OB Always Gets His Doritos

I do what I can to keep fit. I mean, don't get me wrong, I have plenty-o-fun too. But sometimes I get more than I bargained for. It's a goal of mine to be as healthy as possible when I finally do die (I need a decent viewing). So, I make time for fitness and try to eat healthy. In spite of my best intentions, OB (pronounced "Oh Bee") will always let me down. He can get me into more trouble than a phone call at 2 am from Big Willie. You see, OB's my primal me. He (or it) is like having an evil Siamese twin. We're bonded at the hippocampus. He doesn't have a voice, he doesn't understand English (or any language for that matter). He's my gift from evolution. He's the primitive crocodile styled inner brain thats truly in charge. If I vow to eat less, OB eats whatever the hell he wants. If I commit to get up at 4:30 and go for a run, OB turns off the alarm and sleeps in. If I swear off drinking beer, OB goes out and gets drunk. I can't shake the guy! He's bad! REALLY BAD! It's like I have 2 brains in my head but one is a troll brain. Granted, many out there have inner trolls much more damning than mine. None the less I've got issues. Here's the detailed graphic of OB's troll brain....

This is not a normal brain.

No matter how hard I try to resist OB, he over rules my intentions and misbehaves. Then, just when I am resigned to the fact I am destined to be a fat slob, ready to give up, OB stops doing what ever the hell he was doing and throws me a bone. He let's ME be in charge! Small victory. I've tried everything to get him to behave. Sometimes I sit down and give myself a 45 minute talk (usually nobody is around). I tell myself to be a little less self-indulgent. I talk to myself about what it is I need to do to stay focused on my goals. Oh yeah and I tell myself, above all other things, STOP TALKING TO YOURSELF!

I hope some of what I am saying is getting through to me!

Somewhere between the sacred and the profane is the Doritos; I don't know how they are made. After proper seasoning, when slowly baked, they can bridge that gap between heaven and earth. ARRRGGGH...I AM THE DORITOS!!!! (Where DID THAT COME FROM????)

I just looked down.....I'm holding the last of what WAS a full bag of Doritos. In my cool ranch encrusted fingers lies the last remnants of the bag, mostly crumbs. My arm is unconsciously hoisting the up-to-now unenjoyed wad to my mouth. A small pile of crumbs is on the floor. Where (the #$%^) did the rest of the bag go?!? Did Shev say to save her some? Where have I been?! OB, you suck!!!! I don't feel very good.

This is me and OB last night.

My wife Shev is the real exercise maniac. She managed some years ago to kill her inner troll off completely. (Almost out of beer OB lets ME finish the rest of this post) Guess that's why she enjoys having me around! In a strange way, love me or hate me....I'm HER OB!