My itsy bitsy spider

Is it odd that I have a spider in my bathroom that I refuse to get rid of? He's been there for about 2 weeks and I've even named him. Frankie. I say good morning and good night to him every day. I ask him questions like, "Are you gonna spin any new webs today?" and "should I have oatmeal or an apple this morning?" The sad thing, is that sometimes I expect an answer back. Wow, getting older is making me wierder :)

On a side note I just got off the phone with the doctor. Yesterday I lifted a 5-year-old child and decided it would be fun to play "tickle torture". I forgot that from the lifted position, this child has legs that dangle down and were perfectly hanging near Bobby's scrotum area. Foot meet pills. I never wanted to commit child abuse so bad in my life. I'm still feeling it today. In fact, as I type this at my desk at work, I have a bag of ice down my pants. The doctor told me everything will be ok. Well, they don't feel too ok right now.

I'm really looking forward to this Memorial Day weekend. Have 3 BBQs and a 5 mile race planned through Boston. Good times. In preperation for the weekend of potential calorie and fat abuse, I've eaten very clean this week. I've even pre-planned to bring healthy food to 2 of the BBQs so that I can eat what I want at one of them. Preperation is the name of the game. As long as I keep my alcohol consumption in check I should be golden.

Well have a fantastic weekend everyone, my ice has turned to water and I'm in need of a change.

BK

The dog that keeps on ticking....

So here I am again, obsessing about my dog. Man, oh, man what a dog. This past weekend I took him on an experimental trip on a kayak onto the Charles River in Boston. Now I know whenever he gets excited or nervous a certain piece of nature comes-a-callin'. I obviously ignored this piece of knowledge. As the boat-helper-guy was holding the boat next to the dock so that I could load Jack and Bobby into the boat, sure enough, Jack took a rather lodge crap in the back of the boat. I felt a little embarrassed by this but what can you do? I scooped it up and moved on....

It was a great day on the kayak. Jack got used to it pretty quickly and really started to enjoy it. It really made my day to see him so happy. Thanks to my friend Bethanie for helping me with the paddling.



The next day after our little kayak adventure, I was rubbing Jack's ears (as I usually do) and at one point he yelled out this big doggy yelp. Every time I hear him make this noise, it reminds me of when he went paralyzed, it brings up some pretty crappy memories. So I looked onto his big, pointy right ear and he had some kind of lump on it that was causing him pain. During the course of the day, that ear began to be "not so pointy". It actually looked kinda cute as he would have one ear up and one ear down.

I brought Jack to the animal hospital the next day and they told me that this was common with dogs. They gave me some meds and told me that when it heals, it will probably stay in that downward position and look "crippled". At first I got a little emotional thinking about not being able to see my handsome boy look at me with those big pointy, expressive ears. But the more I thought about it, I thought it's just another testament to what a resilient dog he is. In his lifetime Jack has been homeless, paralyzed, no urinary or bowel control and now a stunted right ear. How many dogs do you know that have been though all this before their 7th birthday? The doctor told me that if I want I could have surgery done to the tune of $1,200 so that the ear sticks up again, but guess what... he doesn't care how he looks, so why should I? He's just happy to be alive, running in his wheelchair and spending time with his dad. Jack, I continue to love you for the spirit you have and the love you bring into my life. You never stop teaching me new life lessons.



And as always, Thank you God for the opportunity to care for such an amazing dog.

BK

Changing gears....

So I've been debating on whether or not this blog should have more of a "weightloss/motivation" feel or a "my life with Jack" feel.... or maybe it would be better to go with the combination platter (aka a little of both). I think for now I'm going to stick with the combo just to mix it up a bit... good? Good.

So now that I just wrote that, I'm of course now going to write about something that has nothing to do with either of those things. Haha... I'm such an ass. I've really been struggling lately with my own motivation and procrastination. To be honest, I've dealt with this my whole life with glimpses of brilliance mixed in. What do I mean by that? I mean I would never do ANYTHING ahead of time. Assignments for school, deadlines for work, and now writing this blog among a slew of other things. I really don't like this about me. The worst part about it is I'll spend an hour or 2 a night watching TV (baseball usually) instead of doing what I should be doing. It really pisses me off. I need to be more productive with my time. I really think I've reached my breaking point or if you will "hit my wall" with this (this will sound like a familiar term to my clients).

