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The Fisher of Stories


I’m typing this while laying down in my bed because I can’t hold my arms in an extended position for any length of time.

I just had my first workout with my new personal trainer, Mr. Brian Kizzia of Fort Gibson.

Some of you might remember the little “Journey through the Xs” I made a couple of years ago. You know, the one where I lost 73 pounds in about 13 weeks, taking me from 370 pounds to 297.

A look at “The Shirt” pics that I took over the course of the year.

I was losing weight. The Missus was losing weight, even Kid Funk was losing weight. I was happy. I was working hard, but I was happy.
When the moment of “under 300” came, I was thrilled. I lambasted Facebook with pictures and joyous outbursts, and swore I would never again rise above that dreaded weight.
Then the next week I weight 301 pounds.
I was devastated.
From there I spiraled out of control, trying to desperately to contain the damage, but I had lost all hope on the inside. Eventually, I gave up trying, and the next time I bothered to weigh I tipped the scales at 363 pounds.
That was January 1, 2012.
I made a New Year’s Resolution, and I busted my tail for about 3 months. I dropped about 30 pounds, then…I gave up again.
Today is December 31, 2012.
The Stats:
Height: 5’11″Weight: 353.6 lbs

My measurements. I don’t need any comments about my right bicep being bigger. I’ve worked on that since I was 12.

Currently I am taking 4 prescription medications:
Metformin 1500 mgs a dayGlyburideLisinoprilFenofibrate
These drugs control my Type II Adult Onset Diabetes, my blood pressure, and my liver enzymes.
I am, to put it mildly, in bad shape.
If I had to guess, my daily caloric intake ranges from 4000-7000 calories, and aside from a few heated games of Call of Duty per week, I lead a very sedentary lifestyle.
In short, just like every other male in the Sloat family, I’m on track to die before I turn 40.
A few weeks ago, I asked Brian if he would work with me in return for a little publicity. He agreed, and we’re going to work together to make a new Travis Sloat in 2013. He’s preparing a meal plan, he’s going to train me in cardio and weight lifting, and in general be the bane of my existence for the next couple of months.
I’ve agreed to go 100% with him through the month of January, and given him my word that I will stick to a food plan, in order to show people what an actual diet and exercise “diet” can do.
Now here’s what you can do.
You can head here and “Like” my Facebook page. There you can see in-depth the struggles and successes of my previous journey, and the new one.
You can head here and “Like” Brian’s Facebook page. If you are interested in having him help you out, you can contact him. If you want to wait to see what he does with me, that’s fine too.
And, starting tomorrow, if you see me out and about, and I’m eating something I shouldn’t be, I want you to punch me in the face. No questions, just slap the food from my hands and punch me in the face.
Then run away. Because I for sure can’t catch you in the shape I’m in now.

I am receiving a discount in return for these publications. All opinions expressed are my own, and all results you see will be real and not modified in any way. These blogs in no way correspond with any other writing I do in a professional capacity.
…And this little gem was dropped smooth in my lap. Thank you, late night TV.


I mean…I know I don’t have to. But let’s break this down.

So, this chick went to high school. We’ve got that much, but after that, it gets kind of fuzzy.

If I had to guess, she was probably that girl that wasn’t terribly smart, but was wicked good at giving handjobs under blankets at the football games.

She’s working “for an hourly wage.” Listen. You take that same song, that same chick, and that SAME uniform, give her a pole and a stage, and she’s going to make a HELL of a lot more money than taking orders from the feisty senior citizen lunch crowd at the local diner.

She’s tired of the job she has, even though she is LEGIT with condiment bottles on a tray. Not one of them even moved!

I’m also pretty sure she has to pee. Does the whole thing not remind you of a pee dance?

Then she explains how a college degree makes you more money! I don’t know about you, but this was groundbreaking news. I’m going to look into this and report my findings.

Then she does a little breaking it down on teh internets. She took a test, and now all her problems are solved! YAY!

