Helping You Get the Most Out of Your Misery






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Thursday, July 05, 2007


Co-Dependence Day

Any holiday where I'm here and my wife is in another town automatically kind of blows. I don't want to fall into my usual wife-less whining; suffice it to say that I always miss her to distraction and never have as much fun without her.

That said, my Independence Day this year wasn't as bad as it might have been. I actually managed to motivate myself into going for a run yesterday morning, which left me pretty goddamned impressed with myself. I normally lack the willpower to get off the couch when my wife's gone, but I somehow made it happen yesterday.

Then there was ESPN's coverage of the Nathan's Famous Hot Dog Eating contest from Coney. I briefly entertained the notion of attending this event in person. Glad I was too lazy to go, too, because it looked to be a sea of sweaty humanity over there.

Anyway, I'm not normally one to watch anything where men are jamming meat tubes in their faces, but this one was truly a contest for the ages. Joey Chestnut managed to shove sixty-six hot dogs down his throat. Sixty-six hot dogs, people. Whatever your viewpoint on the relative merits of competitive hot dog eating, that's impressive. I feel like a foul, disgusting pig when I eat three of them.

And speaking of disgusting, I couldn't get enough slow motion replays of Takeru Kobayashi's last minute "reversal". Knowing that he would lose credit for any frankfurters he puked up, he worked really, really hard to jam the chunks-n-liquid back down his gullet. Yum.

I should point out that I was not sufficiently disgusted by this sight to keep me from enjoying a plateful of soy dogs later in the day.

The day was also kept from completely sucking by the fact that I got to see New Pornographers. Yeah, it rained. Yeah, my buddy Deni and I spent the first half hour or so of the concert sitting at the rear of the crowd, unable to see the stage and feeling too frail and elderly to push our way to the front. And, yeah, the band inexplicably failed to perform "Letter From an Occupant", the song that made me a slathering fan in the first place. But it kicked ass anyway. Actually, most of the band is Canadian, so they didn't so much kick ass as they politely placed their boot on the ass.

I won't mention the horrifying Cleveland Indians telecast that ended my day. Dammit.

Anyway, Happy Birthday, America. I didn't get you anything, but I did send an e-card.