I am making a pledge right now to blog 2-3 times per week. I am also going to start filming nutrition tips and putting them on www.fit-tube.com. I've also been working with a writer friend of mine on a project about Jack. I'm going to start recording clips of him. I know all of this is in me (and a lot more), so now I just have to put it all into action. I wanted to lose 140 pounds, I did it. I wanted to care for a paralyzed dog, did that. Run a half marathon, done. Try my hand at vegetarianism, check. So now, for the good of me, all that I am and all I aspire to be I will continue to make more commitments that will ultimately reward my life. I want this. I will do it. I want to live to the max. I ask you all who read this to keep me accountable (thank you to my good friend Julie who does this already). Don't be afraid to say to me "Hey dipshit, where's your blogs?" Or "How's the video clips coming along?" I need that. My mind is out to screw me out of what I dream and deserve. Don't we all go through this in some way shape or form? Don't we think that we're not good enough? That we don't deserve the amazing things in life that God has in store for us? Screw that... I'm done with that noise.... OK, I'm off to buy a damn video camera and learn how to use it. As for you my friends, go do whatever it is you have been procrastinating on. Check it off your list. Live your life and for God's sake... be GREATER than GREAT!

Motivated and kickin' ass--
BK

Shouldn't "Diets" be called "Liveits"?

I always thought it was a bit ironic and a bit comical that the word DIET had the word DIE in it. But isn't it true? How many diets do you know of are built for a healthy lifestyle and lifelong health as opposed to the "quick fix" that we all tend to look for? Shouldn't we look to implement in our lives an eating and nutrition regimen that supports our lifestyle and can be carried with us through all of our years? But noooooooooooo. What do we do? We eat the way we were taught to eat (that would be with complete reckless abandon), then look for the "quick fix". It is time to change the way we think about "Dieting" and start "Liveiting" (again... making up words).

As humans we are so influenced by our upbringing as it pertains to eating. How do our parents eat? What ancestery do we come from? What foods are accessible in our house? We are "wired" from a young age to think a certain way about food and this is how our relationship with food is formed. Well guess what... it's time for a break up from that relationship. I know, I know. Breaking up is hard to do (if you know this 1950's diddy, please sing along). It definitely comes with it's pains. There is the initial "Not a problem, I can do this" phase (Let's call it phase #1). Followed by the "Oh my God, I miss him/her/it soooo much" phase (#2). Soon after comes the "I can't live without him/her/it"(#3) and then the eventual "I'm better off without him/her/it" phase (#4). When we take this diet journey though, we usually always get caught inbetween phase 2 and 3, which inevitabally leads us back to where we really don't want to be.

We've all been in those relationships that we just shouldn't be in. Unhealthy, toxic and just plain BAD. Even getting through those relationships we usually go through the aforementioned phases. Those relationships do not have a solid foundation and positive boundries to help mold a successful relationship. Isn't this the same with food? You bet your ass it is. Since we are "wired" to act/think a certain way with food, and since this way of being isn't working, aren't you ready for a change? Most people like to go about this life change in a gradual way. "I'll start off eating a healthier breakfast like Raisin Bran". OK, a couple things... FIRST OFF, Raisin Bran sucks. Secondly, going about it gradually sucks. If you're going to do it, GO ALL IN! "But Bobby, I don't work that way"... Yes you do... you just tell yourself you don't. If you start eating what you deem healthier in a gradual way, you will probably fail. Why? Because there are too many mental exits that exist. So you start off with your healthy breakfast. Then eat like ass for lunch and dinner and everything in between. You think you will have the momentum to go right back to eating a healthy breakfast the next day? And the day after that? And after that? C'mon... don't lie to me, or yourself... just not going to happen! MOMENTUM AND CONSISTENCY PEOPLE!!!

Make the choice today to change your eating habits. Clean out those cabinets and that box of shit you call a refridgerator. Buy and keep a large bottle of water with you all day, every second of the day. Hire a nutrition counselor to get support on what to eat/not eat and how to eat. SET YOURSELF UP FOR SUCCESS!

OK-- that's my rant for today... Live a great day!

Kickin' some ass--
Bobby K

P is for Paul, Pissed off and Priorities.

