This post is about oil changes, which promote long engine life and maximum gas mileage. Are you aware that you can use a baseball to perform an oil change? It’s true, you just… okay are the girls gone? Good. This ones just for you, guys.

Now, listen up. We all know the girls are going to try to hit us with the same old April Fools “I’m Pregnant! LOL” act that they think is so damned funny, but this year we’re going to strike first. I’m going to detail some select methods. Choose the one which fits your situation best, or modify any of them as needed.

Before we get started, realize that the point here is not to convince her that you are medically pregnant. I’m not a doctor, but I don’t think that’s going to work. No, the point is just to pre-empt her attack and save yourself that nagging feeling that she might be.

Hey, you’re too young for your dreams to be dead. Right? Right. Read on.

Method One: By Phone

This can be as simple as just calling her up and saying “Hey listen baby, just stopped by the Doc’s office. He says there’s nothing to worry about just yet, but they’re running a few more tests and, well, it looks like we might be pregnant!”

This must be delivered somewhere between absolutely deadpan and giddy as a schoolgirl.

Do not let her ask too many questions. Girls know a lot of subtle mind tricks, so don’t give her an opportunity to hem you in. Just say the above, and then get off the phone.

Remember, the point is to deflate her attack by striking first, not to convince her that a baby is somehow going to emerge from your body. Again, I am not a trained physician but that cannot happen to you, even if you tell your girl it can.

Method Two: In Person

Here again, we want to strike with surgical precision. Get in, deliver the information payload, and then get the hell out. Tell her you need to talk, sit her down, tell her you’re pregnant, and then leave the area as fast as possible.

Here’s a tip: end the conversation, distract her, and create an escape for yourself all at once by turning on Journey’s Don’t Stop Believing at top volume. Girls cannot resist this song and you’ll be able to run out while she’s raising her arms up and going “WOO!”

You also may wish to employ the Chinese Shirt Roll to emphasize visually that you are with child. Let me again stress that rolling your shirt up this way and claiming to be with child will not actually make you pregnant. It is a medical impossibility, and I don’t care what you’ve learned from Schwarzenegger movies.

Conclusion: Strike First, Strike Hard, Poke Out Your Gut

These are just some suggestions, so feel free to interpret them or tailor them for your own situation. If you come up with any good ideas beyond this, please share them with me.

Good luck out there, men. Stay strong, and remember, there is no way that you, as a dude, can become pregnant.

Yes, I am a nerd, and I like playing video games. Lately, though, I’ve been thinking about the time investment. Should I really spend hours on an awesome Minecraft house or WOW character? Isn’t that time better spent on being a really awesome dude in real life?

I don’t mean to be melodramatic, but do I really want to be thinking as my last breath rushes from my lips: Well, this is it, but at least I made level 85 last night?

Minecraft is the same way. There’s always another idea to add to your house, or some other reason to go out and punch a sheep in the face. I do love that part, though. Those sheep always look so surprised when you belt them one. Gimme that wool, sucka!

Still, I can’t help thinking that I’d be a more enriched human if I spent those sheep-punching moments reading, or working on a book of my own, or… something. Right?

Works of Art

On the other hand, is spending a significant amount of time working on a Minecraft creation really any different than lying on one’s back and painting a symbolism-laden work of art on the ceiling of the Sistine Chapel? Mind you, I don’t mean to suggest that everyone who punches a sheep in the face is Michelangelo, but what is art if not the considered application of a set of materials?

Who am I — indeed, who are any of us — to say what those materials have to be?

I think that if Michelangelo were alive today, he might very well come up with something along these lines:

Finding your Nietszche

When I look at that, my first impulse is to contact the guy who put that together and invite him to come out into the sunshine. “Hey, buddy,” I would say to him, “How about we walk around in the sunlight a bit… maybe talk to a girl?”

What if someone had had that conversation with Nietzsche, though? He might have agreed, met a sturdy German lass, fallen in love, and never pronounced God dead. He might have shaved off that terrible mustache of his and lived a happier life, but we might be without certain Elton John lyrics, without the greatest movie opening of all time, and without a significant portion of the DVD commentary from Fight Club.

That last one’s a deep cut, I know, but trust me… Ed Norton has a lot to say about Nietzsche. Pitt just wants to laugh about the sex scenes.

