.
My first order of business was creating a "Balls Out Workout" mix, combining the best elements of the previous two, as well as a number of new songs. For hours I poured over the 7000 songs in my iTunes, looking for a select few for the playlist. And since we’re not doing a Six Songs this week and because many people have asked, here’s a sampling of songs from the "Balls Out Workout" mix (10 of the 90 total on the list):
- "Barracuda" Heart
- "Feather Boa" Marah
- "Golddigger" Kanye West
- "Kick in the Door" Notorious B.I.G.
- "Marry Me" Drive-By Truckers
- "Red Morning Light" Kings of Leon
- "Spread Your Love" Black Rebel Motorcycle Club
- "Take the Fifth" Spoon
- "The Blues Are Still Blue" Belle & Sebastian
- "The Girl I Love" Led Zeppelin
It’s a nice mix, with rock and rap intermingled. Many of the other songs I’ve already mentioned on here (some of those listed I’ve mentioned before) or are well-known songs that one would guess would be on this sort of mix, but those are ten random ones that I especially rock out to.
Once I had the music all figured out, I was halfway there.
(Well, not really. But in spirit at least.)
My obsession with numbers
I’m sort of a little crazy when it comes to numbers. For example, I told a girl I met recently that I’m fascinated by her birthday: November 21 (11/21). This is because, as I told her, it "resolves" itself. For example, 1+1=2-1=1. Then if you take that 1 and reintroduce it to dates, it’s 1+1+1=3, 3-2=1, 1-1=0. See? It resolves itself. But sadly, just as you stopped reading after "For example," she too stopped listening and we did not spend the night together. Yet.
Numbers are also why I am excellent at fantasy sports (save for one baseball league this year – thank you Vlad, Jake Peavy, "King" Felix, Cliff Floyd, Aubrey Huff, Zach Duke, JD Drew, and a litany of other losers). I know Chase Utley’s average, on-base percentage, and slugging percentage by heart and I can tell you how many total bases Carlos Beltran has in the last month. Fantasy baseball has more to do with manipulating and projecting data than sports.
I took this approach to dieting. My diet plan was simple: it’s all about calories. Forget carbs, trans fats, South Beach, Atkin’s – all that. Dieting can be deconstructed into one simple condition: If you burn off more calories than you consume, you will lose weight. That’s it.
Over the course of this diet I’ve become so consumed with counting calories that I’m now almost autistic. And the weird thing is, I kind of love it. I think that maybe I love numbers, especially in the case of the diet, because I love control. I like knowing that by the end of the day I have consumed 1000 calories and burned off 800 at the gym. According to this website, I burn about 3000 calories a day just by being myself. That’s a net calorie loss of 2800 calories a day. That number is so big it gives me a boner.
…
Ok, I’m getting a little excited here. Let’s just talk about something else before I start masturbating here at my desk.
…
Actually, no – one last thing because I think it might be useful to others.
I drink at least 2.5 liters of water and poop about twice per day. All told, I go to the bathroom 7 to 9 times a day.
Three weeks ago I came up with an idea. Instead of using the bathroom on my floor, every time I had to pee or poop I’d use the bathroom three floors above me or three floors below, taking the stairs back and forth. In this way, I’d be climbing stairs when I didn’t have to, and by doing it in small intervals, I wouldn’t feel too stressed or sweaty but it would accumulate into something larger by the end of the day.
So I started doing it and keeping track of how many times I went to the can, multiplying the number of trips by the floors walked to get a final number. On my first day, I went 8 times, walking up (or down and back) three flights of stairs each day. So by the end of that day, I’d climbed the equivalent of 24 story building. Not something I’d do in a normal day.
Two weeks ago, I went from three flights to four. This week, it’s up to five. Yesterday, I went to the bathroom nine times, meaning I walked up 45 flights of stairs in a day. Not a bad way to get secret, easy exercise in. However, I don’t think I’ll increase it to six floors next week, because I’m pushing it at five; I’d really rather not shit or piss myself at work, which has come dangerously close to happening.
My significant anger issues
One thing that I hadn’t realized about the gym is that it’s totally ok to go there and be a) sweaty and b) really, really pissed off. The sweat is great for me, since by the time I get to the gym I look like I’ve been swimming with my shirt on again. But the anger is even better.
