Archive for diet soda

Sweet and Sweetener

Posted in food, health with tags , , , , , , , , , , , on May 22, 2008 by hoagiefest 2020

toothpaste for dinner

Aspartame done effed me up.

For a while I was–with the exception of a diet soda every day–eating “naturally.” I wasn’t ingesting any of those silly chemicals. My diet consisted solely of fresh fruits and vegetables, lean meats, and dry cereals.

So when I jumped back on the “artificially sweetened candy” train, I wasn’t expecting what I got. I’ve been doing about seven sticks of “Extra” sugar-free gum daily to get myself through work. It may not seem like a lot–35 calories, but those chemicals do something special to you.

To put it lightly, Intense, daily gastrointestinal distress. Like, you have to hightail it to the bathroom or you’re done for! Thanks to freaking delicious bubble gum, I broke my streak of “No Twosies in Public Restrooms” for the first time in five years.

I used to say “p’shaw” to the clowns that talk smack on my good friend the calorie-free sweetener. I’ve seen the error of my ways, and it’s manifest in the error lingering around the bathroom.

At the moment, this is just aspartame. I haven’t noticed any detrimental effects with Splenda (and I consume a lot of it), but I wouldn’t be surprised if Splenda winds up turning my ears into butts that poop other, smaller butts onto the shoulders of my friends. Or something.

Eating out: it’s not ONLY beneficial to your ladyfriend

Posted in food with tags , , , , , , , , , , , , , , , , , , , , , , , , , , , , , , , , , , , , , , , , , on April 7, 2008 by hoagiefest 2020

Just like every other aspect of eating, restaurant-dining and I have had a bit of a tenuous relationship over the past three or four years. Oftentimes, I would accompany my family and friends to restaurants, only to order “just a Diet Coke,” or “decaf coffee, black.” More often, though, I would just avoid the whole eating-out situation altogether.

I’ve been better lately–I’ve been eating veggie burgers and salads. Pintos and cheese is a new Taco Bell mainstay. Hell, I’ve even scarfed down a slice of pizza or two since I’ve started trying to fix myself.

A great source of inspiration–or at least a handy resource guide towards not being crazy at restaurants–can be found on Crack Fitness NYC. Melissa offers seven helpful hints for actually enjoying your dining experience, still remaining healthy, and avoiding the shame you would invariably bring your friends and accomplices over dinner. Here is an interesting excerpt, although I would strongly recommend reading this entire article:

Tip #2 *The ONE request rule. This is huge. This can transform your relationship with eating out if it makes you uncomfortable. You can only ask the waiter to make one substitution for the entire meal. So if you want your omelet with egg white only, don’t ask for it to be cooked without oil. If you want you salad dressing on the side, don’t drill the person about the way the cook your fish. If you want your fish cooked with olive oil not butter, make that your request. So let’s say your fish comes drenched a top a pool of teriyaki, just move it to a separate plate, so you have a reasonable amount of sauce.

One of these tips is to look at a menu and see if there is something you will actually eat on there beforehand. It saves you a whole lot of hassle. You don’t want to get seated at Denny’s (the epitome of fine dining, of course) and find yourself torn between the Grand Slam Breakfast, the Grand Grand Slam Breakfast, and the Fatboy Special–eight pieces of deep-fried french toast spread thick with lardo.

There are a number of items and sites that facilitate my particular brand of obsessive-compulsive, mildly-disordered crazyeating, which probably goes completely against the intentions of Melissa’s article but dag-nabbit it’s progress.

Red Robin’s website is my favorite. They have a burger customizer, which allows you to get accurate (but limited) nutritional information of all of their food, including the condiments you want and the side dishes you shouldn’t be eating. By the way. a lonely, bunless Gardenburger sitting on a cold plate is a mere 100 calories, which is a small price to pay for being the laughing-stock of your table.

