As my rather impressive lack of athletic achievement will attest, sports are not generally in my wheelhouse. In fact, they usually are so far from my wheelhouse that most sports have to dial a special prefix to get in touch with me. However, there have been a few exceptions in my life, all of which revolve around the Seattle Seahawks. I won’t get spend your valuable time relaying my thoughts on the game, except for saying that any Denver fans have my sympathies. And my cackling schadenfreude. But mostly my sympathies.
Not really. Hee hee…
Think of this less as an image and more of a metaphor for the ENTIRE GAME.
Anyway, to my point: I had a Super Bowl party. And as much as this semi-religious American tradition is about concussion-bound men colliding with each other in between long spans of beer ads and the latest visual war crime from GoDaddy, it’s also about food. Traditionally, the kind of food that makes the rest of the world wonder if our nation has signed a universal suicide pact.
We did our best at the party to avoid such pitfalls, while still including snacks those of us not on the Cholesterol Train to Cardiac Arrestville (what do you want, people, these jokes can’t all be gold). Vegetable trays, grilled wings instead of fried, diced turkey sausage and mustard, that kind of thing. But there will be far too many situations where you will find yourself at a gathering that finds fat, salt and sugar piled up like some offering to a wheezing, chubby god. As such, I’ve complied a list of techniques you can use to maintain your discipline during these trying times.
The Grim Reaper
This technique dates back to the middle ages, where in a desperate attempt to avoid eating his mother-in-law’s tortellini, the Duke of Edinburgh released the Black Death on Europe and made a hasty getaway through a window while the whole mass death thing kept everyone’s attention. Now, I’m not saying releasing a dangerous pathogen in the middle of your college roommate’s March Madness party is appropriate, but if he’s got 7-layer dip, it might be time to make with the Ebola.
Icarus Coming To Dinner
Walk into the room, look over the spread of cheese, grease, and cheesy grease, and nod thoughtfully. Lock eyes with your guest, and without breaking your gaze, douse the entire buffet table in lighter fluid and flick your Zippo. It’s very important that you don’t break eye contact while doing this. If you’re staring wildly around, you’re just a batshit insane arsonist. If you’re holding his gaze, you’re a batshit insane arsonist with just heaps of style.
The Performance Artist
The instant you see the platter of 500 deep-fried wings with a side of mozzarella sticks, strip naked, leap onto the pile, and roll around while howling, “FREE TIBET!!” at the top of your lungs. Lunatic, or political activist looking for any way he/she can to start a dialogue? Think about it, people. (Warning: Please check the spice level on the wings before attempting the performance artist. If the words “ghost chili” or “Devil’s Bane” occur anywhere in the description, you may be shifting to a different performance piece entitled “The Flaming Jackass”.)
The Plague of Locusts
Invite two new friends to the gathering, specifically competitive eaters Tim Janus and Takeru Kobayashi. They will descend upon the offerings like a biblical plague, and in less time than it says to say, “Holy shit, did that dude just eat a six-foot-sub without chewing?!”, your house will have so little food that you may need to duck to avoid the flying sacks of rice from international aid organizations.
Okay, actually, it’s just as easy as telling your friends at the gathering that you’re trying to get a bit more healthy, and, if they’re good friends, they’ll smile and smack a chicken nugget out of your hand to defend your ketosis. In fact, if you let them know beforehand what your dietary restrictions are, it’s a pretty rare friend that won’t have a few tasty and healthy options for you to nosh on. The people that love you and care about you will back you up, and you’ll be surprised the lengths they will go to to support you.
And if that doesn’t work, just contract Dikembe Mutombo to follow you around.
All night long, baby. ALL NIGHT LONG!
