Race to Your Face

Guest blogger! Guest blogger! Guest blogger!
You know, I beg you mofos all of the time to guest blog and none of you take me seriously. I was elated last night to receive this guest blog in my inbox last night from my buddy D-Dubs, who is as nice as he is good-looking!

D-Dubs and Mister Ferguson recently struck up a friendship over a mutual love of skiing and actually just returned from Whistler on a man-cation (vacation taken by men). How weird is it when your friend circles start overlapping? All of these dudes I went to high school with and have known for years are suddenly calling Mister Ferguson to go skiing! What am I, old news? At any rate, D-Dubs is a good friend to have and I’m happy to share him with my husband.

The subject of his guest blog this evening is speed eating, something which I am guilty of myself. I think it is because I usually wait until I’m absolutely starving to eat. When it’s time for lunch, I can’t get it down fast enough. I am always jealous of those “ladies” that are able to show restraint at the lunch table—the ones that order a salad and then appear as though they could care less if it arrives or not. I care. I place my order and then twitch like a crack addict until I get my sandwich. Then, look out! I am aware that if I ate smaller meals though out the day, I wouldn’t get like this. However, I’m my own worst enemy and refuse to diet correctly. Until I get some sense, I will continue to complain on my Web site about not being at my goal weight.

The following is a guest blog by D-Dubs:

I am a notoriously fast eater. It's in my blood. My dad used to eat 6pieces of Sam's Pizza (best pizza in the world, right next to Sarris's in Canonsburg) while driving home from Sam's—approx. 4 miles. My grandfather was known to down a dozen ears of corn no problem. Being a sprinter has its drawbacks. When I was growing up, it was not uncommon for me or my sisters to have to stop in the middle of a feeding and lie on the floor and moan from abdominal distention.

Nowadays, my friends will just be getting started on dinner and my plate will be clean. While this sounds like an exaggeration, today I got quantitative evidence of my problem. At lunchtime, I drove across the hot metal bridge to get lunch at Qdoba. I got lucky and found a metered spot right in front of the door. I threw a quarter in the meter, noticing that it already had 11 minutes. The addition of my quarter made it 41 minutes. Inside there were only two people in line, nice. When it was my turn, I ordered an "Ancho Chili BBQ Burrito,” naked with chips. For those that don't frequent Qdoba, the burritos are huge, especially if you top them like I do. I paid for my food and went to the drink station. Here I have a standard routine—squeeze two lemons into my cup, add ice, then Dr. Pepper. Then I got plastic ware, napkins, and Cholula hot sauce. I sat down, dowsed my food in hot sauce, and ate.

Upon exiting I noticed there were 29 minutes left on the meter. What????? I was not in a rush, I was not late for anything, just a creature of habit. I had mixed feelings—pride for being efficient, shame of being gross. I must look like a hostage while eating.

D-Dubs

PS—Opposites do attract because my wife is a marathon eater with stamina. I have seen her sit down with a wooden mallet in-hand and steadily and methodically consume Maryland crabs for 4 hours without rising from her chair.
For those of you who would like to see a video of D-Dubs at Qdoba, click here.


No surprise, speed eating is bad for weight loss. Some genius scientists set out to prove this by observing diners at 11 different Chinese buffet restaurants across the United States.
Their goal was to find out whether the eating behaviors of people at all-you-can-eat buffets varied based on their body mass.

Trained observers recorded the height, weight, gender, age, and behavior of 213 patrons. The various seating, serving and eating behaviors were then compared across BMI levels.

The heavier (higher BMI) patrons:
ate more quickly
chewed more food per bite
used forks
sat facing the food buffet


The thin (lower BMI) patrons:
ate more slowly
chewed less food per bite
used chopsticks
sat facing away from the food buffet

This study confirms earlier research from the University of Rhode Island published in the journal of the American Dietetic Association which found that eating slowly leads to decreases in energy intake.

Scientists even have a name for this now:
TIME-ENERGY DISPLACEMENT
It means that the more time you take to eat, the less energy (calories) you are likely to consume. The faster you eat, the more energy (calories) you’re likely to consume.

Big shocker. I could have told you that!

Tiddy's Shit List

I have MAJOR PMS this week. As a result, everyone and everything is managing to piss me off. Most days, I am extremely easy going and laid back. But when the red tide rises, nobody can escape Tiddy’s wrath.

