Trying to Get In Shape

So a week ago I decided that I miss being in shape. See-long time ago, in a galaxy far, far away I actually did not have the body of Keith Richards. Oh, I used to swim laps, lift weights, I used to surf every day. You wouldn't know it to look at me now, but I was actually a human being once.

But, then I had a hernia that needed surgery, and I stopped working out, and I never really started again. On top of which I I started smoking, started drinking more, started referring to bacon and cheese as condiments...it's not pretty.

Now for a long time I was content to just give up on ever being healthy again entirely, and as much as I hate to be a flip-flopper, I decided I might need to settle in for the long haul. See-I never actually thought I would live this long. I always figured I'd go out young and leave a beautiful corpse like James Dean. However, from my experience, much like The Grimace, it seems as if no conventional means can kill me. As such, if I'm going to live a long life it's probably better to do so without emphysema, cirrhosis, quadruple bypasses, etc.

So this past week I gave up two staples of my very being-beer and cigarettes, or as I called them, "my comfort foods." And, I don't miss them...yet. Because the first couple days of giving up stuff is always relatively easy. Oh, they say it's the hardest time, but they are wrong. Let me tell you what the hardest time is-having to sit through anyone you find boring, annoying, or just plain stupid without a drink or a smoke. I don't claim to know anything about this world let alone if there is any sort of afterlife, but let me tell you that if there is a Hell then I'm pretty sure I'm going to be sitting in hot room between Paris Hilton and Al Gore with an empty pack of Pall Malls and a bone-dry bottle of Johnny Walker Black, begging for the devil to just stab me in the eyes with a pitch fork repeatedly instead.