7/01/08
BANANAS & VASELINE

Since I’m SO far behind in my posts, I’m gonna keep this short, like Verne Troyer, who (and this is TRUE) is rumored to have a Paris Hilton-like sex tape coming out soon. The question is: Is he hung like a Lilliputian? Or is this Tom Thumb’s 11th finger of Shaq-sized proportions? One thing’s for sure, that dude definitely has a more active sex life than I do. But the two of us do share something in common: My nickname is Mini-Me as well. It’s a “belittling” sobriquet that women call me, usually after they see me with my pants off.

But that isn’t the crux of my coitus problems; it’s simply bad luck. Take for example two Fridays ago (when last I chronicled my training regimen). Since I had no date (payday was the following week, so I had no hooker money), I was going to leave straight from the office for a run. But I had to change, which meant I needed to be aware of Alexis. You see, I work in a MALE Room. No, I don’t mean the mailroom of some corporation. I mean that my office is virtually all DUDES. The lone woman is Irene, who is 86, and lost both of her eyes 43 years ago when she drunkenly fell on a meat fork during an Army-Navy football tailgating party. She’s a nice lady, but refuses to wear dark glasses—or glass eyes. Trust me, it’s freaky. I can see her brain. (At office parties, when Irene gets drunk, she sticks martini olives in her empty sockets.)

Anyway, a month ago, my dream came true: Lindsay Lohan’s little sister Ali announced that she would be starring in a new reality TV show, LIVING LOHAN, which would shatter the myths about her infamous family. But my other dream came true as well: A hot young chick named Alexis started working as the new secretary. I haven’t been this happy since I found out my Mom and Dad aren’t my real parents. (I was raised by wolves, and always had a lingering doubt about our biological connection. We don’t look ANYthing alike, I have much more body hair then them and my gestation period is a great deal longer.)

So I was hitting Ike Turner-hard on Alexis for the last four weeks, and I believe she was becoming responsive. She only pressed two sexual harassment charges against me (compared to Irene’s three). But, unfortunately, like the Mets last September, I think that I blew it. See, I do two embarrassing things to prep for my runs. One, I eat a banana, which provides me with a nice boost of energy, some complex carbohydrates and meets my phallic fruit requirement for the day. And two, I…uh, use Vaseline on my…uh…nipples.

Yes, go ahead, snicker, you bastards. Chortle at my expense. Scoff at my shame. But I tell you this, my friends: If you DON’T do that for long runs, a little thing called friction occurs, and then your nipples BLEED. I’ve seen dudes running where it looks like two ketchup packets exploded underneath their T-shirt. So, do you want to lactate blood, or do you want to suck it up and lube your teats? I ain’t no saphead. I grease up my mamilla like there’s no tomorrow.

So, it was quitting time on Friday. I had my trusty banana and Vaseline in my backpack, and I went to change into my running gear in the file room. (I refuse to use the men’s bathroom in my building. It’s worse than the water closet in TRAINSPOTTING.) I proceeded to strip down to my skivvies and broke out my petrolatum, and that’s when my banana falls out of my backpack (insert your own joke here)—and Alexis entered.

How does one explain to a hot chick you recently met why you’re half-naked in the file room with a jar of Vaseline and a banana? If you know, please tell me, because I was at a loss for words. It probably didn’t help that I was putting a condom on the banana, either.

So, basically, I blew my chance with Alexis, my day was ruined, and I decided not to run after all. But at least I was larded up and had a priapic fruit in my pocket. However, I was so depressed and worn out from a week of excess running and drinking that I crashed hard in the sleeping department over the weekend. I guess I needed more bananas. I could have used the energy. Just thank goodness I didn’t need more Vaseline.

JUNE 20-22 WEEKEND (FRIDAY to MONDAY morning)

RUNNING
5 miles
2 hours of basketball

DRINKING
6 Lagunitas IPAs (72 oz.)
1 Ommegang Abbey (22 oz)
4 Captain Lawrence Pale Ales (64 oz)
1 Oskar Blues Gordon Double IPA (12 oz)
2 Other Beers That I Can’t Friggin’ Remember (12 oz)

SLEEP
19 hours