In order to get even with those who have wronged me this week, I have decided to publicly shame them on my Web site for your enjoyment.


Verizon Wireless
I will be the first to admit that I am extremely hard on my phones. I don’t believe in fancy protectors and I am constantly dropping my Blackberry on the ground. Pretty much every two months I show up at the Verizon Wireless store with a broken phone. What makes me angry is that each time I have an issue, Verizon does ABSOLUTELY NOTHING to resolve it. All they do is tell me no. I have NEVER heard the words, “Yes, I can help you” uttered from the lips of a Verizon sales associate. I even purposely go to different stores each time so I’m not labeled as a “crazy customer.” At this point, I am completely convinced that the company has a training course that teaches employees to only say yes to new customers, and no to existing customers.

For example, this week I showed up with a missing trackball. I dropped my phone the night before. The ball fell out and Nacho ate it (at least I think that’s what happened—I haven’t seen it since). For those of you with a Blackberry, you know that the phone is practically unusable without the trackball. I was desperate for a replacement as I could not imagine spending five minutes without my phone. Don’t judge, it’s the truth. I was confident that my problem was minor and I would finally be satisfied with the outcome of a visit to the Verizon store.

When presented with my dilemma, the sales associated hemmed and hawed for about two minutes and then said, “We don’t really repair phones here anymore. Why don’t you go on the Internet and order the part from an independent dealer?”

“Why would I do that?” I shot back. I bought the phone from you. I pay five bucks a month to you for insurance. It’s your responsibility to fix the phone or replace it. I’m not paying some other company money for a part that you should be able to get out of the back room and pop into the handset. It would take you two seconds. If you give it to me, I will do it myself.”

He just looked at me and said, “Sorry. Can’t help you this time,” and gazed longingly at the new customer checking out phones on the wall. He was getting ready to walk away when I decided to really be a jerk. “Fine,” I said. “The phone is clearly broken, so just give me a new one and I will be on my way.” He said, “Can’t do it. You will have to order one and we will mail it to you. Plus, it will cost you 50 bucks.”

I looked over at the massive pile of new Blackberries and became irate. The guy really had me by the short and curlies. He was seriously not going to do anything for me. I gave him a speech about his shitty customer service and stormed out of the store. I found some random place that repairs phones and they replaced the trackball for 10 bucks and apologized that it was so expensive. What they didn’t know is by that point, I would have paid 30. Verizon Wireless is on my shit list for only accommodating new customers and doing ZERO for existing patrons. I don’t want them to kiss my ass, I just want them to provide a marginal amount of service.

My Dry Cleaner
When it comes to errands, I’m pretty lazy and forgetful. I don’t return movies and library books on time. My dry cleaning would sit at the store for months until I ran out of clothes and had no choice to pick it up. Needless to say, when Model cleaners came knocking at my door with an offer to pick up my clothes and drop them off weekly, I jumped at the chance. Things were great for the first few months. There were clean clothes in my closet! I always had something to wear to work. I felt put together and organized. The clothes would arrive clean and packed nicely. Eventually, however, the quality of service declined dramatically. For one thing, I am missing three sweaters. I have complained about this to customer service, the guy who picks up my clothes and the corporate office. Each attempt I have made to get my sweaters back has been useless. The person on the phone promises to “look into it” and then never gets back to me.

The other problem I have with Model cleaners is that whoever is actually cleaning my clothes is a pussy. I am constantly getting them back with a note saying, “I’m too afraid to take on this stain. I don’t want to ruin the fabric.” What am I supposed to do with that? I can’t wear them with a stain. The only option is to try to get the stain out. I couldn’t do it myself so I sent it to A PROFESSIONAL. If you ruin the fabric, I’m no worse off than I was with the stain. Grow a set. Clean the pants.

My scale
Is a liar. It is spiteful and refuses to give me correct information.

Mall Kiosk WorkersI’m not sure if this only in Pittsburgh, but the kiosk workers in the mall are INSANE. The biggest offenders are the ones that sell the Dead Sea lotion, ceramic flat irons and mineral make-up. You literally cannot walk through the mall without some Latin dude or chick popping around the corner saying, “Excuse me, can I ask you a question?” or “Let me see your make-up!” or “Where do you get your hair done?”

