Get a hair cut, ya frea... oh wait, you're bald now.

I think we can all agree that Jimmy Buffett is a serious douchebag. How anyone with his meager talent can earn tens of millions of dollars and maintain a career spanning decades defies rationale explanation.

Oh, sure, I’ll admit that I listened to him in college. Everyone was doing it. I was a victim of peer-induced stupidity. Besides, I was 18 years old. What the hell where you doing when you were 18 that was so smart? Exactly.

Thankfully, my taste in music has matured. What hasn’t changed, however, is my deep, profound, and unshakable love of the Great American Cheeseburger.

Is there a dish more simple and delicious? I think not. Which is why, after not having had a thing to eat all day today, I whipped me and my family up some seriously ass-kicking, Angus-beef cheeseburgers, cooked on the barbie out on the deck.

Absolutely, perfectly medium rare. Covered in Vermont sharp cheddar (white). A frills-free white-bread bun. A generous portion of ketchup (Heinz).

Heaven.

Now, here’s why I’m stupid.

1. Don’t eat all day (“Just coffee for me, thanks!”).

2. Eat one giant meal (OK, I had salad, too, but still) comprised largely of protein and fat.

And I wonder why I’m pudgy. Alright, I don’t really “wonder”. I get it.

On the upside, I went grocery shopping today and spent about $300 on fruit, veggies, and lean protein (i.e., chicken),with some oatmeal and wheat germ thrown in for extra-smart eating.

So I’ve got that going for me. Which is nice.

Man, I hate breakfast. Not breakfast food, mind you – who can say no to bacon, waffles, bacon, pancakes, bacon, cinnamon rolls, bacon and bacon? No, me lovee the food; it’s the hour at which they’re typically served that chaps my ass.

I  mean, who wants to roll out of bed at 11:30 or so (like I did today) and start filling their face? Just give me some coffee, thank you, and I’ll be fine.

Except the facts seem to tell us that eating breakfast can actually help you lose weight and keep it off. Which sucks a pineapple juice popsicle, in my opinion. It seems breakfast gives your body food at just the right time, and helps keep your metabolism going, which is what I thought coffee was for, but apparently not.

So one of the hardest things by far will be eating breakfast now on a regular basis. Of course, if I could find an easier way to actually consume the breakfast…

Can I get an amen?

So my wife gets home from her first day at her new job and promptly declares: “I need a drink.”

And I’m all, like, damn! This woman, who hardly drinks anymore, comes home from her new job, on, like, my first full day of trying to cut weight, for Christ’s sake, and says she needs a drink.

I mean, can’t she drink on the job like the rest of us?

Oh, wait. She’s not a scumbag advertising creative. My bad. But I admit, I just about dropped the tub of Crisco and jumped off the couch to race off to the liquor store and get a little vino. But I didn’t.

Because the alcohol – which I love, by the way – is chock full of those pesky calories. And that’s gonna be an issue for the next year. Cutting back on the boozey booze.

Of course, I’m not a complete prick. After thinking about going to the liquor store and getting some booze and bringing it home and drinking it and getting a buzz going and then playing some video games and then having another drink or four, I managed to ask my wife, “Tough first day on the job, hunny?”

Ends up it wasn’t. The wife’s got a touch of the sciatica in the hip region, and she thought a little booze would take the edge off.

Amen to that.

Fatty/Major Winner John Daly

I went to the driving range this afternoon. You see, I’m a freelance writer, so if I’m not on a job or trying to find one, I can go to the golf course on a Monday afternoon and not feel terribly guilty about it.

Now, golf isn’t one of those sports that requires its participants to be in top physical condition. This is not a game of speed, or strength, or endurance. In fact, it’s somewhat fascinating to watch a fat man take a swipe at a golf ball, and even more fascinating when that fat man is really, really good.

Like our friend John Daly. He’s a real tubby, but man, can he smack ol’ whitey. He’s got a shoulder turn that’s flat-out amazing.

Me? I am no John Daly. And not just because I don’t drink Crown Royale right out of the bottle. But I do love the golf. Problem is, when you’re not in decent shape, golf isn’t much fun. So after hitting about 40 balls on the driving range in 85 degree heat, I was feeling it. Which is pretty fucking weak.

In fact, thanks to being fat and out of shape, I decided to bag on playing, and I went home. All the more reason to get my ass in shape and cut the weight.

Done with being too damn fat. I ain’t gettin’ any younger, and the fact of the matter is, the longer I stay fat, the sooner I’ll die. (Probably. Could be the clichéd bus that nails me as I cross the street. But I’m pretty good at looking both ways first, so I’ll bet on the quarter pounder with cheese over the MTA any time.)

Why now? Glad you asked. It’s not really my age. I turn 40 later this year, which in the scheme of things, just isn’t that old, no matter what any fucktard in their 20s tells you.

No. Basically, I’m unhappy. I don’t like being fat. It flat-out doesn’t feel good. And I ought to know: I’ve been un-fat before, plenty of times. I’ve run three marathons. I was a varsity wrestler in high school. And while I’ve never been considered a jock – I’m way too nerdy to be in that club – I’ve always been (to greater or lesser degrees) athletic. Or at least I’d like to think so.

So I’ve been thin before. And in great shape. And when one is slender and fit, well… it feels pretty good.

Which begs the question: what the hell happened?

That’s a topic for another post.

For the time being, let’s just say I’ve had enough, and now… it’s time to have less.

Less of me.

So if I’m gonna do this, I want it to stick. And I don’t want to kill myself trying to cut weight. Hence, I’ve decided that over the course of the next year, I will lose 4 pounds a month.

12 months times 4 pounds equals 48 pounds of weight loss. This morning, I weighed in at a hefty 248 pounds. I’m 6 feet tall. Which means that, scientifically speaking, I’m obese.

Ouch. Not good. So starting today, I will do what I need to do to lose the weight, get in decent shape, and make it stick. But no one tries to lose 48 pounds. It’s just a weird number. So I’m gonna lose 50 pounds to break the 200-pound threshold.

This time, I want it to stick. In a good way.