Keeping Perspective

I don’t have all the answers here, but I’m trying to live a life that converges upon the things that I think are sweet. I want to write things that others find helpful, or interesting, or funny. I want to kiss a pretty woman on the face. I want to travel and ride bikes and sing songs. I don’t think that spending an hour a day in Minecraft or WOW is really going to get me any closer to those things.

I think that I can only make these judgements for myself, though, and I’m definitely not going to forsake video games entirely. I mean, come on… how could I? Portal 2 is coming out soon!

One of my favorite things about writing a blog is the responses I get when people choose to respond. I’ve gotten a comment this week, however, that simply broke my heart.

Here is the text of TAE’s comment, from this post about A&E’s show “Heavy”:

Hello I’m almost 14 and I’m about 300 pounds it’s not fun being one of the biggest in your p.e class or now being able to wear the cool tees shirts. I wish that I could get on this show because I can’t afford weight loss summer camps. I just want to be about half the size I am because I’m 5 foot 5-6 inches and that’s around the right size I need to be. I have tried weight watchers 4 times it don’t work after the first time. My doctor said I’m to young for wright loss pills so I’m down to going to a fat camp but cant afford it. I would love to look like a normal teenager but it’s hard to loss the weight I need to get away to a place where they will push me into loading weight.

My friend Colleen, writer of her own blog, Modern Crunch, asked me if I was going to try to respond. I said I wasn’t about to attempt to reason with a 13 year old kid about anything, let alone mental game, fitness, or philosophy. The only problem is that I can’t really get TAE’s remarks out of my head.

There were also some great responses to TAE from Chris and Gob, as you can see from the comment thread. Both those guys hit the nail on the head, but I’m still shaken up.

So, I’m just going to write out my thoughts and hopefully feel a little better, and if someone happens to read this and find it interesting or helpful, that would be nice.

The Fat Kid: Me

Dear TAE,

As you might have noticed at the top of this web site, I was once over 300lbs. I was always the fat kid in school. My clothes always fit funny, and I was always self conscious about it. I know what you mean when you talk about not getting to wear the cool shirts. I’m the lightest I have been since I was close to your age, I’d imagine, and I’m still battling my love handles. I wear my pants super low just so I don’t accentuate said love handles.

Are you familiar with the idea of muffin tops? Well, I have cake tops. Some people call them “mom hips.” They’re a problem, believe me.

People have always called me Big Jim, and I have always hated it. I don’t think they did it to be rude, per se. After all, at 6’1″ 310lbs, I was pretty damned big! I still wanted to punch them for it, though, truth be told. I don’t go around calling people “Fake Eyebrows Jeanine” or “Self Absorbed Cheryl” do I? No, I do not.

My point is I know how isolating it feels to be big. I know how helpless it feels, and I know that being full feels good when everything else feels bad.

I hate to tell you this, my man, but its going to get worse.

Next Stop: Romance

You’re 13 years old, going on 14, so that means you have recently started to think about girls (or boys, if that’s your thing) in some new and complicated ways. Your schoolmates are experiencing the same thing. Whatever your preference, you’re about to start interacting with your peers with the addition of a new romantic component, and that means that whatever teasing you are currently enduring, if any, is about to go from jet power to afterburner. Kids are cruel, but young adults are ruthless.

You probably already have some mechanisms in place to deal with this. In my case, I was the hilarious super-friendly fat guy. It works to keep the heat off you, but it works at a cost to your own happiness. Don’t put your self in a position where your last thoughts every night are things like:

• Why do I try so hard for nothing?
• What’s wrong with me?

Those negative mantras do permanent damage.

Now, you probably have a lot better game than I do. People probably love you. Trust me when I tell you, though, that life is much, much easier on the romantic level when you are fitter and slimmer. Trying to go through your dating life on the fat side will be highly problematic and pretty hurtful. If your experience is anything like mine, you’ll get friend zoned a lot.

People will tell you things like “there are a lot of fish in the sea,” and that famous chestnut “Just relax and be yourself!” but the truth is that being more attractive physically simply attracts more people. Don’t get me wrong, though. What’s on the inside does count. It’s just that you usually don’t get a chance for it to count if your outside needs work.

You have got to lose the weight, buddy.

How to do it

I’m not a dietician or a physical trainer. I’m certainly not a doctor. That said, in my opinion, I don’t think that getting onto a reality show is the answer. You have to do this yourself, because even if you get on the show, you’re still going to be you when all the lights are packed up and the cameras are off.