It drives me crazy. If I want to peruse the wares in the middle of the mall, I will. I don’t need some overly aggressive cheesy sales rep accosting me during my relaxing time. I am really tired of pretending to be on my phone or taking alternate routes to stores in order to avoid these assholes. This week I got so pisssed off that I reported one of them to guest services. I don’t think they will get kicked out due to my complaint, but something had to be said. If this continues, I am going to have to take my shopping online permanently.

My Period
It was my understanding that as a female, I was to endure one week of PMS and one week of period. However, the older I get, the longer the battle with my period lasts. My PMS has extended itself to almost two weeks of weight gain, mood swings and chocolate eating. This, coupled with a week-long period leaves me with only one good week a month.

That’s enough bitching for one day. I have some cool Web sites for you guys to check out that I will include in my next blog, along with lists of favorite things compiled by my readers.

Urban Dictionary

Most days, I feel like I'm still 21. However, once in a while something happens that reminds me that I'm not as with it as I used to be. The other day, I went out for a run and realized that almost every song on my ipod that was released in the past year has the word "swagger" in it. I even saw a commercial featuring LL Cool J for a deodorant called "Old Spice Swagger." When did this word creep into the scene? Where have I been? Am I not watching enough MTV? I'm cool, right?

A couple of years ago, something happened that made me realize that there is a whole other language that I have not been privy to since I began the third decade of my life. Picture this:

My family spends Christmas in a cabin in the woods. It's awesome. We are in the middle of nowhere. Nobody has cell phone reception, there's no Internet. It's like 1994 out there! We cut down a Christmas tree, make our own ornaments and spend the holidays getting back to the simple joys of life--food, wine, games and family. We also have a lot of time on our hands. When the Soulja Boy dance came out, the whole family dedicated hours to learning all of the moves. I haven't seen such a group effort since we all learned to moonwalk. Souja Boy must have been played 200 hundred times!

We were all swollen with pride when we arrived at my Aunt Prissy's house to show off our skills. My six-year-old niece was even running though the house screaming, "Superman!" At that point, I saw my college age cousin (who I adore) smirking to himself in the corner.

I went over and asked him why he was laughing at us. "Is the Soulja Boy dance already out?" I inquired.

He said, "Do you have any idea what 'Superman' means? I'm not going to tell you. Go look it up at urbandictionary.com."

I went into the den, logged onto the computer and typed "Superman" into the search engine. This is what I read:

"Superman is when a guy ejaculates on a girl's back and sticks the bed sheet to it. When she wakes in the morning and the sheet is stuck to her back, you have officially supermanned that hoe."

How embarrassing. How on Earth did I not know that? The song lyrics clearly state "Superman that hoe."

As soon as I got home from Christmas vacation, I signed up for daily updates from urbandictionary.com so I could keep my finger on the pulse of the English language. Each day, a new word and definition is emailed to me. Most of them are lame, but there was one this week that made me laugh:

Ghetto Upgrade
When you are flying economy on a near empty flight and can lay across an entire row of seats.

Example:

"I got a ghetto upgrade on my flight out west and was able to sleep most of the way."

In other news, I am two weeks away from the marathon and I'm feeling pretty good about the race. So excited Kiddy F. is coming back to the 'Burgh! Thanks so much to everyone who donated to my livestrong.org Web site! Also thank you for all of the great song suggestions!

 

Hopscotch

I’m reading Valley of the Dolls for the third time. Each time I read it, I fall in love with the story all over again. It was written in the 60s, yet it is so scandalous! Drugs! Sex! Entertainment! More drugs! I’ve read every book by Jacqueline Susann and they are all incredible. If you have not yet read Valley of the Dolls, get it ASAP. I check it out of the Mt. Lebanon library every couple of years. Sometimes I wonder if anyone else does, or if it just sits on the shelf and waits for me to return.

Several of you have written to me and asked about my progress with the Resveratrol/Soy Isoflavones experiment. Here’s the lowdown:

I have not lost any weight, yet I have not gained any
I do feel leaner around the spare tire and rotten peaches regions.
I do have natural energy and don’t experience my “tired time” which typically occurred around 2 pm
I’m not that hungry. The combination seems to keep my blood sugar steady all day so I’m not ATTACKING food.