Paul, my oldest brother, and I are very close. Paul has always been very much my "protector" during my younger years. There are 10 years between us and he has and still does refer to me as "his baby" (even though I'm 32 years old). Paul has lived the rough life for the majority of his years. He's had his battle and trials, and his come out on the other end a better person.

Recently (as in Superbowl Sunday, 2010) Paul suffered a massive heartattack. I had just left Staten Island (my hometown) from a weekend hanging out with him and the family on my way back to Boston. That evening, when I heard the news, I turned around and drove right back. Upon arriving at the hospital in the cardiac unit I asked where I can find him, and they pointed me to the last room on the right. As I entered the room, I was a little rattled by seeing my older brother laid out on the bed with all the wires and tubes running their way in and out of his body. I had tried to prepare myself ahead of time for this, so I think I gave off the "calm vibe" when he saw me initially. That calm vibe was about to change.

As I sat there with him, talking with him and getting reports on how he felt, a hospital staffer brought in lunch. Now remember we are in the CARDIAC UNIT at a very well known and respected hospital in Staten Island. Upon lifting the lid of the lunch tray, my shit really hit the fan. FRIED CHICKEN? MACARONI AND CHEESE? WHATTTTT?!?!?! YOU HAVE GOT TO BE FUCKING KIDDING ME. I believe those were my exact words. I immediately grabbed the attending nurse and demanded to speak to the head nutritionist. She told me that the nutritionist would come down to speak to us (well, that never happened). I called my mother and asked her to make some grilled chicken, vegetables and quinoa to bring to my brother. I was heated to say the least.

Now let's put this into perspective, shall we. My brother, who is about 80 pounds overweight, just had not one, but 2 heart attacks (they later found out that the heart attack that landed him in the hospital was the second he had suffered in the last week) and just found out he had type 2 diabetes recieved the old Kernel Sanders special with a side of cheesy pasta? I mean, c'mon! I'm getting heated all over again just writing this damn blog entry. What is wrong with us people? Is there a question why our national healthcare is in the shitter and the obesity epidemic is running rampid when our "scholars" think Mac'n cheese and fried chicked is the best possible meal for my brother in this condition. This transcends the word stupid. In fact I'm going to make up a new word right now to exhibit how idiotic this is. Dumbestshitever. There it is. OK, enough of my rant.

So what I was getting at in this whole blog entry is that for YEARS I have been asking, begging and pleading with my brother to eat better, quit smoking (even though in the past I had been known to have a smoke here and there on my trips back to the Island of Staten), and live healthier. I had pleaded with my parents to PLEASE start cooking better for themselves and the family. The annoying thing is that when I travel back to NY for a weekend trip, Roberta (my mom) will go all out and cook healthy for her baby (that would be me). Quinoa, Tempeh, Millet, Tofu, Vegetables galore. I mean some seriously awesome, healthy and DELICIOUS shit here people. Then when I leave to go back to Boston, she goes right back to cooking the crap. WHAT?!?!?! You know better! I definitely get worked up when I talk to her and could probably be more diplomatic in my approach, but this is what happens when passion and desire overspill. I'm sure you know what this is like. We've all been there in one way or another. It's like having a child and telling them not to touch the hot stove, because it will hurt them, but you know how this story ends. The difference with this analogy and my crusade to have my family eat better is that if they ignore the warnings and continue to "touch the stove", they will only know the repercussions of their choices when it is too late when they have some disease or body malfunction.

It annoys me so much that as a society we are all so programmed to be REACTIVE as opposed to PROACTIVE. Let's fix the problem before it starts instead of keep doing stupid shit. We look back and say "oh yeah, that probably wasn't a good choice", and then deal with the consequences (ie-pain, medication, death). My brother Paul, only now, has changed his eating habits and quit smoking because of the threat of death. He now comes to me for health and exercise advice, as it is now I who feels like the protector of my older brother in some sort of way.

Does death have to knock on your door to get your attention? You may say, "That won't happen to me, I'm young, have good genetics, appear to be thin, yada frickin yada".... it's not gonna save your health people. BE PROACTIVE! Change your eating habits now! Go to a health food store or farmers market. Learn to read ingredients. Put positive foods into your body. Will it possibly cost more? Probably. But if you're going to invest in ANYTHING, shouldn't this be it? It's your health we're talking about! Make it your priority. Get on board and do this! It'll be the best thing you can do... this comes with a guarantee!

