Lotsa Pasta (Holy Spaghetti, Batman!)

You know, I’m a pretty nice person. I am really am – I do good deeds. I try to help people whether they are friends or total strangers. I send my mother cards on her birthday, Christmas and Mother’s Day. I share my lunch with my co-workers. I try to encourage other writers to keep at their work. I make Christmas dinners and decorate the house for roomie. If I see a movie or something I know a friend wants I pick it up for them. I listen to telemarketers before I politely end the call. I recycle. I clean up after myself. I pay my bills, balance my checkbook, apologize when I act like an ass. I’m even nice to liberals…

After all that, you’d think that God would let me eat pasta. You’d think that he’d give me a pass on that one thing. (at least Angel Hair)That he keep it from settling in my ass and thighs. I’m not even talking about adding garlic bread here – just pasta.

But no. No such luck. I am destined to eat pasta and be the size of a city bus or pass on it and force myself to eat the lousy anti-pasto. And what’s up with that. Since when do you name foods for being pro or con? Anti-pasto always makes me think of anti-freeze. I suppose the comparison is about right. Pasta freezes up in my system for sure, where anti-pasto slides right through.

But oh to give up pasta…alfredo, bolognese, carbonara, lasagna, manicotti, vermicelli, primavera – red sauce, white sauce, clam sauce, meat sauce….the list goes on and on. And don’t even get me started on noodles and macaroni! It tastes so good going down but once it hits the old metabolism it acts like cement and mortar. Unfair. Totally, completely and absolutely unfair. And really illogical.

Genetically speaking I’m Irish and German – lots of starch in those diets. Shouldn’t my metab be geared to suck that stuff up? Shouldn’t it have the enzymes and whatever to use that fuel instead of storing it for a famine. Hmmm….well there was that famine in Ireland way back…do you think?

So God, I’m asking you puleeze, let me have lotsa pasta. Any time. Anywhere. Let it be the fuel that my body thrives on. Let it go in and let it go out. Instead of it stopping and forming mass in the ass. Let your glorious light shine down on my spaghetti bowl – lead me not into protein but good old fashioned starch. Open up your loving aura and lead me not to covet thy neighbor’s ravioli. Pray with me people. Help this miracle happen! Together we can do it. Let’s all lobby for linguine. Sing for spaghetti. Praise the pasta, people! Let it ring forth from your very souls……

Can I get an amen?

What Would Happen if….?

Despite the fact that I feel like I’ve been doing this forever, in reality I’ve been blogging a couple of weeks. A short time to develop such an overwhelming obsession – at least I think so.

I am currently fighting the urge to ‘check’ the blog every 90 seconds or so. I tell myself I will actually stay away from the blog for a full 24 hours. I think I’ve been telling myself that for the last week. The longest I’ve gone? About 4 hours, unless you include the times when I’m sleeping – but I do dream about checking it so does that count?

And when I’m not checking it, I’m thinking about it. I’m thinking about the next post and future posts beyond that. I’m thinking about where to get pictures for the posts. I’m thinking about how to get a more accurate counter so when I ‘check’ it I will know how many people have really been by.

My conversation now is littered with references to my blog and I think I say it with a little too much pride. Most the people I know in the real world aren’t blog readers, so their eyes glaze over and polite nods and fake smiles are issued at the mention. In my mind, I roll my eyes because ‘can you say blogosphere?’ Wake up people, this is the wave of the future.

Okay, okay, I’ll admit that before I started my own blog I wasn’t really that into the small press blogs. I did have a few favorites that I visited but generally they were the big blogs, the ones everyone knows. The ones that discuss politics and issues of the day and usually penned by people with some notariety. As well as the occasional message board devoted to a topic/person of interest. But never really the under-the-radar, mom and pop, independent type blogs. Now that I’m in the know ;), I find myself getting into them. It reminds me of sauntering down to the general store and sitting around the pickle barrel to chew the fat with the locals.

But I digress…I’ve been wondering lately. What would happen if I didn’t check my blog so often? Would people still come by? Would they still read and comment? Would the hits be about the same or dwindle? If I actually didn’t post for 24 hours or God forbid, 48 hours would I lose what tiny readership I have? Would they move on to the next neighborhood blog? Would somebody email me and inquire about my health or personal life? Would I find other things to talk about to my non-blogging friends?

Maybe I’d actually go see a movie or have dinner with a friend. Or even take my dog for a walk. I could possibly do my laundry as well. Or…I could finish the damned synopsis for my novel which I’ve been going out of my way to avoid. Yes, there are many things I could do instead of the constant, obsessive checking of the blog. Staring at the screen until my eyeballs bleed, trying to will the hits to increase. The constant pondering of what to say next. The ‘not now, I’m blogging’ response to intrusive phone calls when I’m debating which pic looks best.

I wonder what would happen if I just hung out a Gone Fishing sign for a little while. I wonder about all of this a lot. But…I guess I’m still in the obesso-bloggo stage, so I blog on.