Although I haven’t achieved the results I initially wanted (losing tons of weight while doing absolutely nothing), I think it has definitely helped. You have to be careful about what Resveratrol you order. Since everyone is talking about it, a lot of supplement makers have gotten on the bandwagon and some are offering products that aren’t legit. Through my research, I have found a brand that has been independently tested and the ingredients are actually pretty close to what is listed on the bottle. I have also found the cheapest price for you. To order, click here.

In other news, the marathon training is going as planned. I ran more than 14 miles on Saturday! The hours following the run—not so much fun. I developed debilitating shin splints and a raging case of swamp ass, which I self-diagnosed. The good news is that I followed the rules this time and had a pasta dinner the night before, drank two glasses of wine and went to bed early. I ate a Zone bar and drank two cups of Jet Fuel (available for your Keurig coffee maker) before I left. All of this made a huge difference in my performance. Through my marathon journey, I have tried a lot of different approaches the night before a long run. Here is a list of things NOT to do:

Eat Mexican food. Hot sauce in particular.
Drink Scotch.
Watch movies with your brother-in-law until 3 am.
Smoke cigars.
Do a P90x plyometrics video

All common sense, in retrospect. But what can I say? You have to learn from your mistakes.

I have also gotten some great suggestions from all of you for my running playlist. Not to sound greedy, but I need more. The following is the current playlist I am using. You might laugh out loud at some of the songs, but it is really random what motivates people. PLEASE PLEASE PLEASE send me some song suggestions. I am getting so bored!

For the first time ever in print—I give you Tiddy Ferguson’s Pittsburgh Marathon Playlist:

Alphabet Aerobics—Blackalicious
American Boy—Kanye West
Bonnie and Shyne—Shyne
The Boys of Summer—The Ataris
Express Yourself—NWA
Fergalicious—Fergie
Google Me—Teyana Taylor
Hustlin—Rick Ross
I’m Me—Lil Wayne
Jesus Walks—Kayne West (this always comes on at a point when I need Jesus)
Just Like Heaven—The Cure
Love Song—Sara Bareilles
Paper Planes—MIA
Nine in the Afternoon—Panic at the Disco
So What—PINK
These Words—Natasha Bedingfield
Till I Collapse—Eminem
Your Love—The Outfield
Nasty Girl—Notorious BIG
Never Wanted Nothing More—Kenny Chesney
King Without a Crown—Matisyahu
That’s Not My Name—The Ting Tings
Rosanna—Toto
Rich Girl—Hall and Oates
Dixieland Delight—Alabama
Swagger Like Us—Kanye, Jay-Z, etc.
Brooklyn Go Hard—Jay-Z
Ain’t No Half Steppin’—Big Daddy Kane
What’s Beef—Biggie Smalls
Love is Blind—EVE
Back in the High Life Again—Steve Winwood
Take it Off—The Donnas
Crazy—Gnarls Barkley
Everywhere—Michelle Branch
Slide—Goo Goo Dolls
Womanizer—Britney Spears
Fresh Azimiz—Bow Wow
Good Life—Kanye West
I Ain’t No Joke—Erik B and Rakim
Positivity—Stevie Wonder
Ain’t No Stopping Sunshine—Yoli
99 Problems—Jay Z

That's it! I'm going for a run and then Mister Ferguson and I are going to the Harp and Fiddle to watch our good friend Eaton Beaver play a live show! I will have a Scotch and water, as that is my new favorite drink. It's not as hardcore as it sounds, although I must admit it makes me feel like a badass when I order one. Mixed with water, it is a low-calorie libation. Also, I don't drink it quickly and one drink lasts a long time. Mister Ferguson claims that I am sharp as a tack when I drink Scotch.

 

"Weighting" on a Change

I’ve grown tired of obsessing over my weight. It’s been going on for 15 years and I’m exhausted. It occurred to me today that for as long as I can remember, not a day has gone by that my muffin top, second chin and rotten peaches (stores of fat on the underside of the arm) have not been at the top of my mind.

In fact, each day I get out of bed it is the first thing I think about. I pee, strip off all of my clothes (including any jewelry) and weigh myself. I record that weight into a little notebook, even though there is little to no movement. Every single day. Once a week, I get out a measuring tape and record the circumference of my waist, thighs and rotten peaches. Get a life, Tiddy!

