Hi.  Hey there.  How’re ya doing?  Life good?  That’s swell.  Me, tWHHHAAAAAAAAAAAAA???????!!!!!!!!!!!!!

I know.

I know!

GOOD MORNING, HOT MAN DIETEERS!!!  Did ya’ll miss me?  Come, come, fret not, kiddies.  Dear, dear peeps, ah let us kiss and make up.  We’ve been through so much, so very much.  What’s a five week silence between friends?

I know!

If I may be so bold as to attempt an excuse…it was summer and summer was slipping by at, like, crazy warp speed, and I was trying to spend some quality summer time with the RLHM (Real Life Hot Man - yup, he’s still hanging in there!) and with my friends and with my official Boys of Summer (can I hear it for my Yanks, what what!!!  Best record in baseball, biotches!!!) and it was all just becoming too much and by too much I mean Too Much and so something had to give, something had to bend, something had to acquiesce and yes, that word works perfectly in this situation, absolutely perfectly, because I needed, needed some part of my life to “submit or comply silently or without protest” (thank you, www.dictionary.com) and that certainly wasn’t gonna be the RLHM or the Secret Weapon (the goddess Eileen - yup, she’s still hanging in there!) or my official Boys of Summer or my friends or my family or my new neighbor, the Pacific Ocean.  Nope.  So I did it.  I HAD to.  I stopped the Hotness.

WHAAAAAAAAAAA??????!!!!!!!!!

But I didn’t mean to STOP it.  I only meant to put it on hiatus.  And there was supposed to be an entry, The Hotness Hiatus, that was to explain the reasons for my brief departure.  It was supposed to illuminate and inform, entertain and enthrall, delight and deliver.  It was supposed to wish you all a hearty end of summer and leave you looking forward to my return come fall.  It was supposed to exist.  Only problem?  It didn’t.  Except in my head.  And, as my new relationship constantly reminds me, you guys can’t read what’s going on in my head.  Silly rabbit!

And so now I can only sit here and offer my most sincere, my deepest, deepest apologies for this blogular travesty!  I am very sorry.  Truly, I am.  That was a false move, a callow and cowardly showing for someone who knows better.  I’m really sorry. 

The good news?  I’M BAAAAAAAAAACCCCCCCKKKKKKKKK!!!!!!!!!!!!  Bigger (unfortunately I also mean that literally) and badder than ever!  Are you kids ready?  Are you ready to return to the Hotness?!  Holy crap, but I need it!  I need you kids!  Or as they say in Pittsburgh, I need youns!  ARE YOU READY TO BE MANSPIRED?! 

I am, I am, I am, I am, I am, I am!!!!!!!!  

And so we go back to the beginning and we begin at the beginning.  We roll up our sleeves and prepare to work.  We concentrate.  We focus.  We dig deep.  We call on our strength, our deep reserves of liquid gold strength.  We ask for help.  We lend support.  We work.  We Manjoy.  We work.  We Manticipate.  We work.  We Manspire.  We work.  We work.  We work.  And we don’t resent the work.  We love the work.  We need the work.  We rock the work.  We change because of the work.  Nothing ventured, nothing gained.  That which does not kill us shall only make us stronger.  We will because we will it.  Pain is just weakness exiting the body.  Nothing tastes as good as a Hot Man feels. 

Nothing?

Nothing.

Let’s get this party started! 

Hot Manspiration of My Life! The Week:  When you’re watching someone become a legend right in front of your eyes do you realize what you’re seeing?  Do you understand the weight of it?  The heft of it?  Can you see the rules being re-written?  The incredible things being undone and done?  Can you see the change, the way the world will never be quite the same again? Can you see the bar being raised when it is already soooo high?  And if you can, does it change the oh-my-god-Derek-Jeter-is-SO-effing-HOTness of it all? 

Yes, it does.  Stunningly enough, it just makes him that much Hotter.  I can’t…I can’t…there are no…words…not enough…I mean…really…

Begin at the beginning.  Call on the Original Trifecta of Hotness.  They will see you through…they will see you through…

See you next week!  (I’m cereal.)

Hey!

Here I am!

