My Life Is Over

I just got back from the Doctor's office, one of my every 4 month appointments to see my endocrinologist and have him check out the old diabetes, make sure I'm not dying and whatnot. We were discussing my increased insulin usage and my food choices (see, for all you normies out there, the more carbohydrate filled food I eat the more insulin I need). I discovered that Chinese food is pretty much the worst think I can eat. The sauces have a ton of sugar, and are really high in salt. Plus, the chicken is fried and fatty. Fat means my body will absorb the carbs slower, and thus my insulin won't go as far and I would need to take more a couple hours after I eat (again, for you normies, we call that "chasing").

So, this is pretty much the worst thing I could ever hear because I LOVE Chinese food. I fucking love it. I would let it take my virginity in the back of my parents Duster on prom night, that's how much I love it. I eat it like 4 times a week (which is weird, because I don't really find Asian women attractive...if you're following my train of thought, I eat Chinese food but not the women...ba-dum-ba!). I mean, Tupac dying sucked. Getting Diabetes in the first place was pretty lame. Getting my pay cut at work due to the recession blew. But this! This cannot be. It feels like when Stephon asked to be traded, ruining my dreams of KG/Starbury/10 titles. The hurt is the same, the betrayal by something I love so dearly is familiar.

The doctor literally said that eating pixie sticks are better for me. I take that to mean I can safely eat ice cream for dinner again, like in my fat days, before Diabetes. In fact, maybe this Chinese embargo isn't so bad after all...

Old People As Actors

I was watching a commercial for the Minnesota Closed Captioning phone service, to which I wish I had a video of some kind to show you, because this commercial just cracks me the fuck up. At the end of the commercial there is like a 5 second shot of a girl calling her grandpa, he picks up the phone and the grandpa says "hello Jessie". Now the reason this is funny to me, other than the way the grandpa says hello(which is cruel of me because he's deaf), is because I imagine the stage direction he must have received from the director of the commercial.

The rabbit hole gets pretty deep on this one. I mean, is this really a deaf old guy? Or is it a slightly less older guy playing what he thinks a deaf old guy sounds like? Did they just bring in some old confused deaf guy to the studio and tell him to answer the prop phone? Was he confused when he answered and realized there wasn't anyone on the other line, or even that the phone was plugged in? Did he actually have to sit down and audition for that role? Which to be honest, when you're that old, is pretty much the role of a lifetime? Did someone in charge of casting actually say, upon seeing the old guys impression of a really old guy who sounds like a dolphin, "That's him! That's the guy I want answering the phone! By God, it's like hearing Shakespeare for the first time!"

These are just the things I think about from time to time...

My New Arch Enemy

I've been trying to save money lately, like everyone in America it seems (I miss the days when Americans could ride around in their Gold Humvees, running over baby seals, and giving a big middle finger to inferior countries like France). That means no going out for lunch every day, and I have to make my own fucking sandwich like some orphan. Since we are at the start of a Minnesota winter, I also have to eat inside in our work cafeteria. It's not realy a cafeteria though, since there isn't actual food served in there. It's more like a big cold room with secondhand tables and chairs. It smells, it's completely filthy, the garbages overflows, the sink drips, the vending machines always eat your money, and there's usually some sort of raw fish sitting in a bowl of liquid that one of the Vietnamese workers brought in to eat. Normally I wouldn't take step one inside that place. I blame the recession.

Now, you may think that my new arch enemy is the lunch room, the raw fish, or even the owner who raped me out of 10% of my paycheck last year.

No…

The real enemy of mine is the lady who sits in the good padded chair every day and puts her lunch bag on the chair as a way to save her seat. Most of the chairs in the lunch room are hard plastic or broken down office furniture, which makes it hard to enjoy an hour long lunch period when your ass falls asleep after 15 minutes. But not this chair, in all its green vinyl padded glory. This chair is like the God of chairs. It’s like the fucking Lebron James of chairs. This chair is my religion, I would die for it.

I refuse to honor her “calling” of the chair. I move her lunch bag and her coat to the other side of the table because I reject the possibility that a lunch room in a professional environment works on the same principles as calling shotgun. And I’ll be damned if I let my ass fall asleep for her misguided beliefs.

I’ve never been exactly sure of whose lunch bag and coat it is, but I’ve had my suspicions. The lady I’m thinking of works on our assembly floor and looks just like an old next door neighbor of mine from my college days. My old neighbor was a huge bitch, so naturally, I think the lady that looks like her is a huge bitch too. You know what they say; all old white people look alike.

And today my suspicions were confirmed. I saw the assembly floor crew all head into the lunch room on their break and decided to follow them, just to see who I’m dealing with once and for all. I kept a low profile, sneaking around the corner and waiting just outside the glass doors.

