Bryan Fraker's Blog
New Year’s Resolution = Exercise???

It’s the New Year!  Let’s get to our resolutions!

What is it?  Cutting out caffeine?  Pumping the brakes with alcohol?  Promising to always wear pants going to church (yeah!  Good luck with that one!…you can’t spell mass without ass!)  I’m betting yours is the same as everyone else’s…losing weight.

Everyone has used this resolution at one point in their adult lives.  No one has dieting as a resolution before college.  The only thing you knew about diet when you were 10 was that it was written on cans of pop that tasted like somebody farted in muddy water and put it in a can.

As soon as the Freshmen 15 gets put on 80% of people have resolutions to lose said 15.  The reasons for losing the weight differ from everyone, too.  People want to be healthier.  People want to look better towards the opposite sex in order to get, how the young people say, “laid”.  People want to become a better cross dresser so they won’t get last place again this year in the Beyonce look-a-like contest…I swear I they can do better if I they only get less love handles and if I they had 10% less chest hair and if I they invert my their penis like their turning a sock inside out and if………….scratch that last sentence.

Anyway I didn’t make a New Year’s Resolution this year.  That would just be adding on to the list of things I resolved to do with my life that I feel short on: bubble gum tester when I was five; cootie shot inventor when I was eight; becoming the 47th most popular Bryan in school when I was 13; statue in the girls’ locker room showers when I was 18; becoming the Surgeon General of the United States and saying that women shouldn’t have sex with men whose penis is > 4” or they’ll die when I was 23…a resolution would just make things worse.

I do want to start exercising though.  My body has seen better days.  Right now I get winded going up a flight of stairs.  When I turn the steering wheel my gut somehow puts the emergency brake on.  Every time I take of my shirt in public I get shot with a tranquilizer dart and put in the Columbus Zoo’s gorilla exhibit.  I used to be able bench press 225 lb. regularly…now I’d be lucky to bend down and put weight on the lifting bar without splitting my pants.

The problem with exercising is I have no time for it.  I work 40 hours a week and I’m busy doing something everyday of the week.  Monday is Lings and Wings night where I drink cheap Yeunglings and eat at least 15 cheap chicken wings.  Tuesday is Nap Day where I nap for three hours then rent a Redbox movie and overpay for Chinese food.  Wednesday is “Make fun of people for working out while gently petting my beer gut day and feel the cholesterol from the burrito I ate pulse through my heart” day.  Thursday is when I spend my time making sure the couch doesn’t float away by laying on it.  Friday and Saturday is when I make my social rounds with friends by drinking social rounds with friends.  And Sunday is when I make sure my bedsheets still keep me warm and I do my civic duty and make sure that various porn sites are up and running so other people don’t have to (you’re welcome, America!)………………where is time for exercise?

I’ve tried various ways to exercise, too, but with disastrous results.  I tried jogging on a treadmill at work last month, but I after 45 minutes I just couldn’t do it…I couldn’t tie my shoes symmetrically so I went home.  I tried P90X a few years ago and the first week went great…then I did half of what I was told to do (P45X)…then 1/3 (P30X)…then I looked at the disc (Peek-0X)…then I watched Jack Bauer and had Dominos while surfing the net (Pizza24XXX).

The furthest I got in exercising was my freshman year of college at Ohio University.  I got in decent shape, gained a lot of muscle and only had four restraining orders when I took my shirt off at the beach for spring break instead of the usual citation of indecent exposure for my man-cans.  However: I also watched five hours of ABC Family programming from 12-5 pm everyday, played Pokemon on my computer for weeks on end and got caught cranking one out by one of my roommates and speaking Strokenese (the language every guy speaks when he tries to talk after someone catches him self-medicating.  It’s a bunch of gibberish followed by a question that has nothing to do with anything: “AAAAAAAHHHHHHH…mmm…uh…ahem!…uh…so…how do you like pottery?”)  In other words…I was in shape physically, but not socially.

I still exercise now every so often.  I occasionally pick up some dumbbells and do a couple…I mean a lot…I mean SUPERDUPERAWESOMEI’MSEXYWANNADATEMENODON’TRUNAWAY…amount of weight.  I’ve jogged…I mean I’ve almost gone jogging…I mean I’ve thought about jogging…I mean I remember what a treadmill looks like (that’s the machine where you put a lap band around your waist and giggle the fat away, right?).

Here’s the bottom line: I’m going to get in a shape that doesn’t resemble 6’ of Flubber inside a skin suit.  I’m looking to drop a few pounds, look a bit thinner and to have digital scales start giving me a number when I weigh myself instead of “FAT”.  I know I can do it.  All I have to do is stop eating unhealthy foods…and cut out drinking alcohol…and exercise everyday…and stop watching so much TV…

I can make that my 2013 resolution.

One Hour Of Hell

One hour.

That’s 60 minutes.  3,600 seconds.  Two 30 minute TV shows.  Four quarters of football play.  59 1/2 minutes of crying after premature ej…what?

However you slice the pie it totals one hour; and later tonight, starting at 11 pm, will be the most harrowing, scary, pressure filled hour ever created by man since having to watch The Bachelor…finding a kiss at midnight.