(I told you I’d be back.  I totally told you.)

Kids, the time for change is nigh.  I know I’ve been screaming that from the mountaintops for, like, ever now, but I really mean it.  The time for change is nigh.  First up - that blasted weekly countdown I’ve been using to chart my progress lo these many months.  I’m over it.  Are youns?  I’m over counting the weeks.  Let’s do something different.  Something better.  Something funnerer.  Something new.  (Aaah, such a good movie, that Something New.  Sophisticated Sistah meets Creamy White Hotness and life is ne’er the same again.  How sweet it is, how sweet it is!)  I wanna do something that doesn’t make me want to go at my fridge with an axe because all those weeks make me think I should be a LOT further along in my weight loss.  Something that celebrates my past success even if my present is less than stellar.  Hell, I’ve lost a LOT of weight without any plans, without any procedures and without any pills.  Why not sing my body electric?  So what if I climbed off the wagon to have a beer at the bar down the way…I’m still here, I’m still standing, and by gummit someday (soon?) I’ll start losing again.  This is a party, people…and I’m nothing if not an excellent party planner.  So allow me to introduce the “Hot-O-Meter”, official success-celebrator of Hot Man Diet, Inc.  (Patent pending)  Every week the Hot-O-Meter will greet you with the news you need to know.  Think of it as my personal Hotness Alert Level.  Because I am ALWAYS Hot.  (p.s. So are you!)

So in spite of the fact that I would rather plunge flaming knives into my eyeballs than weigh in, despite the tremors and shakes currently rattling through me old bones due to sheer, unadulterated fear, fear, fear, I will bring you the inaugural Hot-O-Meter reading right…now…as soon as I step on the scale…face the fear, ya know…face it head on…gotta be accountable, ya know…right…now…Hey, did I tell you guys I’m going see my Yankees tonight?  Yup, I haven’t seen them live yet this year, and I’m chomping at the bit for some pinstriped Hotness in front of me own two eyes.  It’s September, ya know, every game means a lot…okay…gonna step on the scale…brutal honesty, ya know…reality check…coming…right…And my mom is coming to visit next week!  Yeah, I’m completely stoked to have her visit.  She gets to see my new pad and, most importantly, she gets to meet the RLHM (Real Life Hot Man).  I know, I know.  Her Hotness is an actual “girlfriend” to an actual “man”.  And he’s not a bouncer or married.  And I know his first AND last name.  I’m really moving up in the world…okay, okay, okay, OKAY.  Deep breath, sip of coffee, here goes:

Hot-O-Meter Reading:  down 47.5 pounds total! 

Weekly Hotness Alert Level is Low due to a major threat of Whitewineuss on Behinduss, reading up a whopping 7 pounds since last quarter’s briefing.  (Holy crap!)  After initial evaluation SASSY (Suggested Action Steps to Shrink Yo’ass) recommends the following: a revised physical fitness template that includes no less than four (4) workouts of significant impact (i.e. biking to bars does not count), coupled with the abolishment of Fourth Meal, which is not good for anyone no matter what Taco Bell says.  For the record, SASSY would also like to point out that Saturdays need vegetables, too.  SASSY believes these few tweaks to an out of control regimen will quickly yield positive results.  And SASSY is always right.

Hot Manspiration of the Week:  This is a bittersweet one, kids.  We’ve bid a lot of Hot Men goodbye, haven’t we?  Paul Newman, Heath Ledger, and now Patrick Swayze.  Forget the parting image of our dear, sweet dirty dancer racked with illness and remember instead the time of our lives, for he was the official Hot Man of Slumber Parties for many, many years.  Aaah, Dirty Dancing…you gotta love it!  We were young and innocent and awkward like Baby, and he was the first jolt of sex we’d had since John Travolta in Grease.  Didn’t we want him then?!  Didn’t we need him then?  And didn’t we dream that someday, someday we’d dance just like that with someone just like that and even though we’re well in our thirties and well aware that will NEVER happen, don’t we still dream?  And so we thank him, that Hot Man Patrick Swayze, for being there, for being Hot, and for making sure that we were never, ever put in a corner.