Of course, everyone is familiar with those cheap paper menus they make available at the fast food joints now. Taco Bell, McDonald’s, and Subway (which is, by no means, a healthy weight-loss regime, by the bye) have had the most easily-available nutritional information in my opinion, but these days they all have some sort of guide or calculator on their website. Even Pizza Hut and Kentucky Fried Chicken have gotten in on the game, although I think that’s simply to rub their fiendish coronary-murder-plot in your face before you croak.

Anyway, I guess this post was my successful attempt to crazy up a perfectly good and valid link. If you want real advice from somebody who is not a crazy crazy that is crazy, see the post at Crack Fitness NYC.

Indulge Your Senses

Posted in food with tags , , , , , , , , , , , , , , , , , , , , , , , , on March 11, 2007 by hoagiefest 2020

Sour Grapes

Posted in fiction, food with tags , , , , , , , , , on May 11, 2004 by hoagiefest 2020

We met in the supermarket. She was pushing her baby along in the shopping cart, which was stuffed with disposable diapers, jars of Gerber, diet pop, and TV dinners. I rolled my cart full of canned goods and bottles of liquor next to her cart and parked it. She was filling a small produce bag with sour grapes. I didn’t need any fruit at my apartment–I subside mainly on condensed soup and Jim Beam–but I was so smitten with the blonde beauty that I had to pretend. Inspecting nearby melons, I casually wandered closer and closer to my unwitting crush. As I meandered towards her, I noticed a tiny stud in her left nostril, glistening with the light of the produce department. She was my kind of girl, the type that probably had pink hair and a bad attitude in high school. I began filling a plastic sack with cherries, not cognizant of the actions of my hands. My eyes and my mind were on only one thing: the stunning vision in front of me. She couldn’t have been over twenty-one, but the lines on her face showed a wisdom–a wisdom that probably came from raising a child at such a young age.

“Hi.” The angel’s song had come from over my shoulder. I spun around, probably much too quickly to seem as suave as I thought I was, and made the first eye contact. Her blue eyes shot daggers right into my own, and instantly I was awestruck. Unable to speak, I sent a smile and a nod in her direction. She opened her mouth to speak: her gorgeous pink lips, contrasting beautifully with her white face, lifted to show pearly, white teeth. “I couldn’t help but notice that you’ve really been stocking up on the cherries there.” For the first time, I looked down at the basket of my cart. I had filled four produce bags with bright red cherries. The gorgeous, pale-skinned maiden arched her golden eyebrow at me as I brought my eyes back upwards to hers.

“Yeah,” I assented. “I love cherries. Keep a man healthy, wealthy, and wise.” Did I actually say that? I did–but what did I mean by that? Obviously, living in isolation for three years had dulled my wits to the point where I could no longer think on my toes. I looked at the girl for any sign of disgust or distaste, but I received instead a wide grin and the sight of rosy, blushing cheeks.

She introduced herself as Kate, and I did the same. Then, when I realized what I had said, I introduced myself properly. My bumbling mistakes must have seemed like well-timed jokes to the girl, because she just wouldn’t stop smiling at me. I was in love with this girl already, and I had only known her for all of thirty seconds.

“Anyway,” she said, “the reason I approached you is that while you were busy grabbing fistfuls of cherries, you accidentally grabbed my baby’s pacifier from her mouth. It’s in one of those bags, and I wanted to know if I could get that back.” I was dumbstruck as I stuttered an apology and fished through the heaping bags of fruit. Eventually, I came upon the pacifier and plucked it from its red grave. The girl snatched the pacifier from my hand and thanked me with a smile. With that, she wandered away towards the deli with bawling child in tow.

I dumped the multiple bags of cherries back into their green bin and walked away, red with embarrassment. I quickly paid for my alcohol and soup, rushed out to my car, and sped away. While driving, I realized that the events such as the grocery store incident were the reason I live alone and only leave to work and shop. I got back to my slum of an apartment, locked and deadbolted the door, and went immediately to sleep.