I’m learning that I may have some anger issues. I know, I know – by day and on here, I’m mostly a mild-mannered chubby kid who jokes about his little penis. But at the gym, I become a fucking maniac.
I’ve never before in my life done anything physically taxing for an extended period of time. While I played Little League growing up, that was more about drinking soda and talking about masturbating than exercise. So for the first time in my life, I’m pushing my body. The result is that all this testosterone is suddenly appearing. And at the gym, I become a spitting, cursing, crazy person, running on the treadmill (yes, actually running), sweating pouring down my face, screaming at myself, "You pussy! C’mon fat chops – let’s get a move on! You think the girl on the treadmill next to you would ever fuck a guy with titties like yours! Faster! Run like it’ll make your dick bigger, cockass! ARRRGGHH!"
After the gym, I return to my normal mild-mannered self. I heat up my Lean Cuisine dinner and watch the BBC World News, which I tivo every night for this reason. Then I’ll have a glass of wine or a Manhattan and either read (I’ve read like six books in the past six or seven weeks – thanks again for all the recommendations) or sit at the computer to type. Then a quick shower and a Xanax and I’m under the covers, strangling my penis, an old pair of boxers in my left hand to receive my "not this time" children. Just a simple man. Content. Happy. But sometimes crazy.
My taste for booze and intoxication
Probably what I’ve written most about the diet is it’s most unintended consequence: I have been getting seriously fucked up lately. I don’t need to get too into this because you’ve already heard about it, but when you eat little and work out a lot, you tolerance decreases dramatically. This is like freshman (well, sophomore for me) year of college drunk. And sure, maybe it has something to do with me drinking whiskey instead of beer before I go out nowadays, but the fact is that these last few week’s have been awesome, thanks mostly to my diet and the booze.
My stubbornness
My worst and best quality is that I am astonishingly stubborn. It either makes me a horrible person or a driven man. I can do anything you tell me I can’t do. I’m a world beater. I just don’t lose. I was on food stamps as a kid, got scholarships to every school I attended, and last year walked out of a meeting in which I made more money in 45 minutes than both of my parents make in a year combined (you know, if I ever actually see that money).
I know I sound like a total dick with a huge ego, but you have to remember – Larry Awesome does NOT fuck around (and he is a total dick with a huge ego). So when I announced this diet to my friends, I was almost glad that it was greeted with universal skepticism, even by my most sensitive and sincere friends. Larry Awesome then went into overdrive mode and has pretty much taken over the show, especially since after I was finished whining about my birthday. It’s been all Larry, all the time. And it scares me a little.
But Larry gets results. The doubt has been a prime motivator throughout this process and will continue to be. It’s a good thing my friends are unencouraging assholes.
[And don't worry, I'm going to share the wealth. Not with you guys, of course, but I already know exactly what I'm getting my mom and dad once that money comes through. For my dad, it's an all-expenses paid trip to Richmond, Virginia to the Phillip Morris factory, so he can actually see his beloved Reds being made. For my mom, I'm going to hire an actress to impersonate her. Then, this actress will go into her second job when she's scheduled to work - I will keep her out by distracting her - and the actress will fuck everything up and get "her" fired. This is the only way I think I can stop my mom from working 70 hours a week.]
**********
Since I committed to 60 days, I will continue to 60 days. I hope that by the end I’ll have lost between 25 and 30 pounds, which is reasonable (although this weekend will be tough because I have dinners on Saturday and Sunday nights, the Saturday one being a FREE dinner at a fancy steak place which will be followed by FREE drinks, so I may gain the whole 20 back just in that night).
But there is one thing I have not yet received: compliments or recognition. It’s not that I’m seeking them out and I’m not fishing for them here (from friends who read the site), but I’m being honest when I say that I really can’t tell too much of difference when I look at myself. I’m still fat and hairy. My clothes are a little looser, but I’m still a monstrosity when I’m naked. I feel better and have more energy, but I still can’t masturbate completely nude, as my body turns me off. So while numerically I’m making progress, it hasn’t made an effect on my appearance. No one has ever said, "Dude, you look different." It’s been more like me saying, "Dude, I’ve lost 16 pounds" and a friend saying, "Yeah, well, you’re still fat." And they’re right.
