It’s not a good idea to eat dinner watching a prizefight unless you’re a closet bulimic.

Know what? I’ve developed some strange television preferences during the last couple of years. Aside from enjoying quality reality programming such as “Hardcore Pawn,” “Real Housewives of New Jersey” and “Project Runway,” I’m also into sports, and I figure this is probably because we’ve got a pretty cool Sony 60-inch TV. I like to watch PGA golf, NFL football and — most recently — championship boxing.

Last night on HBO I watched the May 5 Cotto/Mayweather fight, during which a really well-matched pair of scrappy boneheads pummeled the crap out of each other for 12 rounds at the MGM Grand in Las Vegas. I definitely surprise myself when I watch something like this because I don’t seem to mind the violence of boxing. What I do mind, however, is what goes on in the corners between rounds. You get these intense, high-definition close-ups of the aforementioned boneheads dripping sweat while their helpers shout instructions, shove foot-long Q-tips up their noses and massage them with wads of Vaseline. Just for fun you also get to see them drool, spit water and bleed from their eyebrows. (Hint: it’s NOT a good idea to eat dinner watching a prizefight unless you’re a closet bulimic.)

It’s weird in the house when Sam’s out of town so maybe I should just go to bed since there’s nobody to talk to, I can’t think of anything else to eat and I already took all my night-time pills. Thank you for reading this.