Nothing ruins a good thing like too much of a good thing.

This Paleo diet is getting to be more of a slog with each passing day. You think you like steak and bacon? Yeah. Try steak and bacon and chicken breast for three weeks straight. My Beautiful Wife is a fabulous cook, and the magic she has performed to keep steak and bacon and chicken breasts interesting is only surpassed by what she has done to keep things interesting in other aspects of our eleven year marriage. [Insert winky emoticon here.] But golly gee. Whodathunk I’d kill a drifter for a lowly plate of spaghetti?

I’m going to pioneer the next diet craze: The Wino Diet. When was the last time you saw a fat wino? No, not me, I mean a professional wino? See? I’m going to make millions and then I’m going to go live with ol’ Covert Bailey, the guy who said carbohydrates were our friends. And by “live” I mean “beat the living shit out of his lyin’ ass.”

In my late twenties, I once told a girlfriend with all sincerity that I had never actually eaten my fill of two things: bacon and shrimp. I had never said the words out loud: “Yaknow, I just couldn’t eat one more bit of bacon. One more shrimp.”

I was destitute during those years. So for my birthday she took me downtown (not a sexual metaphor) to the all-you-can eat brunch at a fancy hotel. All the bacon I could eat. All the shrimp I could cram in my pie hole.

I eventually tapped out on the shrimp. Enough. No mas. My skin was turning a krill shade of pink like a flamingo.

But we ran out of brunch clock before I could honestly say, “Not one more piece of bacon!”

Sixteen years later, I’m almost ready to hoist that flag.

Almost. Let’s not get crazy here. I said “Almost.”

It really sucks when you let yourself get so fat that you can diet for three weeks and all you have to show for it is being less fat.

Welcome to middle age, Pancho Gutzo. Come sit over here in the shade and let’s kibitz over a glass of wine. Or six.