Crunching numbers.

This one counts. All of them do, actually. That’s because I’ve started a new dietary regime: counting calories. Now, I know what you’re all thinking: “Could you train a dog to use a ride-on lawn mower?” And the answer is a resounding YES. Or at least that is what my heart tells me. There are also probably a few of you out there who are thinking: “Counting calories is great way to slowly drive yourself insane.” To that, I have nothing to say, except “Yes, but did you know that one tablespoon of mayonaise has approximately one hundred calories fire hydrant moonbeam?” Sorry, I’m not sure what that last bit was about. It’s probably just allergies. Aaaaaaaaaaaanyway, I’m taking this new mission very seriously, so much so that, last night, I did not eat a single drop of ice cream. That’s right. I have self-control after all. Turns out it’s a lot harder to wolf down a pint of frozen cream, sugar and caramel when you know that it is the caloric equivalent of eating an entire lasagna. This does not mean, however, that I am depriving myself of the food I love to eat. In fact, I find that I eat more of the good stuff (fruit, vegetables, nuts, bolts, screws and nails) because of the daily calories I have allotted myself. It’s kind of like creating a budget for your body, which sounds thrilling, I know. Soon I’ll be touring the country with a pony-tail and microphone headset to promote my new book, “Body Budgeting: The Five Facets of Fiscal Fitness.” See, I told you I would go insane.