Then she gets in a chair with a laptop and spins around. That’s dangerous. Those aren’t cheap. While the backgrounds change faster than an LSD trip, she explains that with online classes, you can get your degree on “your own time.” Because nothing spells success like logging onto the internet whenever you feel like it, and trying to pass a history final while sneaking peeks at Asian ass porn on your incognito browser.

Then she sort of breaks it down a bit. Words on the screen and what not. Killer dance moves, which further illustrates my point that she should be on the pole.

And then it ends, sadly, with a performance type piece. Her with a microphone, orange background, and the most obvious lip syncing of the whole thing.

I had tears in my eyes when it was over.

Where did they find this girl? How was it cast?

“Hey there! We’ve got this commercial, it’s going to make you look completely retarded, but it might help you launch that singing career that failed when you got kicked out of the local karaoke bar’s ‘Pub Idol’ competition.”


“And if this fails, listen. You’d make a hell of a lot of money on the pole.”



First off, I saw this commercial on Saturday, during the OU/Texas game.

Watch that. Seriously.

Wow. That shiz is INTENSE. I actually caught myself moving to the edge of my seat during the commercial. Then that voice.


Yeah it did. Did you see that boy with the sucker?

“Daddy, that car came through the glass. How come I got in trouble for throwing my Hot Wheel through the neighbors window?”

“That Hot Wheel wasn’t a Mercedes, son. Plus, you made old man Johnson’s palsy flare up.”

Bravo, Mercedes. Bravo. It’s nice to know that even classy things can break up a party every once and a while, right? You have a friend that does it. You know you do. Just like that car. Everything is going nice and easy, hell, you might even have a sucker, then, BAM! In comes Frank, “Call me Frankie” Tool. Shiz is rude, and no one likes the entrance, but everyone wants to be Frankie.

This is something I saw at a Quik Trip here in Tulsa the other day. For those of you not familiar with QT, well, it’s God’s convenience store. That’s real. I don’t want to hear about how your local 7/11 is the best because one time they had spiced coffee and bear claws for 2 days before Christmas. QT is THE BEST. You need a lottery ticket, a pumpkin cappuccino, a pack of unfiltered Lucky Strikes and Horchata smoothie mixed with Rooster Booster and sweet milk at 4:30 in the morning? QT has it, baby. Hell, they’d probably sell you the winning ticket. However, this sign disturbed me:


I’ve done some research.

One cinnamon roll (pictured in the sign) has 420 calories, 15 grams of fat, and 66 carbs.


Us diabetics have a name for food like this. They’re called “Land Mines*.” That simply means that if you eat one of those every day, or even maybe just twice in your whole life, you’re gonna lose a leg. That’s real.

A bowl of oatmeal? 97 calories, 1.6 grams of fat, and 17 carbs.

Life’s too short for what, now? Oatmeal? I think life will be too short if you DON’T have a little oatmeal every once and again. Geez.

Both of these things represent how far advertising has come to catch our attention. In both cases, it worked, right? I guess I should be saying, “Job well done, boys.” But to be honest, I can’t do it. Quik Trip? I lost a little respect for you. Even if you put some fine print at the bottom of the sign, it would have been better. Something like, [Quik Trip would like to point out that if you have one of these every day, you may develop a fat ass. You may also develop tits, a spare tire, and have certain difficulties seeing your own penis without the use of several mirrors. QT would like to remind you to have a bowl of oatmeal every once in a while. Seriously. Go have one now. Hell, we sell that shiz inside.]

See? I personally think that’s better. That’s just me though. I’m just one voice in a million, lost in the crowd of bloggers. Maybe one day, we’ll get a happy medium in advertising that will allow companies to speak the truth, AND sell their products well.

Now, if you’ll excuse me, I’m gonna go get some mirrors. I want to see my penis.

*I really just made that phrase up. I have consulted no other diabetics in the nicknaming of said product.