Years ago, when I was a much portlier version of myself, I determined to lose weight, and for the most part I’ve kept off the weight. I work out every day and generally watch what I eat (generally). However, there are two long-standing loopholes in my diet; the cruel shackles of the diet are removed when 1) I’m out of town, especially overseas, and 2) when I’m at a baseball game. The food at the Suns game tonight was decidedly sub-par – I mean, come on, really, who runs out of peanuts at a baseball game by the fourth inning? It is decidedly un-American, and I hesitate to even break the news to that noted patriot, Sanford Zale. That said, Ben and I, after being rebuffed in our quest for peanuts, did track down some fried pickle slices, which were delicious. We found them in a little stand that deep-fried several times, including candy bars, and what could be more American than that? I mainly posted this in honor of our friend Mike Lange who annually held a party on Super Bowl Sunday (since over-shadowed by the Chicken Wings for Charity event) wherein he, with the help of four deeo fryers, would fry anything they could imagine. He tells an epic story of deep-fried Pepsi, but I can’t begin to do it justice.