Can I save a few calories by chewing up a candy bar but not swallowing it?

In theory, yes. But you will be biologically unable to keep it up. According to Mary Roach’s Gulp (I recommend all Mary Roach books), you have to swallow in order for the process of eating to be satisfying. (The same goes for oral sex, too! ALL RIGHT HIGH FIVE THAT’S WHAT I’M TALKIN’ ‘BOUT, BROTHER.)


The whole point of eating is to take in the food to get energy, so your brain demands that you complete the ingestion before releasing all those sweet, sweet, chocolate-induced endorphins. If you spit your food out, you will only drive yourself mad by ratcheting up your cravings and making yourself hungrier. This is why bulimics vomit up food rather than spitting it out, even though the former is obviously far more traumatic on the body. You must complete the process of the Snickers bar to “eat” it.

I did one season of high school wrestling (I do NOT recommend it), and a couple of the kids used to cut weight by sitting in a hot shower, wearing a garbage bag, chewing up Starburst and spitting them out to drop water weight. Now, this is an extremely dangerous and potentially lethal thing to do. But more than that, imagine torturing yourself by going through a pack of Starburst and not eating a single one of them. You’d go crazy. Every potential shortcut around binge-eating out there is a lie, kiddos. You gotta exercise moderation, and you gotta swallow your food. There’s no other way.



If you were to poll players on the average NFL team about their record from the previous year (only asking players that were on the team during the last season, of course), what percentage would actually know off the top of their head? I think it would be around 50% (not many more than most of the starters and some backups).


I think they’re more apt to remember the exact record if they won more than ten games OR lost more than twelve. If you go 7-9, no one gives a shit, not even the head coach. It fades into memory. But if you go 13-3? I’m putting that on a shirt and going to the club with it on. And if you go 2-14, the team captains are gonna remind you about it all next season. “YOU BOYS WANNA GO 2-14 AGAIN?!”

So 50 percent sounds about right, and it’s perfectly understandable. Every goddamn week, these poor guys are drilled by their head coach to throw out their record. “Boys, we’re 0-0 as far as I’m concerned!” The next game is the only game. They aren’t SUPPOSED to be keeping track of wins, because god forbid they be distracted by big-picture issues for more than half a second.


I remember when I played high school and college ball, everyone on the team would be VERY cognizant of our win/loss record, especially if we were either undefeated or winless. First we would want to go undefeated. Then we would want to go 7-1. Then we would want to finish the season with a winning record. Then we would just be happy to settle for .500. Then we would want to at least win the LAST game of the season, just to end on some kind of high note. Then we would get down on our knees and cry and beg God not to let us go winless, because winless teams don’t get laid. That’s how the process works.

By the way, I sometimes referee elementary school soccer games (SO MUCH POWER), and we deliberately avoid keeping score, because everyone is supposed to have fun, etc. But the KIDS do. Holy shit, do they keep score. Eighty years from now, those kids will still be able to tell me who scored and what minute of play the goal occurred in. They aren’t interested in pleasantries. They want to KILL.



If you’re trapped in a public restroom, how long is it before you start drinking toilet water? Also, what’s the first thing you eat?


Can’t I use the sink? Or is the sink broken? Is it clean toilet water? I’m softer than a newborn fawn, so if the sink is out of order, I’m chugging clear toilet water within the first few hours. I can probably hold out a couple more hours if it’s yellow, and then a couple more if there’s a turd in there, and then indefinitely if it’s diarrhea. You can drink around a turd. With diarrhea, the water is poison. I’d have to lick the water from around the base of the toilet instead. Then I would go to eat the paper towels, only to discover that the bathroom uses an air dryer instead. CURSE YOU, AIR DRYER!


At what point is it not OK to have a roommate? My friend is 35, has a respectable income and a fairly reasonable mortgage with no bills besides utilities and student loans, yet his brother and another friend live with him. I say it’s ridiculous (and his previous girlfriend agrees with me since she just broke up with him over still living like a goddamn 22-year-old). I would totally understand if he were saving money and taking trips to tropical islands and driving a Ferrari but he drives a minivan and doesn’t do shit.


I think it’s possible that your friend doesn’t live alone because he doesn’t realize how NICE it is to live alone. That happens, you know. You get used to living in a dorm or an apartment with a bunch of other filthy guys, then you finally get a place of your own and that’s when the bolt of lightning hits. “My God, I can watch whatever I want! No one is gonna steal my food out of the fridge! I CAN MASTURBATE IN THE LIVING ROOM!” Sometimes you have to make the move in order to understand its implications.