Being a single man has its perks.  You don’t have to clean your room for anyone, your diet can consist of nothing remotely close to a vegetable and you can leave schoolgirlswhoneedspanked.com up without ridicule.  However midnight on New Year’s Eve is a positive because you don’t have to deal with the hour from Hell.

Now I’ve never had to disarm a bomb, but I have a general idea of what the pressure is like.  You have a limited amount of time as a timer keeps getting smaller and smaller while you have to put all your focus and energy into something bad happening…kinda like the NYE kiss.

The timeline for finding someone to kiss at midnight goes the same way year in and year out to every single male on the planet who isn’t a male model, loaded with cash or packing a small dog in his pants.  It all begins at 11:

11:00 pm…12/31/Year…at a party.  You’re having a great time at this party.  A lot of people have come out dressed in fantastic outfits (except for the one guy in a baby diaper with a hole cut out in the front for women to “shake his rattle”) and looking to start another year with a clean slate.  The alcohol is flowing, the conversation is engaging, but one thing is on your mind…a kiss at midnight.

11:15 pm.  A quick look around the room will help gauge the situation.  You can easily weed out the women in relationships, any parents if they’re there and anyone with a cold sore (EWWWWWWWWW!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!).  Once you spot some possible options you have to come up with a game plan.

11:20 pm.  Time to execute!  The first move for everyone on this night is to bump into someone at the food table: it’s an easy way to start up a convo, you get to unravel your awesome food pun (“Wow…this cheese isn’t just delicious…it’s Gouda!”) and you gain some insight into whether she’ll be open to a kiss.  Does she, in Beyonce’s words, have a ring on it?  Does she smile when making eye contact?  Does she have a set of lips?  This is what’s going on in your head and you think everything is going great…but in reality she hated your joke, doesn’t make eye contact whatsoever and was two seconds away from pepper spraying you until you looked away giving her a chance to sprint in the opposite direction.

11:25 pm.  Ok, so the first try didn’t go so well.  It’s ok.  The Wright brothers went through tons of prototypes before they achieved flight.  Actors routinely need to have multiple takes in order to get everything perfect.  Lingerie places went through all sorts of research and development to cut costs before inventing crotchless panties to save on material.  Just refocus and get in the game.  You can’t go back to the food table, but there is another place where you can drum up conversation…

11:30 pm.  The bathroom line!  Every girl there has to wait for something and would love to talk if not just to keep their mind off their full bladder.  You saunter over to the line and drum up a conversation with a good looking girl leaning against the wall.  She seems into you, but she’s not doing a lot of talking and is just bobbing her head up and down.  What’s wrong with this chick?  Doesn’t she know human interaction is a two way street?  It’s looks like she needs to…

11:34 pm.  And she vomits on you.  Guess that’s why she was in line.  Great.

11:37 pm.  You throw away the puke-infused shirt and root around in the nearest bedroom for a suitable replacement.  Unfortunately this party is at a female apartment so instead of finding a polo shirt that fits you you’re stuck with either a sundress or the oversized T-shirt she wears to bed that has a picture of a kitten wearing overalls.

11:40 pm.  With your new buddy Farm Kitty firmly planted on your chest you come to the realization that you aren’t going to find a girl to kiss and you’re stuck with another year of loneliness, eating whole frozen pizzas for breakfast and arguing with your credit card company that your subscription to Trailer Park Hussies should be for $15.99 and not $16.17.  There’s no point in trying to make an effort anymore.  You might as well just start throwing shots back and get drunk enough to make awkward comments involving Ryan Seacrest and what he likes to do with a roll of frozen cookie dough and a portly Asian man named Fukamana.

11:53 pm.  After downing seven shots with a man wearing a lampshade you decide something…this kiss can still happen!  You’re determined!  You’re confident!  You’re barely able to stand up!  It’s time to be the man no guy wants to be on New Year’s…Captain Desperation.

11:56 pm.  Captain Desperation is on the prowl.  He’s frantically running around the apartment making eye contact with every woman possible trying to find someone who doesn’t quickly look away in disgust so he can lock lips.  He’s using every line he can think of: “You’re pretty…wanna make out?”, “My lips are cold…can you warm them up with yours?”, “I lost my keys…can I search for them in your mouth with my tongue?”  As expected Captain Desperation strikes out once again.

11:59 pm.  The champagne is poured.  All eyes are on the TV for the ball drop…except for yours which are alternating between rolling in the back of your head and staring at the ass of a girl whose boyfriend is giving you the death stare.  The one goal you had for the night is out the window.

30 seconds to midnight.  It’s so simple!

25 seconds.  Just kiss a girl!

20 seconds.  You’ve done it eight times before!  You’re like a young Ron Jeremy with that many kisses.

15 seconds.  You’ve failed and you’re by yourself.

10 seconds.  It’s just you…

9.  And the dog…

8.  Who is a female…

7.  No!…

6.  You wouldn’t…

5.  But it’s for good luck…

4.  Their mouths are cleaner than ours…

3.  But it’s not a human…

2.  Better not do it…

1.  It’s not worth it…

12:00 am of the new year.  And now you know what Alpo tastes like.

Happy New Year everybody!