Tall chick: I wish I could find a nice, tall guy.
Friend #1: My brother is 6′5″.
Tall chick: Is he cute?
Friend: Well…
Friend #2: He looks like a Mexican pedophile.
Tall chick: 6′5″, eh? I’ll think about it.
DUDE. This barn they speak of - River Ridge on California Road in Eastchester - is literally right next to the barn I used to ride at growing up, spent every waking hour outside of school at. It used to be my playground/childhood dream (cue image of Rosie O’Donnel in a mantronly baseball uniform). Anyway, it is now infested with skeezy child nappers. That is all.
I actually think he might have been our old local ice cream truck guy?
(Worst week ever, thanks to you best week ever!)
Since crashing the popserious party a few months back, I have observed that a lot of you guys are big animal lovers. I don’t really like animals that much, but I don’t even really like most people, so it’s nothing personal. But once in a while I get a little misty when I see something like this. I am sure you have seen this somewhere already, since I saw it on CBS news late last night. However, I thought you would appreciate this, since you all seem to have a soft spot for creatures big and small. This is the story of a lion who was released into the wild after being cared for as a cub by these two dudes and was reunited with them a year after they let him free. The Whitney Houston song doesn’t make this any easier, trust me.
You know, I never really paid attention in biology, but one thing I loved were those gene charts—punnet squares, if I remember correctly (See, Mom and Dad? High school paid off!)—that you could use to determine what genes would whup what other genes’ asses in a cross-breeding situation. That is, I believe, the official definition.
Anyway, what punnet squares teach us (again, I’m pretty sure this is SUPER scientific) is that some genetic combos are against Nature’s plan. Like, you can’t cross a human with a goat, or a seal with a chicken. They just don’t fit. And it’s a good thing they don’t, because mistakes can be made. Observe:
Part sandal, part boot. I know it’s frightening, but there must have been a reason for this monster to have been created. Like, maybe Jeffrey Campbell (the designer) lives in a climate in which the first inch and a half off the ground is a balmy 72 degrees, but above the ankle it is a cold, cold winter. Or maybe he has terrible cankles, but still wants to feel the sun on his toes. I don’t know. All I do know is that this shoe was not in God’s plan.
I’m not a doctor. If you read this blog, you know that already. Since this is a post about something you should probably be consulting your doctor for, don’t listen to me unless you feel so inclined. I did, however, spend a few years doing modeling, and with summer here I know most people (myself included) want to be a wee bit less flabby in the guttular/buttular region. So i’m thinking back to those days and some of the things I did in order to stay thin. In my time as a model, while I didn’t quite get to the whole ‘rexic phase in the way that some do, I admittedly did cut out any and all snickers bars and ate a lot more salads than my stomach would like in order to not exceed the 110-lb mark that those casting agents frowned upon.
While there are the many models out there who have a steady diet of coke and cigarettes, there are just as many who are perfectly healthy, lanky pre-pubescent teens, and there’s even a sprinkling of hermaphrodites (think about it: high cheekbones, broad shoulders, tall, small hips, small boobs…). But for most models who have the curse of being built like… women, it is a constant struggle.
Anyway, here were some of the tips I learned back in the day:
- The bookers at Elite, my old agency, told their models to never “go on diets”. This is because when girls (who aren’t crazy anorexics) don’t eat, they get hungry, when they are hungry, eventually they eat, and when they do eat, they gorge themselves and if anything, gain weight. (Besides that, they could just drop you if you get too fat and sign the next attractive 13-year-old that walks by.) So, they promoted exercise instead…
- I hate running, sit ups, basically anything that has to do with gym class. That’s why my recommendation is pretending that every form of transportation you rely on - trains, elevators, taxis - are down. You are back in the 1800’s and don’t have a horse and buggy, so it’s time to get boots for walkin’. I used to walk from Williansburg to Harlem and back when I had the time. It’s not that hard on your system and doesn’t really feel like exercise.
- Ensure. Yes, the old people drink (be sure not to get the weight gainer type). That stuff is packed with nutrients and is good for you and will keep the gut tucked up under you. You can replace the occasional meal with it.
- Drink a lot of water. Most people, myself included, confuse hunger and thirst on a pretty regular basis. If you are hungry, try a glass of water first. If that doesn’t do the trick, then eat.
- Also good, watery foods. Snacking on watermelon and other juicy foods make you feel full faster.
- Graze. Eating a bunch of smaller snacks throughout the day is much better for you than three larger meals. It is easy for your body to metabolize and it shrinks your stomach so you feel full faster when you do eat larger meals. It is, however, harder to keep track of getting the right amount of nutrition so watch what you eat.
- Go vegan for the summer. Have you ever seen a heavy vegan? If you have, they’re probably cheating or live right next door foodswings. This is because they don’t have a lot of food options (especially if you’re short on cash), and those they do have are usually pretty healthy. There are plenty of chunky vegetarians, because, you know, ring-dings and plain pizza are still vegetarian.
- Eat things that take a while to eat. Fruit popsicles, sunflower seeds and other unshelled nuts will slow you the fuck down.
- Get your nutrition/caloric intake through food. Drink water.
- Go raw when you can. Most things don’t have to be cooked. It’s better for your system and more work to digest if you keep it fresh.
Dude #1: Ah, see that girl?
Dude #2: Yeah.
Dude #1: She is whack.
Dude #2: Didn’t you date her for like a year?
Dude #1: Yeah, but she wasn’t whack back then.
Dude #2: So it’s safe to say that you made her whack?
Dude #1: It was the crack that made her whack, I just cheated on her a lot.
For those of you who don’t know me, I’m a few mm’s short of 5′ 10. When I ride, my leg usually falls down off the sides of the horse. This weekend, I went up to a working farm full of Belgian Draft Horses that hadn’t been out of their stall in a while. So me and Emily decided to take a bareback trail ride on them. I cannot describe the magnitude of these animals… Just imagine that i’m a 3.5 foot tall hobbit riding a normal-sized horse and then it might make more sense how big he is.
Though the below is not the most flattering pic of me ever, this picture has to be seen: Out in the courtyard, we discovered a mantis. This was not just any mantis. He was frank, the fabulous dancis mantis. I kid you not. Eric started rocking side to side, “dancing”, as he faced the mantis, and the mantis BEGAN MIMICKING HIS MOVES, dancing with him. Seriously, no exaggeration, like straight out of Save the Last Dance when Julia Stiles is learning that hip-hop shoulder shift. You know what i’m talking about. We were all laughing in amazement, that is, until the thing lunged at his throat. I guess he wasn’t dancing so much as preparing to rip Eric’s head off. But anyways, Eric snapped this pic of me zoning out with pipes as the insect prepared to eat my head off too:
ACK.