The good news is that I really don’t care. The ultimate goal of this diet was to get in better shape, which, presumably, would lead to more opportunities for carousal with the opposite sex. And while these opportunities have yet to present themselves, I am able to sustain the vigor for my new lifestyle because of the shrinking number on the scale and such encouraging signs as actually being able to run on the treadmill now (when when I had started the diet, the most exercise I could do was a slow, up-hill walk).
So we (Larry and I, mostly Larry) will continue onward and upward with the diet. I won’t be charting progress as much anymore, since I’ve hit my goal and I’m sure only about 1/3 of the people who started reading this post are still reading it. But hey, I warned you right away. And I was right – at least it’s long. So if you’re reading, at least you’ve killed ten minutes, right?
But now we’re done. Since it’s Friday and I don’t diet on Fridays, I have to get to the cafeteria before they run out of Sloppy Joe’s. Have a good weekend.
(I actually first hit 20 pounds lost on the 38th Day, but 40 is much more theatrical. So just fucking play along.)
In sooth, I never thought this diet would actually work, so I don’t really have anything prepared to say. I don’t want to gloat, because I’m afraid that if I keep talking about all the weight I’m losing I will lose the "fatty" portion of my readership (just as I have lost the gay portion after yesterday’s post). Then I will only be left with the college students (of which there are not many), the stoners (lots) and the criminals (tons). However, all three of these groups don’t buy books and I have a career to think about ("Hitting Shelves in April 2007, The Long-Awaited, Much-Anticipated Memoirs of Jason Mulgrew – Everything Is Wrong With Me: An American Childhood Gone Wrong! Free Handjob From the Author With the First 5000 Books Sold (Limit Three Per Customer)! Start Saving Your Change Now!").
But yet I would be remiss if I didn’t say how I did this or the effects it has had on me. Also, I’ve been kinda hard up for material this week, so if you want a post today, this is what you’re going to have to read. At least it’ll probably be pretty long.
To be honest, the whole diet thing has been very easy and has worked because of five things:
1) My love of music
2) My obsession with numbers
3) My significant anger issues
4) My taste for booze and intoxication
5) My stubbornness
My love of music
First and foremost, none of this would have been possible if I didn’t have an iPod and the most excellent taste in music of anyone I know. If you’ve read even a little bit of this website, you know that I’m obsessed with music; I listen to it when I wake up, listen to it all day at work, listen to it while falling asleep, listen to it when I shower, masturbate, clean – all the fucking time (and no, I’m joking about the masturbate thing – I dare you to masturbate to a Sigur Ros song while jerking and tell me your orgasm is not heightened).
So when I joined the gym and started this diet, half of the "adventure" was the working out itself, but the other half was creating the greatest work-out mix in the history of mankind. I had had two very old workout mixes from my old gym days almost two years ago ("Hype" for cardio work and "Punch Your Goddamn Balls" for weightlifting) but they had grown stale.
My first order of business was creating a "Balls Out Workout" mix, combining the best elements of the previous two, as well as a number of new songs. For hours I poured over the 7000 songs in my iTunes, looking for a select few for the playlist. And since we’re not doing a Six Songs this week and because many people have asked, here’s a sampling of songs from the "Balls Out Workout" mix (10 of the 90 total on the list):
- "Barracuda" Heart
- "Feather Boa" Marah
- "Golddigger" Kanye West
- "Kick in the Door" Notorious B.I.G.
- "Marry Me" Drive-By Truckers
- "Red Morning Light" Kings of Leon
- "Spread Your Love" Black Rebel Motorcycle Club
- "Take the Fifth" Spoon
- "The Blues Are Still Blue" Belle & Sebastian
- "The Girl I Love" Led Zeppelin
It’s a nice mix, with rock and rap intermingled. Many of the other songs I’ve already mentioned on here (some of those listed I’ve mentioned before) or are well-known songs that one would guess would be on this sort of mix, but those are ten random ones that I especially rock out to.
Once I had the music all figured out, I was halfway there.