All fired up and kicking ass,
BK (That would not stand for Burger King)

Jack, the amazing handi-dog

Every morning my day starts off the same way. Wake up. Pee. Go fill up a water dish with room temperature water, and place it on 2 stacked softball bases that lay on my living room floor. I then make me way back to my bedroom to wake up my best friend. As I enter the room, I usually serenade him with his "wake up song" so that he knows it's going to be time to get his ass out of bed. It goes something like this (in a very groggy, "i just woke up" and off tune voice) "Good morning, good morning, good morning my Jackie boy, Good monring, good morning, Good morning to you!" I then lay on the edge of my bed, give him a good belly rub and scratch behind the ears. I then whisper in his ear "are you ready to go pee?". Jack makes his best effort to stand on his 2 front paws. Once he is on an upright position, I grab his torso and scoop up his 65 pound frame in one full motion. Right hand under the sternum, left hand supporting the butt area. I then stagger to the back door, quickly slip on my flip-flops (lifting 65 uneven pounds while keeping your balance first thing in the morning is NOT an easy task) and make my way out the back door. Once outside, I gently place my buddy on the ground. He always, without fail, makes an attempt to smell the grass around him. I have to remind him that it is "pee time" and to stay still. He listens. I then lift his hind quarters, feel around for the small balloon above his genital region (a.k.a. his bladder) and squeeze it with my ring, middle and pointer fingers of both hands. The tricky part of this is directing the urine that shoots out with reckless abandon. On good days, I'm able to point his "member" where I want the urine to go and zippity do, I'm done. It's that easy almost never. What USUALLY happens is, I grab his bladder squeeze and just hope for the best. The result is Jack and I getting both of our feet soaked in urine. Yes people, I know... gross... but true. The piss comes out like a sputtering sprinkler system to which I have no control. Oh well... so it goes....

So who is Jack? At this point you should be assuming he is my dog (the only other choice may be a very underweight grandparent with poor bladder control and a taste for belly rubs, to which you would be incorrect). About 2 1/2 years ago Jack (a pit/terrier mix, at least that's what I think he is because I adopted him) slipped a disk in his back and went paralyzed in his hind legs. $10,000 and a major surgery later, I was left with this handsome and sweet handicapped dog. Life has changed pretty dramatically since that all went down on December 28th, 2007. Not only because of the aforementioned morning routine, but just how I live, what I do, and where my priorities are. But til this day, I maintain that that was the BEST investment I have ever made. The love, joy, and happiness that I get in return every day makes that financial, time and love commitment sooooo worth it.

Jack is usually at home laying on one of his huge twin size beds that lay in my livingroom floor. If he has somewhere to go, well... he goes. He'll just drag his hind quarters from here to there and from there to here. The real fun starts when he is dragging and crapping at the same time. I have Jack on a pretty good "crap schedule" so that I know when the goods are coming. But every now and then, especially when he gets excited, he'll do the old drag and crap. This usually results in a crap smeared floor and a crap smeared dog. And like I said before... so it goes...

One of the biggest joys of my life is when the weather turns nice, and I can put the Jacker in his fancy Doggy wheelchair. He loves being outside. He's not much of a mingler, as he likes just sniffing anything and everything that he deems interesting. Sometimes he'll get in such a deep "sniffing zone", that he won't be paying attention to where I am. I usually take this opportunity to hide behind a tree (It's probably a good thing I didn't have any younger siblings). Once he lifts his head to notice I'm nowhere to be found, he goes into complete panic mode. He'll start darting his head all over and whining. At this time, I usually jump out from behind the tree screaming "Jackson!" The best part is when he sees me, he'll tilt his head skyward and run towards me as if he hasn't seen me in years. Holy shit, I love this dog.

It's amazing what a man can learn from his dog. Jack was a great dog before his injury. He was fast, obedient, loving, playful, gentle and patient. Since the injury, none of these things have changed and you will never hear a complaint. You will never hear a depressed whine or question his will to live. It was just "OK, yesterday I had hind legs to use, and now... not so much... that's cool, let's roll with it (pun not intended, but kinda is).... Why can't we be like this? Why can't people, for the benefit of their life and well-being, look at things optimistically when life throws them that inevitable curveball? We whine, bitch, complain and make every excuse to why we can't do things. We ARE capable of making this point-of-view switch, but something holds us back. Why can't we just flip that switch and do what is better for ourselves, out family and our life? We CAN, it just takes some readjustment of perspective and a renewed commitment to re-wiring our brain on how we look at things. I am continually on this journey to shift my perspective, and I've learned so much of this from one simple, handsome dog. Thank you Jack for teaching my how to "roll" with things better and thank you God for the experience.

