Why Do They Call It a "Fast" When the Day Goes so Friggin Slow?

Today is Ash Wednesday. As I've moaned about previously, I've been considering taking some steps to improve myself. By starting the blog, I’m doing exactly the opposite.

Ash Wednesday, and its partner, Good Friday, are always the toughest days for me because of the fasting law, which requires (and I’m simplifying here) only one full meal, though you are allowed to eat two additional times as long as they don’t add up to one full meal. Beverages are allowed, as long as you don’t, as Catholic blogger Jimmy Akin notes, “drink can after can of low-carb protein shakes” to skirt around the law.

I’ve worked with people who celebrate Ramadan, and I admire their ability to endure their fast, which is a lot more hardcore than our two-days-a-year-and-you-can-still-eat-something exercise.

BECAUSE I AM A WIMP WITH NO WILLPOWER
I had just a half-serving of my usual breakfast — a homemade yogurt/berry/banana shake — and skipped the packet of oatmeal that I devour by around 10 o'clock. Here it is, lunchtime, and I feel like I'm on Day 25 of Survivor. (On the plus side, I was able to start a fire next to my computer using a napkin, a roll of Scotch tape, and the book of matches I took from my last trip to the Great Neck outpost of Peter Luger OH GOD THEIR BURGERS ARE SO DAMN GOOD WITH THE BACON THAT'S JUST ONE THICK PIECE BUT LIKE HEAVEN FROM A PIG I WANT ONE RIGHT NOW.)

I have some Lean Cuisine lurking in the company freezer (one of the smaller offerings, not those jumbo meals that are neither lean nor cuisine), but I think I can survive without lunch until I gorge on my "one meal," which will probably the smorgasbord that would make Henry VII blush. (If a fat bloated skeleton can blush.)

So, I went to the one lunchroom where you can get real coffee — I'm not much of a non-espresso java fan, so I almost never hit up the Keurig machine — and I had to see THIS:

A luscious donut the size of an iCarly fan's fist, singing its frosted siren song from the tray of discarded bagels. The stripes made it look like some kind of sugar-zebra, and I was feeling like the Alec Baldwin lion in Madagascar 3.

Normally I would pull a snatch-and-cram before anyone else walked in. The move would look sort of like this:

DIGRESSION
I would not look as awesome as Screaming Jay Hawkins does during his snatch-and-cram. Mentioning Screaming Jay Hawkins reminds me that I must develop an adjective-nickname that can be used in front of my first name. Jay "Screaming" Hawkins just doesn't work as well.

Two other guys with this kind of nickname:

• The boxer Marvelous Marvin Hagler actually had his name legally changed to Marvelous Marvin Hagler. Which made him big-M Marvelous, but I don't know if he was still small-m marvelous. I assume he was then nicknamed "Marvelous" Marvelous Marvin Hagler.
• Biz Markie's The Biz Never Sleeps introduces the Biz as "The Diabolical Biz Markie." He doesn't use that nickname much, which is a shame, even if he's not really diabolical at all — just misunderstood.

This reminds me of another digression that I'll spare you from until a later time. Anyway, where was I?

OH YEAH...AFTER THE SNATCH AND CRAM
I would then hide the bagels in my pockets and slink back to my cubicle in shame. Glorious frosted and carb-loaded shame.

HOWEVER, FATSO...
It's 2011, when I'm trying to cut down on unnecessary sweets; the start of Lent, when I'm trying to forgo all sweets altogether; and ASH WEDNESDAY WHEN I SHOULDN'T EVEN BE LOOKING AT THIS AT ALL.

So I just left it there on the tray. Sweet, sweet mini-donut...