HBO is rerunning “Rome” at 8 p.m., which is frequently my blogging hour, so I sometimes have it on in the background. I’d forgotten how much I liked it when it first aired, what? Ten years ago? Awakening the day of Caesar’s funeral, Mark Antony says, “I’m not getting out of this bed until I’ve fucked someone.” His consort, Atia, says fine, and orders a slave to “fetch that German slut from the kitchen.”
I think that’s going to be today’s catch phrase: Fetch that German slut from the kitchen.
So fetch her! Here’s a story I found intriguing, from Tommy Tomlinson, an ESPN sportswriter who happens to be married to an ex-colleague of mine. He’s a fat guy, and he’s writing about another fat guy, and do so with the insight of one who not only has been there, but is still there:
He is trying to get past the chomp-chomp-chomp phase. He orders a lot of salads. He’s cut back on the steaks in favor of grilled chicken and sushi. The drink he guzzles is Diet Coke (mostly from Steak ‘n Shake, because its cups keep it coldest). But he won’t lie. He loves Jimmy John’s. And sometimes, on the way home, that $5 Little Caesars pizza calls his name.
He has trouble sleeping, and his snoring just about cracks the drywall. Stairs are starting to give him a problem, especially with his leg still healing. We see our futures, and they’re not long ones. I’m 50, and I might feel it more deeply than he does. Nobody who’s 65 looks like we do.
Most people have something in their lives that they can’t beat back with willpower alone. But when you’re fat, your problem is obvious to the world. And here’s one difference between having a problem with food and having one with cigarettes or booze or drugs: You can’t quit cold turkey. You have to eat something.
Tamara remembers times when she and Jared did really well — they ate right, exercised, even grew a little garden together. Then she’d clean the house one day and find a Little Debbie wrapper under the couch.
Changing one’s eating habits, even if they’re relatively normal, is incredibly difficult. It’s taken me nearly two years to wean myself off just the insane amounts of sugar I used to eat. And I still eat too much. So I have a lot of sympathy here.
Finally, I’m going to pimp my gentrification package one more day, in case you missed it yesterday: Main, map, sidebar. Plus guest columns one and two. You journos know the multiple-entry-points thing, right?
And now we’ve gotten to the end of the week. Enjoy your weekend. I hope that German slut from the kitchen is everything you wanted.