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A Fat Guy’s Folly – Friday Quick Reps

Each week I’m hoping to write a few short items on various things that strike me as I go through the Challenge. Some may get a reoccurring slot like one of those comedians on the Johnny Carson Show. Others may never come up again. Like Casper the Friendly Crossfit Ghost.

Any-who, let’s do some QUICK REPS.

Accidental Paleo violations: You’ve probably noticed that nearly every breakfast or lunch option comes in sandwich form. That’s convenient unless you’ve taken a vow of celibacy when it comes to the bread family. Plus, getting bacon or sausage as a side will cost you as much or more than just getting the sandwich and I’m thrifty. Read: cheap.

But, at least twice this week I’ve caught myself taking a bite of the sandwich before my brain registered that bread is forbidden. It’s like my neurons took a quick trip to the Poconos. Technically I’ve just cheated, but should I be penalized due to the result of decades of muscle reflex? I throw myself on the mercy of the court.

Also – unrelated – what the hell is up with putting mayo on a breakfast sandwich? Who wants mayo on their bacon biscuit? Sadists, that’s who.

The frittata is your friend: Listen, if you don’t know how to make this most delicious egg dish you need to stop what you’re doing and go learn. Now. Unless you’re in the middle of performing surgery. Then, you should probably keep doing that. Although you probably shouldn’t be reading this while elbow deep in a medical procedure. But, who am I to judge? I digress.

The frittata is basically the culinary version of a compost pile. Just take every random leftover meat and vegetable then toss them into cast iron skillet. Beat the eggs and pour them over the top. Let the bottom get brown. Stick it in the oven. Wait five to seven minutes. BOOM. Done. Bonus – it tastes way better and a compost pile.

Random sore part of my fat body: My right butt muscle. I have no idea how this happened. All I know that if I flex it at all, there appears to be an army of Keebler Elves tightening vice grips around my buttock. Those guys look a lot nicer on TV.

Wine recommendation: Well, this week I can give you an idea of what wine NOT to drink. Let’s just say that your wife has been out of town for like five days. And, then let’s just say there’s an open bottle of wine sitting on the wine rack. Now, you have no idea how long it’s been there. BUT, it is a red wine so therefore it’s Paleo. Gold mine.

No. Not a goldmine. More like a craptastic waste of my daily 6oz of red wine mine. It tasted like metal grapes and the tears of an elephant. Yum.

But, you better believe I powered through it.


Fat Guy in a Little Coat

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