You have to think long and hard about the kind of life you want to live, make some firm choices about yourself, and then change your mind about how you eat. At your age you are man enough to make these kinds of decisions for yourself. I don’t know what kind of relationship you have with your parents or your school teachers, but I bet if you ask around you can find someone who will help.

In short, you have to change your mind, not your situation.

Fat is not who we are, it’s just a type of cell that is under our skins. It does not have a will, but you and I do. It cannot adapt, but we can.

The good news, from my perspective, is that you’re already asking questions and looking for answers. You just have to stay on track, keep asking and keep trying.

I know it sounds dumb but you have to believe in yourself. Sometimes your heart hurts, and it only makes it feel worse if your stomach is empty as well, but the small comfort of being full right now only means more heartbreak and misery later. Trust me on that one.

Good luck, buddy. You can do it.

I’m praying that my two regular readers noticed that I didn’t post any last week, but as one of them is actually the Google indexing bot, I don’t think it counts.

Let’s just say that there was a misunderstanding on my part about the lack of WiFi that would be available to me while at South By South West.

Actually, I misunderstood that I wasn’t actually going to SXSW, I was just going close by Southwest. I should have enough experience with show promoters and band management by now to be able to spot this sort of thing, but I blew it.

Short Stories: the Sleep Aid

The good news is that I got a sweet short story out of the deal. A lot of strange things happened to me last week, actually, but those tales will have to wait for the release of the book of short stories I am working on. If you like to read about musicians, crockery, ballet dancers, Cheryl, or hunting rodents with silverware, you’re in luck, my friends.

I hope to have that project ready by mid summer, but first I have a serious business marketing guide to finish. It is serious and made for business.

Georgia Rides to the Capitol

In more recent news, I just got home from Georgia Rides to the Capitol, the cycling activism event that I made some noise about not too long ago.

I don’t know if my efforts helped boost attendance or not, honestly, but I don’t think so.

I ended up having some really cool conversations with some of Atlanta’s cycling statesmen and -women, which is very positive, but most of those conversations tended to center around Critical Mass much more than Georgia Rides to the Capitol, which was not my intention. That’s how it goes, though, I guess.

At least I got in a nice ride in the sunshine with my friends. What more can a person ask for?

People call Kilimanjaro the roof of Africa, but that doesn’t make a lot of sense to me. It’s more like Africa’s single prodigious boob.

I defy anyone to look at this aerial photo and tell me that doesn’t look like a giant sweater puppy.

It’s been six months since I got back and I have to say that it was among the greatest experiences of my life. I cannot urge you strongly enough to go and climb Kilimanjaro yourself and then do a safari day or two. I’m going to quickly go over the trip’s finer points. Everything that I am about to say happened exactly as I describe it.

If you don’t believe me, you don’t deserve boobs. If you don’t know what that means, neither do I. Figure it out.

Zebra Fight

Ever seen zebras fight? I have, and it’s awesome. They lock their mighty necks together cheek to cheek and ear to ear, and then bare their teeth and scream and snort, all the while charging and ramming one another, kicking up a huge plume of dust.

Now that I think about it it was a lot like some of my more awkward makeout sessions, but whatever. I got better at it. Rarely ever does Cheryl get whiplash anymore. Point is that zebras are majestic stacks of wild testosterone and they are aggressive and physical sometimes, just like me. Deal with it.

The Shira Plateau will blow your mind

I’m telling you that this place will cause your mouth to open. You will be incapable of higher thought. Your pants will most likely fall down and even your buttcheeks will be amazed. That’s how awesome the Shira plateau is, and the best part is you get to enjoy it for three days if you do the Lemosho route.

In all honesty, there has never been a landscape that completely broke my heart because it was so beautiful until I laid eyes on the Shira plateau. I will never forget it.

Baboons do whatever they want

And I do mean whatever they want. Running around in traffic? No problem. Doing sex on a branch in full view of passersby? No problem. Walking around with a big gross ass? You get the drift.

I wish that Baboons, as a whole, had a twitter account so that I could send them a shout out right now. Big ups, baboons.

In conclusion, my trip to Tanzania was probably the best thing I have ever done in my life. I got so much out of it, I can’t stop talking about it. I barely even mention Ironman anymore and I usually bring that up within 10 seconds of meeting someone new.

Pack your crap and get on a plane. You will thank me. And you’ll also probably see baboons do it.