The most hilarious part of my sad saga is that other than exercising, I do little to correct my lifestyle—hoping, instead, for a miracle. I do work out, but that is only part of the weight loss equation. What you don’t know is that I am a regular at the Sonic drive-through, Burger King and Arby’s. All of the running I have to do to train for the marathon makes me ravenous, and I never feel like I am satisfied. I eat breakfast and immediately start thinking about what I’m doing for lunch. I could eat a large pizza by myself and still have room for breadsticks. I’m a bottomless pit. It’s total bullshit. You think I started training for this marathon for fun? No. The only reason I did it is so that I would be totally hot by the time summer rolled around. There’s only a month left until the race and unless I start melting like a popsicle, I’m going to have to rework my plan.

According to my Women’s Health magazine, the first step is to create a food journal and write down everything you eat. I started mine yesterday. I ran into my weight loss partner-in-crime at a work meeting in the afternoon and showed it to her. She started reading it and busted out laughing. It was mostly normal stuff, but what caught her eye was the CADBURY CRÈME EGG. She found that amusing because she knows that every year around Easter, the eggs are Tiddy’s Kryptonite. I cannot go a day without eating one and it drives me crazy just knowing they are available for sale in the store.

I like the food journal because it is all there in black and white. I’m on day two and have only lied to myself twice. I like to use a pencil so I can make changes on the fly—changes that erase things that took place earlier in the day so I can free up my afternoon for CADBURY CRÈME EGGS!

I was bitching about my weight-loss woes to one of my doctors the other day and he told me to buy two supplements—Resveratrol and Soy Isoflavones. According to researchers at the University of Georgia, the two antioxidants mixed together reduced cells’ ability to store fat by 80% and caused fat cells to self-destruct at a rate 246% higher than normal--causing a natural, harmless form of fat-cell death. Upon hearing this, I ran out of his office like a bat out of hell and high-tailed it straight to GNC, where I purchased the supplements and gulped them down in the parking lot. I’ve been on them for about five days now, and I could really tell something was happening at first. Yesterday, however, old lady period rolled into town masking all progress, so I will have to get back to you on the results later.

Another tip I received from the good doctor was to purchase “Full Bars.” These are nutrition supplement bars that you eat twice a day—before lunch and dinner. The idea is that when ingested with 8 ounces of water, the ingredients are supposed to mimic the effects of gastric bypass surgery, causing you to feel full and eat less of your regular meal. The only caveat is that the bars contain 180 calories each, so you better hope it fills you up before you dive into dinner!

I bought a few of them and I must say, they did make me feel a little more satisfied than usual. I have found that it is a good mid-morning snack for me. Lunch is when I am on my worst behavior, so I need all of the help I can get.

According to the BMI (body mass index) scale, I am at a normal weight. Not obese, not underweight, just normal. However, according to the TMI (Tiddy mass index) scale, I am not at goal weight. Not even close. Whoever said you need to eat lose to lose weight was full of shit. Okay, maybe you need to eat the RIGHT things to lose weight!

Will there ever come a day when I don’t think about my weight? Why am I so hard on myself? Even when I’m at my goal, I’m worried about maintaining it. I guess the answer is that I need to start following some sort of lifestyle and stop eating cheeseburgers whenever I damn well please. I’ll keep you posted on what I come up with. In the meantime, I welcome any sort of tips and suggestions you may have for me!

Also, I really appreciate all of the song suggestions you guys have sent to me, and please keep them coming! I need so many more songs. Lacey Underalls informed me today that one of my readers is running a marathon REALLY soon, so I will post my entire playlist tomorrow.

I got a really great email from one of my old high school (and current day) chums D Dubs. It read:

Tiddy:

Rewind twelve months. You were out having fun and a friend wanted to take a picture with you using their cool camera phone. It made you feel good because you thought that they liked you enough to want a photo keepsake of your moment together. But today when a friend says, "lets take a picture" it's more like, "will you 'up' my social standing on Facebook by being added to my mobile-uploads gallery?" When friends take our picture these days, are we being used?

PS...you are even hotter now than you were in high school (just kidding, he didn't write THAT part!)

Your Friend,

D Dubs

I laughed at this email when it came in because it is so true. For example, Mister Ferguson and I went to the Southside with some friends on Saturday to celebrate St. Patrick's Day. Eventually, the cameras came out and we all started staging photo ops. "Look at us! We're all wearing green shirts! The slutty Miller Lite girls just gave us shamrock Mardi Gras beads! We're 30 and still so crazy!"

