Fuck The Master Cleanse

Okay, I lasted through two days of lemonade. And then I had two slices of pizza, which were the most delicious slices of pizza I've ever eaten. I quickly followed the pizza with (1) an egg and cheese omelette and two slices of buttered toast, (2) an acai smoothie, (3) ramen with broccoli. Yessssss.

I realized that I could no longer continue with the diet because just 8 hours of it made me completely useless at work--I thought of nothing else but food--and yesterday I attempted to work on my memo and ended up staring at Fed. R. Evid. 407 for half an hour without reading a word. Bad! Even a fantastic gay Filipino movie (The Blossoming of Maximo Oliveros, run don't walk to see it!) could not distract me from my hunger as I took guilty swigs of uncut Grade B maple syrup from the bottle during lulls in the action. Becca, a paragon of good lemonade diet, appeared to glow with health from her two days on the diet; she chastised me for "improvising" on the lemonade recipe--I'd replaced lemons with limes, Grade B maple syrup with Grade A, and eyeballed all the measurements because I didn't have a measuring cup--and said that's probably the reason my body was about to go into insulin shock/shutdown. Whatever, I said, the spirit of the lemonade diet was improvisation, since improvising on crazy is still just as crazy as the original crazy.

Anyway, point being, fuck that shit. I lasted about 48 hours. WEAK. I didn't feel "cleansed" though I certainly felt "constipated," and I look forward to a lifetime of unhealthy eating to return those sorely missed toxins to my digestive tract. Give me cholesterol and/or give me death, motherfuckers!

(Alas, I didn't see what my body would do if I chugged a quart of salt water. Perhaps this is an experiment for another day. Will blog updates as they occur.)