(Well, not really. But in spirit at least.)
My obsession with numbers
I’m sort of a little crazy when it comes to numbers. For example, I told a girl I met recently that I’m fascinated by her birthday: November 21 (11/21). This is because, as I told her, it "resolves" itself. For example, 1+1=2-1=1. Then if you take that 1 and reintroduce it to dates, it’s 1+1+1=3, 3-2=1, 1-1=0. See? It resolves itself. But sadly, just as you stopped reading after "For example," she too stopped listening and we did not spend the night together. Yet.
Numbers are also why I am excellent at fantasy sports (save for one baseball league this year – thank you Vlad, Jake Peavy, "King" Felix, Cliff Floyd, Aubrey Huff, Zach Duke, JD Drew, and a litany of other losers). I know Chase Utley’s average, on-base percentage, and slugging percentage by heart and I can tell you how many total bases Carlos Beltran has in the last month. Fantasy baseball has more to do with manipulating and projecting data than sports.
I took this approach to dieting. My diet plan was simple: it’s all about calories. Forget carbs, trans fats, South Beach, Atkin’s – all that. Dieting can be deconstructed into one simple condition: If you burn off more calories than you consume, you will lose weight. That’s it.
Over the course of this diet I’ve become so consumed with counting calories that I’m now almost autistic. And the weird thing is, I kind of love it. I think that maybe I love numbers, especially in the case of the diet, because I love control. I like knowing that by the end of the day I have consumed 1000 calories and burned off 800 at the gym. According to this website, I burn about 3000 calories a day just by being myself. That’s a net calorie loss of 2800 calories a day. That number is so big it gives me a boner.
…
Ok, I’m getting a little excited here. Let’s just talk about something else before I start masturbating here at my desk.
…
Actually, no – one last thing because I think it might be useful to others.
I drink at least 2.5 liters of water and poop about twice per day. All told, I go to the bathroom 7 to 9 times a day.
Three weeks ago I came up with an idea. Instead of using the bathroom on my floor, every time I had to pee or poop I’d use the bathroom three floors above me or three floors below, taking the stairs back and forth. In this way, I’d be climbing stairs when I didn’t have to, and by doing it in small intervals, I wouldn’t feel too stressed or sweaty but it would accumulate into something larger by the end of the day.
So I started doing it and keeping track of how many times I went to the can, multiplying the number of trips by the floors walked to get a final number. On my first day, I went 8 times, walking up (or down and back) three flights of stairs each day. So by the end of that day, I’d climbed the equivalent of 24 story building. Not something I’d do in a normal day.
Two weeks ago, I went from three flights to four. This week, it’s up to five. Yesterday, I went to the bathroom nine times, meaning I walked up 45 flights of stairs in a day. Not a bad way to get secret, easy exercise in. However, I don’t think I’ll increase it to six floors next week, because I’m pushing it at five; I’d really rather not shit or piss myself at work, which has come dangerously close to happening.
My significant anger issues
One thing that I hadn’t realized about the gym is that it’s totally ok to go there and be a) sweaty and b) really, really pissed off. The sweat is great for me, since by the time I get to the gym I look like I’ve been swimming with my shirt on again. But the anger is even better.
I’m learning that I may have some anger issues. I know, I know – by day and on here, I’m mostly a mild-mannered chubby kid who jokes about his little penis. But at the gym, I become a fucking maniac.
I’ve never before in my life done anything physically taxing for an extended period of time. While I played Little League growing up, that was more about drinking soda and talking about masturbating than exercise. So for the first time in my life, I’m pushing my body. The result is that all this testosterone is suddenly appearing. And at the gym, I become a spitting, cursing, crazy person, running on the treadmill (yes, actually running), sweating pouring down my face, screaming at myself, "You pussy! C’mon fat chops – let’s get a move on! You think the girl on the treadmill next to you would ever fuck a guy with titties like yours! Faster! Run like it’ll make your dick bigger, cockass! ARRRGGHH!"