Inevitably, after every photo was taken, I immediately checked it out and imagined what it was going to look like posted on my Facebook account later. Did my face look fat? Was my muffin top showing? What would I use for a caption?

You might read this and think I'm completely ridiculous. Don't judge me! You know you all do the same thing. Did you notice that nobody ever posts unflattering photos of themselves on Facebook? Whenever somebody tags me in a picture and I don't like the way I look, I untag that shit immediately. You never know what sort of ex-boyfriend or enemy is stalking your profile and it is always important to look your best.

Speaking of Facebook, my Aunt Ferguson started a group on the site called "Pearls on Wednesdays" that encourages its members to wear pearls every Wednesday no matter what. I joined the group even though I didn't own a strand and couldn't really participate. However, much to my delight, my dear Aunt sent me my very own pearls for Valentine's Day! I feel so grown up and lady-like. I have faithfully donned them every Wednesday since they arrived and I must say they really do class up an outfit. I would love it if all of my readers would join in and wear pearls on Wednesdays. You could start tomorrow!

In other news, I am 47% sure I saw a drug deal take place today. I was terrified and secretly thrilled at the same time. I'm pretty sure this gives me the street cred that I've always felt I deserve.

I'm going to upload some photos onto Facebook and lay my pearls out for tomorrow.

Download this: Allentown by Billy Joel (I really like to sing this in the car and substitute 'Morgantown' for 'Allentown'. It never gets old.)

Tiddy Ferguson says: The best way to succeed in life is to act on the advice we give to others.

Pittsburgh (We Go Hard)

For all of you who thought you were beating the system by unscrewing the top of your "I Can't Believe it's Not Butter" spray and dumping it into your Kraft Macaroni and Cheese to make it fat free, think again.

It's the spray technology that makes it fat free. In fact, the entire bottle contains 900 calories and 90 grams of fat. I don't know about you, but I am devastated by this news. I have been substituting spray butter for the real thing for years and this explains A LOT. Bottom line--if you are currently practicing this culinary charade, you need to cease and desist immediately!

In keeping with my grueling marathon training schedule, Mister Ferguson decided it would be fun we both participated in a 10 mile "Shamrock Shuffle" on Saturday morning. Races are nothing new for Tiddy, I've been a casual runner for years. I enjoy showing up, running a new course, getting a t-shirt and maybe a cookie at the end. I don't come in first, I don't come in last. On the way there, I don't think much about the race. I'm too busy trying to slurp down as much coffee as I can so I'm juiced up enough to finish the damn thing.

On the opposite end of the spectrum sits Mister Ferguson. Whereas I am a mere participator, he is a competitor. I guess I didn't realize this was his FIRST RACE EVER, but it became very apparent as we approached the site. When we arrived, he immediately began sizing up all of the runners that were congregated in the parking lot while I was busy casing the joint for a Porta Potty.

What's annoying is that the serious runners were all taking a light jog (that resembles my full-on sprint) to loosen themselves up for the big dance. Treating this as though it were the Olympic trials, Mister Ferguson decided he also needed a warm-up run to adequately compete. "Come on, Tiddy!" he pleaded. "Let's get out there and get our muscles ready for the race!"

I informed him that this was not my first rodeo and I was quite sure I was going to need everything I had and more to finish the race. I had no desire to get out there and show off by running before it was absolutely necessary. He was a little dejected, but knew I spoke the truth.

A mere ten minutes later, we were lined up and ready to go. He high-fived me and wished me a good race and slowly started to edge his way to the front. I knew my place, so I hung back with the rest of the cruisers.

As soon as I finished the first mile, I knew I was in for one hell of a run. Some sort of sadist designed the course and it was full of hills and smells of cow manure. I amused myself by counting the dead possums on the road. Wow--their tails are really long! I can't complain, though. I finished the race and my iPod was kind, playing the right songs at the right time. If you would get a gander at my playlist, you would swear I was some sort of gangster or hoodrat. There is a TON of hardcore rap and some random Steve Winwood, Lionel Richie...whatever gets me through. Sometimes I catch myself rapping out loud to NWA and it is pretty embarrassing. Right now, my power song is "Swagger Like Us." This song is great to run to and also contains such valuable insights as:

"No, I can't teach you my swag. You can pay for school but you can't buy class."

