Getting mad at the Giants doesn’t really qualify as exercise

A nd now for another installment from Columnist of the People (COTP) a pathetic, Dear Abby-type knockoff for casual sports fans.

Today's topic: Not to get “er” through the holidays.

See, COTP is already fat. This is not to “er,” as in fatter.

Sigh. You know how this works. Literally out every night from Thanksgiving through Christmas. COTP's social calendar, between covering games and holiday parties, is a caloric calamity. How will we get through this? First, some confessions: COTP gets it: To lose weight, one must burn more calories than one eats. So COTP downloads one of these apps to monitor exercise and caloric intake. One of these days, a little voice is going to shout from the app, “liar, liar, pants on fire.”

COTP's bouts with inactivity occasionally forces him to log everything as exercise. Walk to the car to retrieve a notebook? Steps! Grocery shopping, zipping up and down the aisles? More steps! Lose your temper watching the Giants so your heart races? Logged it. Every little movement counts. Or not.

Hence, COTP is good at logging. Not exercising. Just logging.

Then COTP must log what he eats. (And drinks). Breakfast, lunch and dinner aren't so bad. COTP, inspired by his favorite new cook (and former mayor of Groton) Marian Galbraith, even made something with Swiss chard the other night. So there.

But the snacks? COTP cheats more than Bill Belichick.

Nachos. Do you even have to be hungry to eat them?

Popcorn. Of course, bars serve it to make you drink more. Which has never been a problem in the first place. So you ask for more popcorn. Same thing in the movie theater, after which resounding waves of Catholic

guilt suggest the movie stinks unless there's accompanying popcorn.

Chips. They taste better when they belong to someone else. COTP doesn't even like them. But the TV commercial is right: Who can eat just one? Cookie dough. Retires the trophy. Cap'n Crunch. Yep. Oh, the beautiful red box. Crunch Berries are worse. Here's the thing: You don't even pour them in a bowl, because, of course, you believe you'll eat less if you don't pour.

We've been told forever that we are what we eat. You try to eat well, exercise and log it all. So how come this compulsion doesn't apply to celery sticks or tall glasses of water? You could look at a tray of celery all day long and never, not once, have an urge to eat it. Well, unless there was a huge bowl of ranch dressing next to it. So, there's that.

COTP wouldn't be COTP, though, without helpful hints. Try this one: Exercising before all holiday parties and while watching sports on television. It's a sports bonanza at this time of year anyway: pro football, college football, college basketball, NBA, NHL.

So what if we cleared room in the living room or basement and did the following:

Burpees, push-ups, sit-ups and leg cranks. A leg crank is a combination of squats, squat jumps and lunges. It's not long until your legs go into business for themselves.

C'mon. This is genius. Instead of sitting there and bemoaning the Giants' impending 1-15 record, you can rid your body of all the angst and toxins. Burpees, push-ups, sit-ups and leg cranks will have you panting and drooling by the end like a St. Bernard (the dog, not the school). And make you significantly less guilty about eating Cap'n Crunch and popcorn.

Treacherous times ahead, nonetheless. There's nothing like sporting events and holiday parties that encourage the bathroom scale to say “to be continued” when you step on it. But we can all get through this together. Pre-party leg cranks. In-game burpees. Or some combination thereof. All so we can get to Jan. 1 and proudly proclaim we did not get “er.” Then we can pass the celery sticks and all be miserable together. This is the opinion of Day sports columnist Mike DiMauro