Social Workout

Poet Laureate

McSmack Milkshakes

This probably won’t come as a surprise to anyone, but it turns out that the milkshake bringing all the boys to the yard keeps those boys coming back for more, and more, until their appetites are only appeased when the streets flow with the chocolate blood of a thousand leaky Frosties... Which is to say, junk food is addictive. Like drugs.

Poet Laureate

The Price of a Nutritionist

At the “Health and Wellness Fair” my company recently sponsored, I had the opportunity to briefly meet nutritionist Robyn Youkilis, who agreed to have a half-hour phone meeting with me the following day. 24 hours later, I found myself in my office lobby, discussing my erratic sleeping habits and the quality of my, er, gastrointestinal system as my coworkers glanced and frowned at me while they walked in and out of the office. I learned a few things, like gluten can be the culprit behind my insomnia and inability to focus, followed immediately up with that there’s actually good-tasting gluten-free beer. (My nutritionist knows me so well and she’s not even my nutritionist!) After our talk, though, came the pitch: for $297 a month I too could have a nutritionist! Wait, what?

Poet Laureate

The “Health and Wellness Fair" at Work

Every year the company I work for hosts a “Health and Wellness Fair,” opening the glass doors to our offices and allowing vendors to come and hawk their health wares and services. It’s been a bit of a joke at the office since the lady with the wolfberry concoction hospitalized one of our copyeditors with a free sample, but this year I thought I’d give it a shot and peruse the conference-room-turned-health-flea-market for something besides an ambulance ride. A sneak peek into corporate “wellness” after the jump!

Poet Laureate

Stinky Feet Man

About a year ago, I posted something about how much my gymed-up foot sweat made my shoes stink, thus coining the now oft-quoted phrase “situ-all-funked-up.” What I didn’t post, however, was how much I absolute love my electric blue kicks and I never want to be apart from them even if they have cartoon green wavy stench lines oozing out of them. They’ve spent this past year coffined in a plastic grocery bag and crammed in the corner of my bookshelf-turned shoeshelf. Call me crazy, but I’ve been hoping and praying that some sort of shoe funk-killer would present itself. And, well, it has. For, like, 260 bucks.

Poet Laureate

Ladies in the Gents Locker Room

If you haven’t heard, Ines Sainz is the latest in a string of female reporters to be sexually harassed while on the job. I can’t speak for what was said to her—because, well, I can’t find anything except she was “called out”—but since the verbal part of the incident took place in the Jets locker room, I think it raises a decent question: should female reporters be allowed in men’s locker rooms? I understand many post-game interviews take place there, but it’s also where athletes, you know, get naked. Thoughts after the jump.

Poet Laureate

Pumpkin Attacks Fat: A Halloween Service Announcement

Because I’ve seen “red light district” versions of witches, nurses, Dorothy, Power Puff Girls, Sarah Palin, dogs, cats, and, once, an extraordinarily inappropriate yet somehow sexy bumble bee, I understand that Halloween is the one night many ladies can show a little playful leg, burn their inhibitions up in a jack-o-lantern, and, er, make out with Batman. For the dudes, we can Velcro our muscles on, leer as much as we like, lead the way through haunted houses or have a brilliant conversation with Master Chief over the hot-ice-laced Halloween punch. The point is, 47 days until Halloween! The time to start cooking up your costume is NOW.

Right now you might be thinking, “Mohawk, thanks, you’re awesome, but, I mean, what the hell does this have to do with a health website?” And to you I say: unless you’re throwing a bag over yourself and going as a “bag,” your body plays an integral part of your costume! So here are some helpful suggestions for how to bring your best when slipping into that fishnet body stocking, you sexy thang.

Poet Laureate

The Awesome White House Dance Party

Michelle Obama is glorious. We all admire Obama arms, and most of us agree she’s some kind of fashion icon, at times daring, at times over the top, or sometimes a little too obsessed with J Crew. Whatever the case, there’s a country-wide admiration for Jackie O. 2.0, and I’m celebrating her further for her stake in America’s health. Yeah, she’s had some diet news buzzing about her, and is campaigning against childhood obesity… but even cooler than that is the White House Dance Party she threw Tuesday. And more are planned! How awesome is that? No word on whether the president got into fits of the Macarena, but I hope, for everyone’s sake, he fist bumped (or, if you’re FOX, “terrorist fist-jabbed”) the White House dance guests SUPER CR3W.

Poet Laureate

Spotted at Fort Greene Park: Archie Comics Bully or MacGyver Workout Machine?

At Fort Greene Park, incapacitated by a stomach full of salmon quiche and mimosas, teetering between napping and amiable chatter. It's 2pm, and the sunny, cool day is like the season’s gift to students: a final, blissful Sunday to romp through the world before school starts and they're once again manacled to schedules, homework, and school lunches. For me, it’s a peaceful day with friends that’ll unroll into a workless labor day Monday, until one of my friends squawks in astonishment: “Is that guy squatting his girlfriend???”

New York

Poet Laureate

Down With Moobs

At Rehoboth beach this weekend, I had the chance to soak up some sun, crack open a couple of crab legs, rediscover the intestinal destruction that is butter dipping sauce, and skip in the sand like I was mentally-channeling/chasing a bikini-clad, beach-going Dorothy. Unfortunately, the ratio of varicose-mapped bodies and jiggly puffs to “fun and fits” was about 17 to 1. (Yes, I counted. C’mon Amurrica!) The WORST, though, was this one fairly normally looking bloke chilling beneath an umbrella, who stood up suddenly and had moobs dangling so low they grazed his waistline, like well-used udders brushing the grass.

Poet Laureate

Plastic Surgery is Good for Your Esteem

In a world where Heidi Montag can get sick of her ballooned G cup while worrying the rumored sex tape of her might feature her pre-under-the-knife body, or where Jennifer Anniston isn’t the cover girl you think she is (or is she?) it comes as no surprise that the New York Times can report that cosmetic surgery boosts your self esteem. I guess the surprise comes when you realize the article is about an eighteen-year-old girl Kristen who got boobs for a graduation gift.