"I can't wear skinny jeans 'cause my nuts don't fit."

"I'm Christopher Columbus, ya'll just pilgrims."

I did see Mister Ferguson at one point during the race when he lapped me by a pretty significant distance. He had a huge smile on his face and was galloping down the road like Seabiscuit. I'm pretty sure I was wearing a grimace and throwing gang signs.

The good news--Mister Ferguson finished the race in 1:17! I finished a long time after that! We both got really nice long sleeve t-shirts with a leprechaun on the front and I really felt like I earned it!

Like I mentioned before, I am running the Pittsburgh Marathon. It is 26.2 miles and since I run really slow, it will take me about 10 years to finish it. As a result, I am going to need a lot of songs on my playlist to get me through the race. That's where YOU come in. I am calling on all of the readers of tiddy.com to send me any songs get you going in the gym, on the road or in the car. You can send them to me at tiddyferguson@gmail.com or comment on the blog. Either way, I need you! My existing playlist is getting old and I'm losing steam.

 

No Quiero Taco Bell

I decided to have lunch at Taco Bell yesterday (by myself—so sad) and the drive-thru line was WAY too long so I bit the bullet and went in the restaurant. Usually I like to scarf down my tacos while driving with one hand and talking on my cell phone. I’m dangerous.

I figured I would be in and out in about ten minutes tops. I couldn’t have been more wrong. A very old man took my order at the counter and disappeared. I stood at the register and waited. After five minutes, I was really becoming impatient. How long does it take to put together a taco? I was ravenous and ready to jump behind the counter and pitch in when a 300 pound lady came to the front and asked if I had placed my order. I calmly replied that I had and was waiting for my food. She rolled her eyes at me and went into the back. I could hear her talking to her coworkers in the kitchen as she exclaimed, “She just standin’ there like a bump on a log waitin’ on her food, lookin’ all dumb!”

I couldn’t believe my ears. I was in a real predicament. Part of me wanted to be pissed, but I was laughing so hard on the inside that I had to bite my lip. The lady came back up front and handed me a cup so I could busy myself getting a drink while the crew in the back continued to make fun of me and took their sweet ass time making my tacos.

At the drink island, something struck me as odd. There were ten drink flavor choices, yet only one of them was diet. I realize that the population generally favors regular soda, but you cannot tell me that only one-tenth drinks diet. I refuse to believe it. As it was, Diet Pepsi was my only option so I took it. Tiddy really prefers Diet Coke.

I returned to the counter and continued to “look all dumb” until another surly employee came to the front and tossed a bag of tacos at me without saying a word. I had originally planned on eating in the dining room, but I was so baffled by what had just taken place that I took my tacos and ran away from the border.

Once in my car, I wrestled with thoughts of what could have taken place in the back of the kitchen. The employees had obviously taken a dislike to me. What if there were pubes in my tacos? What if the old man with the grey hair shook some of his beard dandruff in my cheese? The thought was too much for me to bear. I simply could not eat the tacos.

I polished off my Diet Pepsi and rummaged around my car for some Tootsie Rolls. Not the most nutritious lunch, but better safe than sorry. Nobody wants to eat a pube taco.

Two more days until I leave for the Super Bowl! Tiddy is going to Tampa!

poo poo platter

Yesterday I was walking down the hallway in my house and got a whiff of something that made me throw up in my mouth a little. Mister Ferguson had apparently had his morning coffee and had visited the bathroom a few minutes before. He likes to use the same bathroom every morning for number two. Unfortunately, I like to use it also and he always beats me to it.

Fast forward 30 minutes later. The stench was gone and I was heading in for my own little private time with the latest copy of the New Yorker. As I sat reading about Obama’s inauguration, my own brand of poo began to permeate the air. As usual, it did not faze me and I continued reading for the next 15 minutes in my own little stink cloud.

As I began to wrap up my little bathroom session, a strange thought entered my mind. Why are we repulsed by the smell of other people’s poo, yet don’t mind hanging out with our own toxic waste? I know my poo stinks. I smell it while I’m in there, and it’s bad. It doesn’t bother me, though. I’ll even re-enter and start brushing my teeth five minutes later if I’m pressed for time, even though it still reeks in there. Yet Mister Ferguson takes a dump and I can’t go within fifty feet of the bathroom. I literally start gagging and covering my nose with a t-shirt. It’s not that his poo smells any worse than mine, it just didn’t come out of my body so I’m disgusted.