And wouldn’t you know it…

It was totally the lady I was thinking about. And as she was coming close to “her” chair I could see he disgust to see her lunch moved once again. And that’s when she looked up, right into my eyes from across the room and through the glass doors. In that moment, she knew it was me. She knew I was the one responsible for crashing the once peaceful existence she enjoyed like a lunch room dictator. She gave me the worst look a person could give to another. I may as well be Hitler to her. I’ve killed her family, murdered her dog, and now I’m taking her lunch spot. I could feel her hatred for me. It was so thick and rich I could have drizzled it on pancakes.

It’s on now, lady.
It's so fucking on.

NBA Observations

I used to be a huge fan of NBA basketball. When I was growing up I made sure I had every version of SLAM magazine, and even have a couple of them today (Lebron and Bassy on the same cover!). However, in the last couple years I've kind of grown apart from my ex-favorite sport. Maybe because my local Wolves have been so bad since they traded KG, or maybe I just find the NBA game to not be as exciting as it once was. But I've been following it a little more closely this year, at least until the Twins start making some moves (Beltre, Beltre, Beltre!) or the Vikes start their playoff run. Here are a couple observations...

Joakim Noah looks like the worst smelling person of all time, next to golfer Vijay Singh. The worst part is, it’s starting to look like Joakim and his weird mustache and half from may actually be good at basketball.

Steve Nash is the best pure point guard in the game. Some of his ball skills are just sick. Don’t believe me, go here

Lebron James is looking more and more like Jordan in his prime. The scary thing is that he’s just as good a passer, shoots with a higher percentage, and can rebound like a forward. The only thing left is for him to become clutch, which to be honest, Jordan was one of a kind and may never be touched in that regard.

I’m still pissed about the Roy/Foye trade. If the T-Wolves didn’t trade Roy, we’d have never had to dismantle the team and we’d be playoff bound this year.

And speaking of the Wolves the Nets, Knicks, Grizzlies, and Warriors will all finish with worse records than the timberpuppies, and that’s saying something

I'm Smarter and Better Than You

Dear Steve,

I saw you went grocery shopping today, but the pantry was suspiciously bare...

I found the package of Oreos in your bedside drawer, and the Pepperidge Farm Chocolate Chunk cookies in Mom's "good china" part of the buffet cabinets. The Heath Bar Klondike bars were unable to conceal themselves in the downstairs freezer.

You're going to have to do better than that.

To teach you a lesson, I'm going to eat most of this tonight while you're sleeping. My blood sugars are going to take a bit of a hit, but you've really given me no choice and have no one to blame but yourself. Not only did your genetics give me my terminal disease, but you make me teach you this lesson.

If you find me in a coma tomorrow morning, or perhaps stone cold dead with a huge smile on my face, my beloved brother Dan can have all my worldly posessions and money in my bank accounts. Except for my Playboy subscription which should go to Jay, and Mom can have the rest of my senior pictures.

And save about $2,000.00. I figure that's how much a golden suit will cost. And I want to be buried in a golden suit.

Carolyn Doesn't Quite Get How TiVo Works

I was sitting with my roomates the other day, catching up on about a week and change worth of TiVo programing. It was an unusually sunny day outside, but none of us could seem to muster the strength to actually go outside into the nice day. Like most people, we figured we could rest today and be outside tomorrow as it was predicted to again be a beautiful fall day in Minnesota.

We're watching commercials for a show (which should lead me to believe that Carolyn doesn't know we can fast forward through the commercials, and that the concept of a digital video recorder is above her head), and right before we get to the show a promo for the local news comes on and announes the weather for the day "tomorrow" is going to be rainy and cold...

Carolyn: "oh what the hell, it was supposed to be nice tomorrow!!!"
Me: "what are you talking about?"
Carolyn: "the news, they just said it was going to be rainy and shitty tomorrow. I was going to take care of my plants and do some cleaning up around the yard, and now I can't! Well this just sucks"
Me: "Ma, you do realize we're watching a show that's a week old, right? They were talking about the weather for last Sunday."
Carolyn: "oh."

And then we all had a laugh...

In Honor of Halloween

In honor of this Halloween season, I am reminded of one of the funnier interactions between someone I know and a cafeteria worker.

My freshman year in the dorms I had lunch every day with a good friend of mine, Joe. We were standing in line the day of Halloween discussing how very little Halloween cheer we felt. The cafe was sparsely decorated at best, and the workers dishing up the food weren't even dressed up. Lame. Joe decided to change all that:

Worker: What would you like?
Joe: I'd like some scare-a-roni, please.
Worker: What?
Joe: Maybe you have some spaghetti with frightballs? That would be spooktacular. Thank you.
Annoyed worker: What?