I’m waiting for the Yankees to lose. As long as it takes, Yankees, as long as it takes.
Reaching for a healthy yet satisfying late-night treat (yes, I’m reading this off an index card), I go for a banana.
But before eating it, I enter it into My Fitness Nazi for approval.
Sadly, I type “baba” rather than “bana” as I begin to type in banana. MFN intuitively signs me up for an order of Baba Ganoush.
I am a simple farm boy. I have no idea what Baba Ganoush is. I always suspected he was a Cuban conga player, but given MFN’s strict policy against cannibalism, I assume it must be a legitimate food. Probably rife with curry or spicy mustard or onions or squirrel droppings. Damn squirrels.
Thus my dilemma. It’s already entered in my food log, so I must eat it. But I have none to eat, and as Mo knows all too well (bless her heart), I would never eat a food I haven’t eaten before anyhow. If I haven’t come across it in 56 years, chances are I’m avoiding it.
I really want a banana. But MFN says no banana for you. Baba Ganoush.
I strike a compromise. I’m going to eat the banana while listening to the Who’s “Baba O’Reilly.” Even though it’s British and probably tastes funny.
Nutrition can be tricky if you don’t type carefully. Won’t get fooled again …