Since I’ve gotten back from shooting the SbB Girls in the Virgin Islands, I’ve gained something approaching 10 lbs. in 10 days. The reason? I’m now eating like the girls did on the trip (25 meals per day). One problem with that: I don’t have a hummingbird metabolism.
(Forget the wings, I’m driving from MIA-to-LAX damn)
Now that I’m looking like Mike Golic post Nutri-System sloppy, I’ve remembered the first rule for losing weight: REMOVE ALL FOOD FROM YOUR RESIDENCE.
(Can I wing a stowaway tho?)
Anything that’s in my house will always get eaten. Yeah, that concept isn’t all that unique. Except when it’s all consumed within 24 hours of purchase.
I’ve decided to try to move to L.A. as soon as possible. Like, now. So I’ll probably be driving from Miami to California beginning as soon as this weekend. That of course, presents a massive problem when you’re trying to watch your figure.
(Sad: My vehicle fuel system yet to account for hot, italian beef injections)
Unlike most of my cross-country jaunts, I won’t be mapquesting all the Chick-Fil-A’s on the route. Nor Whataburgers and Taco Cabanas for the lovely, six-day drive through Texas. Instead, it’ll likely be one stop-off at Cracker Barrel per day.
Ever notice how Cracker Barrel makes you pay at the register? Wonder if that has anything to do with the mountains of crap they want you to buy in the lobby. Not to mention that postmeal 45-lb fudge purchase they try to rope you into while waiting for your credit card receipt.
(MUST RESIST (the shrimp, too))
So I’ll really have to discipline myself while patronizing that interstate-based epicurean delight. Even if it means occupying myself with one of those maddening, golf-tee table games while waiting to sign off on my regrettable chicken dumplings takeout purchase.
I am planning on bringing my handy cam on the road - and posting about my travels (tales from the nickel slots at Louisiana truck stops are always a sure hit).
(Well that certainly brightens up an anonymous interstate exit)
The last time I made the LAX-MIA drive, I had an internet-enabled laptop plugged into the cigarette lighter (extremely safe). I then connected the computer audio to the car stereo and voila - I was listening to Colin Cowherd spin his latest yarn about the Wegmanns’ salad bar while I sped through the backwoods of the Louisiana bayou (look, on the right, Glenn Dorsey’s shanty!).
Maybe the laptop thing isn’t such a good idea this time.