Types of woody....

I forgot to mention in my last post, I thought it was pretty awesome that my buddy Joe (the groom in the aforementioned wedding) decided not to use numbers as a way of assigning tables to his guests. Joe, being a bit of a handy man, decided to use the names of types of wood. There was the Oak table. The Cedar table. The Maple table. But he decided to put his college friends at the most precious type of wood known to man. Morning. I can't make this stuff up. :)

One wedding, some drool and a memory....

What a weekend. My friends Joe and Katie tied the knot and it was one of the better weddings I've been to. The large majority of my college friends were in attendance and good time were running rampid. It's always a good time when this certain collection of college friends get together. We are, by in large, a collection of blowhard idiots and dancing fools (i mean that in the most affectionate way, of course). I haven't sweated (is sweated a word?) like that since the NYC 1/2 marathon. I mean, talk about dancing as if noone was watching. Actually, it probably isn't dancing at all. When all of your limbs move spastically in different directions while you jump around in some sort of tribal ritual dance, is that really dancing? Never the less... it was awesome.

I stuck to my drink of choice, which is JD and gingerale. I'm not a big drinker, but when I do... it's with purpose. Woke up with a bit of a headache and upon checking my cell phone it appears I texted some 30 people simply to tell them I love them them and that I was drinking. I'm sure they were happy to hear that at 2 a.m. Sunday morning.

I feel like with my drinking, I didn't eat as much as i usually would when I "let myself go" for the occasional weekend(as in I made up for my lack of food calories with that of the alcohol kind). I had a little Brie with olives, I ate the fish with greenbeans (didn't eat the potatoes) and skipped the cake. The one thing I did do was eat my weight in eggs at the breakfast buffet. Man, do I love a good breakfast buffet. It is the equivalent of take a heroine addict to a drug den, supplying the needle and telling him/her to "behave". I did, in fact stick to just eggs, to which I am happy about (needless to say it was 2 pretty nice servings of the stuff). Skipped the French toast, bacon, sausage and all the other deliciousness. Just eggs. Ran through me like a hot knife through butter. TMI? Probably... Moving on.....

So the highlight (or lowlight if you ask me) of the early wedding day was at the actual service at the church. While Joe and Katie were exchanging their vows, an odd sound emerged that sounded like a cat in agony. It was a really odd sound. As I turned around to my friend Chris in the pew behind me, I said to him, "Who brought the ca---"? I meant to say, "Who brought the cat?", but at that perfectly timed moment a small... no, no.... a large strand of drool decided it would be a great time to jump out of my mouth down the lapel of my suit and onto the pew in which I sat.
As I looked down and saw my little "escapee", I had hoped that noone took notice. No such luck. As I looked up at the 3 rows behind me filled with my college buddies and some of the groom's family/friends, the red faces and trembling floor due to mass quieted hysteria laughter told me I had been caught. Embarassing moments are God's way of keeping you humble. Thank you God. I'm sure my friends will not let me forget this glorious moment anytime soon.

This morning, I started reading an article in BOSTON magazine about kids and obesity. In the beginning of the article the author talks about his own weight issues as a kid, and referenced the dreaded "Shirts and Skins". Wow, I had not thought about that since highschool. Upon reading this I immediatelty felt uneasy and could feel me heart beating a little harder. Talk about hitting a nerve. If you don't know what shirts and skins are, it is when you are playing a sport (Basketball, football, etc) and the way of differentiating who is on what team, one team will get to wear their shirts, and the other will have to be "skins" or shirtless. I sooo hated being on the skins team. I remember suddenly coming down with a "sudden case of something" on a few occasions if I had to go skins. The majority of my friends were lean, athletic kids. Bobby was sporting skin folds, man boobs and so many stretch marks my stomach looked like an Oklahoma backroad map. No bueno. Man oh man...did I hate Skins. The only thing worse was going to the beach. :)

OK, that's my shpeel for today... have a great day... Kick some ass and live healthy!
BK