By Mark Feigenbutz/Photos by Amanda Tyler

     To My Dedicated Readers,

* I interviewed this guy named Chace.

So, I’ve finally decided to get in shape. I’m doing this thing called the Slow-Carb Diet. As cheesy as it sounds, it’s not – because you can’t eat cheese! The gist of it is that you limit your caloric intake exclusively to foods with a low glycemic index, or GI, so as not to trigger an insulin spike and the resulting blood sugar drop. Apparently, by keeping your blood levels at an equilibrium, you’re in a prime zone conducive to losing fat. The best part is (and I assure you that I would not be able to even attempt this diet otherwise) that every seventh day, you get to cheat. I’ve only been on the diet for about 8 hours so far, but the prospect of a cheat day is already proving itself to be an incredibly psychologically powerful tool.

This is somewhat similar to how I quit smoking. After almost ten years of smoking (and a few years of chewing tobacco, I’m not too proud to admit), nicotine was really getting the best of me. Like every other addict, I’d tried to quit “for real” about a zillion times. (I know a “zillion” isn’t a real number, but try to stay with me here.) Whenever I’d decide to quit, yet another “for real” time, I would crush all my remaining cigarettes and flush my chewing tobacco down the toilet. It was a great strategy until I’d desperately need nicotine the following day and waste the little money I had replacing the cigarettes and chewing tobacco I’d thrown out the night before. I had the idea to not destroy my nicotine, but keep the products at my apartment. When I was going about my day, if I really wanted a cigarette, I’d tell myself that I would have one when I got home. (And I really meant that I would let myself have one, too. If I didn’t mean it, it never would have worked.) As you can probably guess, once I finally got home the craving had passed and I no longer wanted nicotine. That’s how I quit. It was two years last October. I mean, I still smoke a cigar occasionally, but I’m done.


Yours Truly,


* Below is the interview with Chace… or Chase; I’m not sure. Chace or Chase is some sort of an artist who doesn’t usually work with clay but he was that particular day and I think I was supposed to feel sorry for him or something. Chace or Chase is an average-looking fellow who you’d miss if you saw and less abominable than a lot of people out there.

Me: “If you could ask me one question, what would it be?”

Chace or Chase: (Silence)

Me: “What was your first impression of me?”

Chace or Chase: “Douche.”

(I have to admit, I was caught a little off-guard by his response. But then again, people have told me how fresh my personality is!)

Me: “What do you think my favorite color is?”

Chace or Chase: “Yellow, because it’s shitty.”

(Ewwww! I don’t know what shit you’re looking at, Chace or Chase!)

Me: “What famous person do I most resemble?”

Chace or Chase: “Tom Cruise.”

(Chace or Chase then added something about how not only do I have his movie-star looks, but his killer personality, too!)

P.S. I’d like to just take a moment to appreciate myself for doing a good job on the interview. I’m not gonna lie – I was nervous. I’m still getting used to this interviewing thing!

P.P.S. Seriously, interviewing people is a lot more difficult than it looks; give me a break.

P.P.P.S. Oh yeah, almost forgot – thanks, Chace!

P.P.P.P.S. Or Chase!