I will say that if having a roommate is having an adverse effect on your friend’s other relationships, especially with women, that’s probably not a good thing. Once you hit your thirties, you need to grow up a little bit and live more like an adult. That means keeping the joint clean, and maybe even buying a plant. I’m not saying this is some kind of stupid Man Law. I’m just saying it’s a nicer way to live when there aren’t roach eggs growing in your cereal box.

Some people who just like having company around them all the time. People people. I don’t think there’s anything necessarily wrong with that, so long as you don’t stay a fucking slob forever. I used to live alone, and it was lovely. But now I live with four other people (wife + three kids), and I genuinely miss their company when I’m away. I am big co-dependent baby now. It ain’t right.



Do you think the amount of sodium listed on the nutrition facts for pretzels accounts for the amount of salt that gets lost off of the pretzels that will eventually get sifted down to the bottom of the bag and never get consumed (unless you’re a monster)?


Probably not. In general, you should assume that the nutrition label was rigged by BIG SODIUM in order to mask how truly awful your food is for you. If they can add more sugar and salt and carcinogenic red dye to your box of crackers, they will. I don’t think they even do it for flavor. I think their chemists just like to make friendly wagers about how much undetected arsenic they can add to your can of soup.


LeBron & Co. seemed to enjoy themselves after their NBA Championship. Which major league sport’s athletes party the hardest after winning a championship? MLB, MLS, NFL, NBA, NHL? Or is it some crazy cricket league in Turkey?


It’s gotta be some Brazilian soccer league. Brazilians party harder and better than the rest of us, so if you win anything of note there, I bet there’s a Carnivale staged around your penis for eight days and eight nights. Compared to other countries, our athletes are all honorary Mormons.

But if we’re just talking about North American sports, the answer is the NHL. Everyone alive wants to party with the Stanley Cup: players, coaches, executives, fans, politicians, policemen, celebrities, circus mules… everyone. The second you lay hands on that trophy, your life is a parade. Also, you spend nine months murdering your body in order to win the Stanley Cup, and you only have three days to enjoy the title before hockey training vamp starts all over again. So you gotta get your partying into a short window. No time to fuck around and read a book or anything.


Also, the length of your title celebration varies by city. Cleveland is gonna celebrate that title forever. The Saints are STILL celebrating that Super Bowl. If you’ve been thirsting for a title, you’re gonna make the most of it. It’s not like when Alabama wins a title. When Alabama wins a title, Nick Saban celebrates by making you run suicides.


After watching LeBron chase down poor Andre Iguodala for maybe the biggest block in league history (LeBlock?), the obvious question arose. Which sport’s athletes would most benefit from having eyes literally in the back of one’s head? Basketball? Soccer? Football with a downside of Leon Lett seeing Don Beebe and a silly looking rear face mask?


Pro wrestling! No more managers blindsiding you with foreign objects!

In all seriousness, if you had eyes in the back of your head and you were playing baseball, you could see the catcher’s signal, right? That seems useful. I would go with baseball first, and then football second, because it would be invaluable for a QB to see the pass rush coming from behind him, especially if that quarterback lacks any kind of pocket awareness (like RG3).


I don’t know if it’s useful, but I bet having eyes in the back of your head would be most satisfying if you ran track. If I’m near the finish line and I see a bunch of losers who are all ten yards behind me, that has to feel great. Or what if someone is closing in fast? I could stick my leg out and trip them. I bet that would feel amazing.

Email of the week!

The summer I turned 16, I started my first real job. My uncle’s family owned a plumbing/heating co. and I was hired basically as a know-nothing kid. In late August I was sent with a plumber and a laborer to check out an elementary school’s systems before school started. Mid-morning we crawled under the building beneath a sewer line draining a row of boy’s room toilets. I was handed a pipe wrench and was told to remove the plug at the end of the long sewer run. I did.

As I sat on the ground in the three feet of space below the pipe I was covered in three months of summer festering shit, piss, and maggots. When we all crawled back out into the sunlight I’m pretty sure Tom, the 40 year old laborer, cried when he saw me. I threw up. They found a hose and sprayed me down. They put me in the back of a pickup and drove me home. They left fast before my mother saw me. Worked there six summers through high school and college. They never gave me a “shit” job again. For some reason I’m proud to tell this story.


You oughta be.