Fat Child Eating

Not to alarm any of the Fat Man Running fans, but I have a revelation to make - I was a fat child. I know, it's shocking. Don't kick yourself for not realizing it earlier - it's easy to miss my self deprecating "humor" brought about by being a 230 lb 14 year old, as well as my current ability to chase a half marathon with a gallon and a half of ice cream. There are a handful of little clues, but you may have missed them if you're blind, have never spoken to me for more than 17 seconds or live in the state of denial that some of my relatives call "motherhood".
Luckily, my childhood is rife with stories of husky sweatpants, little league jerseys that must be mounted over a La-Z-Boy (aka - the "Shirt Stretcher") before they fit, or being thought to be of Asian descent due to excessive forehead fat hanging over your eyelids.

A perfect example of the joys of childhood obesity is the following gem that recently popped up to the delight of MiaManda:

It's 1992. Slick Willie is getting ready to enter the White House, the MLB Player's Union has yet to strike, and a waddling pile of blubber is breaking hearts and taking names while getting straight-As at Skowhegan Area Middle School. The day after receiving his perfect marks, Mrs. F, the social studies teacher, approaches yours truly about his report card.

Mrs. F: "Congrats on the great grades Chad! Did you get a reward from your parents?"
Chad (emitting a distinct smell of onions and obesity): "Yup! I got the best gift a growing boy could ever ask for!"
Mrs. F: "Really? Did your parents give you money? Take you to the movies? Maybe even take you to Walmart without putting you in the harness?"
Chad (glowing with memories of the previous night): "Nope. Even better! We went to Subway and they let me get 2 foot long meatball subs!!!"
Mrs. F: Stunned Silence
Chad: "That's right. Maybe the best gift I have ever had. I scarfed them down in about 2 minutes flat and even had some room left over for extra chips!"

Now, I'm not sure if Mrs. F contemplated calling child services, slapping the smirk off my face, or just crying for humanity, but I can only now understand her shocked silence that spoke volumes.

Weird Al Yankovic - Fat
Uploaded by GuyanaMike.

San Fran: After The Parade

As much fun as I had at the Pride parade, there is only so much over-the-top flamboyance I can tolerate before needing some down time. So in order to get away from grown men running around in spandex, slapping each other on the asses and swearing at every possible chance, I headed to Oakland Coliseum for some good, old-fashioned, heterosexual baseball.

It's often easy to forget that most stadiums don't require dropping $50 with a scalper for the cheap seats. While Fenway is great a couple times a season, it can quickly send you to the poor house. Luckily, Billy Beane has put a team together that rarely draws more than 25,000 fans. While the players must hate it, tourists like myself love the $48 seats that are less than 5 feet from the dugout, first base foul area and photographers.


I also had the added bonus of being able to see one of the more entertaining traditions of organized sports - hazing of the rookies. While I wasn't able to see anyone's face painted with permanent markers or an atomic wedgie, watching Matt Daley head to the bullpen wearing a pink backpack was entertaining enough for me.

To end the day, I followed the lead of nearly every other lard-ass of a tourist by gorging myself on sweets, burgers and entertainment. This town is definitely worth many more return appearances.

San Francisco is FAB-U-LOUS

In what is quickly becoming a periodic pilgrimage to escape the drudgery of every day life, I made my annual journey to the mean streets of the Bay Area for some sun, fun and baseball. Unlike past visits, I wasn't content with the tame combination of Charlie's Taqueria, a drive through Silicon Valley and some poorly played baseball. No, this escape had to be, shall we say, interesting.

With that requirement in mind, it was with great joy that I was able to bum a room from the ever hospitable duo of Dwight and Carol, grab a free plane ticket thanks to frequent flier miles and find a cheap rental car during San Fran's busiest weekend of the year. No, there were no wine festival, or a bunch of techies trekking to Cupertino. Instead, it was Pride weekend, and what a weekend it was.

(Now that you've clicked on the above link, please use this time to utter an oft used expression correctly for maybe the first time ever - "That is so gay...")

While I could ramble on about topless lesbians on Harleys that easily outweighed myself, small Asian men dressed as cupid, or people with breasts and an underwear bulge, I will just let the pictures do the talking...

One other note - It's great to know that even in this "difficult economic climate", there are still jobs to be had.

Turning Lemons Into Lemonade

Like many others that a court of law would consider sane (or at least competent to stand trial), I'm not a big fan of arguments. Unfortunately, any time you spend copious amounts of time with someone that is fun, nice and lets you see them naked, they occasionally arise. Now I'm not one to make light of a serious situation, but every now and then a comedic gem rolls off the tongue of MiaManda that really should be shared with the world.

While I'm 99% sure this is going to get me in some deep crap, I've enjoyed it too much not to share with my loyal stalkers. So without further ado, I present:

The List of Stuff Perceived To Be More Important Than My Girlfriend

• My job (not really)
• My car (it is pretty awesome)
• Golf with my family (depends on the course and which family members)
• My house (um, no)
• And last, but certainly not least...my gas grill (still on the fence about this one)

While she got the list pretty accurate, she neglected to mention the Red Sox, a visit to the Harp at least once a season and hummus. All in all, she knows her place pretty well though.

Fat Men Running

A great record has fallen. One that lasted nearly 2 years, was targeted by many (at least 3), but untouchable by all.

That's right, the Holmes family half marathon record has been surpassed. And not only did it fall, but it hit the ground like an Irishman trying to jump a fence on March 17th. So to my younger brother, congrats on a 1:44 showing (just under 8 min/mile) at the Fredericton Half Marathon. An 8 minute pace is impressive in any race, never mind one of such a distance.

In a congratulatory gesture, here is a photo of you skipping over the finish line like the little girl you are:

Hats off to Janine as well, who dominated the 10k in under 58 minutes. We can all agree that her finishing picture is much more masculine than the "man" with whom she lives in sin:

Of course, this blog would be nothing without a little self promotion, so here is a joyous me after a 1:56 (9min/mile) finish. Not bad for a fat man.

And finally, big props to MiaManda. Over 20 hours in a car with my family over 3 days and not one person was slapped, kicked or stabbed. This was possibly the greatest endurance feat of the weekend. I offer you this picture with the hottest man in the world as your award.

My Special Skill - Making Any Situation Awkward

I'll keep this short and sweet. I went for a great 7 mile run in Mine Falls Park on Sunday - and absolutely great spot for a sunny afternoon jog. While rocking out to semi-obscure Ben Folds songs (specifically "Rent-A-Cop"), I decided to screech along.

Luckily, at the very instance I was being passed by an unseen dude on a mountain bike, I puffed out one of the best lyrics ever written:

"Hey baby, baby light that ass on fire".

Yeah, he rode a little faster after he heard that.

Shorty Got Low

As anyone who has witnessed one of my outings at Harp knows, I have some pretty unique dance moves. My rug cutting skills are somewhere between football player and epileptic, so any demos of what I should be doing are greatly appreciated.

So it was with great joy that I came across this video on Barstool Sports the other day. This kid is just brilliant.



So to this child's parents - my hat is off to you. You might want to buy a little penicillin for when he gets older.