Anyway, I tried to Google the answer to my question but came up short. Seems like there isn’t a scientific answer to why I think my shit doesn’t stink. However, I did find an answer to why shit stinks in general:

Poos are about 75% water. The remaining 25% is made up of a mixture of things: stuff your body can’t break down (have you ever noticed whole corn kernels in your poo) some salt, bile (bile is made up of dead red blood cells from your liver) and, of course, bacteria. Excrement is not very nice stuff and transmits lots of nasty diseases via the mean bacteria that lurks in it. it is bacteria, combined with food wastes, that turn bile in poo brown, explaining the characteristic brown color.

The smelly substance in excrement is called skatole (3-methylindole), and it is the substance to which the human nose is most sensitive on a per molecule basis. It is present in feces because it is a breakdown product from hemoglobin (found in red blood cells) that enters the gut via bile. The reason we have evolved to be so sensitive to the smell of this substance is that, by making poo smell so terrible to us, evolution has ensured that we remain repelled by our own poo. If we hate the smell, we know that its bad and we steer clear of it as much as possible.

There’s your science lesson for the day. If you’ll excuse me, I just got a new issue of the New Yorker in the mail.

Here we go Steelers!

Hello old friends. Wow! It has certainly been a while since I wrote on my blog! What can I say? The holidays really had their way with me!

But alas, here we are again. New year, new attitude. I’m focused and committed to life, love and having a good time. Tiddy is back for good.

We have a lot to talk about so let’s get started. First and most importantly, the Steelers are going to the Super Bowl! I am so excited I can hardly stand it. Mister Ferguson and I decided to book plane tickets to Tampa last week and it really paid off! We made the decision on a whim and thought that we would just take a mini vacation to Florida if the game didn’t pan out. A win-win situation if you ask me!

Now I have a mere two weeks to drop a few pounds, get a little color and a mani/pedi. It’s really funny how you tend to let yourself go when the temperatures plummet. You wait a couple of extra days to shave your legs. You don’t say no to that extra piece of pizza—even though you know you’re going to feel like shit after you eat it. The lady from the gym calls you and asks if everything is okay because your membership has been inactive. Day after day, you trudge out of bed, wrap yourself up like a mummy and face the elements. Once you get to work, you begin counting the minutes until you can go home and wrap yourself in a blanket and veg out in front of the television. Depressing.

It takes a shock to the system like a spur of the moment trip to Tampa to get your motor running again. I feel like an actual person instead of a winter zombie! I wonder—
If I lived in a warm climate, would I be the best possible version of myself year-round? Don’t get me wrong, I don’t hate the snow. I think it is beautiful and I really enjoy skiing. It’s just Monday through Friday that’s the problem!

Enough bitching. Let’s end on a high note. I recently finished reading The Shack and it was a great way to start the New Year. If you haven’t read it, you should—especially if you struggle with faith, religion, your purpose on Earth, etc.

Each New Year’s Day, I make the same resolutions:

1. Lose weight/exercise
2. Stop drinking so much
3. Stop talking shit on people
4. Don’t worry so much/manage what I can control
5. Be a better communicator/learn how to say no

Tiddy’s Five Commandments last about two weeks if I’m lucky. Honestly, I don’t even know why I set myself up for failure! However, after reading The Shack, I have a new perspective. I’m not going to say on life because that would be giving a book too much credit, but it really did make me think. The whole message is to live your life without an agenda and realize you have no authority to judge other people. These are two areas where Tiddy struggles big time! Admitting it is the first step!

So far this year, I’m looking at people through a different set of eyes. I’m trying not to jump to conclusions or get angry over stupid things. In 2009 Tiddy is all about understanding where someone is coming from—sympathize rather than criticize! It’s the third week of January so things are going pretty well.

If you’re in winter zombie mode yourself, it’s time to:

1. Get off your ass and go to the gym
2. Shave your legs/armpits/face, pubes, etc.
3. Buy The Shack
4. Put down the pizza

In accordance with my own resolutions, I’m going to for a run now. Supposedly I am running the Pittsburgh Marathon in May and I have a LONG way to go. Afterwards, I will drink a bottle of wine. Hey, we all knew the not drinking thing wasn’t going to happen. Plus, it’s the winter.