After the gym, I return to my normal mild-mannered self. I heat up my Lean Cuisine dinner and watch the BBC World News, which I tivo every night for this reason. Then I’ll have a glass of wine or a Manhattan and either read (I’ve read like six books in the past six or seven weeks – thanks again for all the recommendations) or sit at the computer to type. Then a quick shower and a Xanax and I’m under the covers, strangling my penis, an old pair of boxers in my left hand to receive my "not this time" children. Just a simple man. Content. Happy. But sometimes crazy.
My taste for booze and intoxication
Probably what I’ve written most about the diet is it’s most unintended consequence: I have been getting seriously fucked up lately. I don’t need to get too into this because you’ve already heard about it, but when you eat little and work out a lot, you tolerance decreases dramatically. This is like freshman (well, sophomore for me) year of college drunk. And sure, maybe it has something to do with me drinking whiskey instead of beer before I go out nowadays, but the fact is that these last few week’s have been awesome, thanks mostly to my diet and the booze.
My stubbornness
My worst and best quality is that I am astonishingly stubborn. It either makes me a horrible person or a driven man. I can do anything you tell me I can’t do. I’m a world beater. I just don’t lose. I was on food stamps as a kid, got scholarships to every school I attended, and last year walked out of a meeting in which I made more money in 45 minutes than both of my parents make in a year combined (you know, if I ever actually see that money).
I know I sound like a total dick with a huge ego, but you have to remember – Larry Awesome does NOT fuck around (and he is a total dick with a huge ego). So when I announced this diet to my friends, I was almost glad that it was greeted with universal skepticism, even by my most sensitive and sincere friends. Larry Awesome then went into overdrive mode and has pretty much taken over the show, especially since after I was finished whining about my birthday. It’s been all Larry, all the time. And it scares me a little.
But Larry gets results. The doubt has been a prime motivator throughout this process and will continue to be. It’s a good thing my friends are unencouraging assholes.
[And don't worry, I'm going to share the wealth. Not with you guys, of course, but I already know exactly what I'm getting my mom and dad once that money comes through. For my dad, it's an all-expenses paid trip to Richmond, Virginia to the Phillip Morris factory, so he can actually see his beloved Reds being made. For my mom, I'm going to hire an actress to impersonate her. Then, this actress will go into her second job when she's scheduled to work - I will keep her out by distracting her - and the actress will fuck everything up and get "her" fired. This is the only way I think I can stop my mom from working 70 hours a week.]
**********
Since I committed to 60 days, I will continue to 60 days. I hope that by the end I’ll have lost between 25 and 30 pounds, which is reasonable (although this weekend will be tough because I have dinners on Saturday and Sunday nights, the Saturday one being a FREE dinner at a fancy steak place which will be followed by FREE drinks, so I may gain the whole 20 back just in that night).
But there is one thing I have not yet received: compliments or recognition. It’s not that I’m seeking them out and I’m not fishing for them here (from friends who read the site), but I’m being honest when I say that I really can’t tell too much of difference when I look at myself. I’m still fat and hairy. My clothes are a little looser, but I’m still a monstrosity when I’m naked. I feel better and have more energy, but I still can’t masturbate completely nude, as my body turns me off. So while numerically I’m making progress, it hasn’t made an effect on my appearance. No one has ever said, "Dude, you look different." It’s been more like me saying, "Dude, I’ve lost 16 pounds" and a friend saying, "Yeah, well, you’re still fat." And they’re right.
The good news is that I really don’t care. The ultimate goal of this diet was to get in better shape, which, presumably, would lead to more opportunities for carousal with the opposite sex. And while these opportunities have yet to present themselves, I am able to sustain the vigor for my new lifestyle because of the shrinking number on the scale and such encouraging signs as actually being able to run on the treadmill now (when when I had started the diet, the most exercise I could do was a slow, up-hill walk).
So we (Larry and I, mostly Larry) will continue onward and upward with the diet. I won’t be charting progress as much anymore, since I’ve hit my goal and I’m sure only about 1/3 of the people who started reading this post are still reading it. But hey, I warned you right away. And I was right – at least it’s long. So if you’re reading, at least you’ve killed ten minutes, right?
But now we’re done. Since it’s Friday and I don’t diet on Fridays, I have to get to the cafeteria before they run out of Sloppy Joe’s. Have a good weekend.
