There was this fundraising mini-golf tournament at work last week, where every department on our floor made their own little crappy mini-course. Like for one, they just put the hole (a little plastic donut with one side shaped like a dustbin) around the corner, scattered some stuffed animals on the floor, and called it the Super Safari course or something awesome along those lines. You get the idea.

Fundraisers at offices are always very, very effective if they're public enough. In no other stage of your life - even high school - is conformity and peer pressure more important. So when some woman I've never seen before in my life went around asking for the $4 entry fee, I couldn't whip out my wallet fast enough.

So the day of the mini-golf tournament, around lunch time, I went along with like three or four people from my team to do some touring. The director of our group - the boss of my boss (aka Final Bossman) - even came with us.

Anyway, I pride myself on being something of an above average mini-golfer. I think it has something to do with the fact that I am utterly abysmal both at golf and at pool, and how two wrongs always make a right. So I was thinking GRAND PRIZE from the start. Or at the very least, showing all my fellow nerds back at the nerdery how awesome my short game was. And maybe if I beat the Final Bossman bad enough, he would be really impressed and promote me to like King Of The Bank or some other equally glamourous position.

As it turns out...predictably enough...I am really bad at mini-golf. Which was unexpected for me, because I remember going to some really lame birthday party once back in high school (tip: if your birthday party involves mini-golf, then it is lame) and completely crushing the competition. I think I made one of the fat girls cry.

...then again, all the people in my high school were troglodytes, so in hindsight it probably wasn't all that great of an accomplishment.

Anyway, I stunk it up. Some of you already know this, but I am the worst clutch performer of all time. You put me under even a little tiny bit of pressure, and I fold faster than Superman on laundry day. I am the A-Rod of...everything. I would consistently hit amazing opening putts, only to completely fall apart once I got within like two feet of the hole. Just a completely crushing, demoralizing afternoon. The worst part was that the Final Bossman was straight up trash talking me the entire time, and I had absolutely nothing to fire back with. First, I had absolutely no game to back me up. And second, how am I going to talk back to the boss of my boss? I was completely unprepared - I hadn't even had more than like two conversations with him prior to this in my life. Was this his way of being friendly, by destroying me at mini-golf and making me like it?

We were all sitting around at one point afterwards, and during this lull in the conversation, he just opens up with "Well at least we all learned something today. ...Yak is terrible at golf."

I mean...GODDAMN! Why you gotta do me like that, man? You're thirty years older than me and you spent more money on that watch than I will ever make in my entire life!

I'm glad there was a double par maximum for each hole...otherwise I may still be there today, trying to close out the Hungry Hippo Hole or whatever it was called - the one with a hole on top of an incline. I only submitted my score card because I thought the guy tallying up all the scores at the end would be bored out of his head, so he would get a kick out of seeing how terrible of a golfer I was.

Fast forward a week later, and I'm eating these pancakes at work at this assembly thing, because that woman pressured me into getting golf AND pancakes for $10, instead of golf for $4 and pancakes for $5 separately. (I don't understand it either, but I assume the math works out. I do work at a bank, afterall.) Meanwhile there's some guy up at the front, making a speech about how everything was a big success, hopes everyone had fun, poor kids need our money, they're dying on the streets, blah blah blah blah . Then he gets to handing out awards for the mini-golf tournament, and some bro-ish white dude wins it - I'm guessing he cheated.

And then..."With a final score only four strokes under the maximum...the award for 'Most Honest Golfer' goes to...Choking Yak!"

And everyone there ends up looking around, confused, because no one even knows I exist, until one or two people see me, and suddenly the entire office is looking at the back of the crowd at me, holding a styrofoam plate to my face with half a pancake hanging out of it. And I'm thinking "What the fuck kind of award is this? Is this just another unnecessarily extravagant way to make fun of me?"

"Oh Jesus Christ...did I just miss someone saying weeaboo? Am I fucked? I'm fucked, aren't I?"

After a couple seconds of blank stares, I end up walking to the front to receive my prize - a polo shirt with the name of some company I have never heard of before stitched on the front, and a box of three golf balls "to practice with."

I keep the box of golf balls on my desk. I took the shirt home, but it's a small, and I don't really know if it'll fit me in a non-homosexual way. I suspect that they were expecting a small, useless women to win that award. Well guess what? I won. Did that blow your mind? Because that just happened.

It was awesome - I won't lie. In fact, I can't lie. Because I'm the Most Honest Golfer.

"Just stay out of my way or you'll pay - listen to what I say."
"Hey, why don't I just go and eat some hay? I can lay by the bay, make things out of clay, I just may, what'd ya say?"

11/30/2006 09:27:00 PM | Comments (0)

2 Months. 5 Minutes.

You Make Loving Fun - Fleetwood Mac

Let it never be said that my crazy stalker plans don't work.

Last week I found out how to meet Elena without having to actually call her. You know I hate doing things like that. I was heading to my tutorial and I just passed her as she was coming down this stairwell. I would have said "hi" except she was with some girl and I was clearly heading in the opposite direction. It would have been weird. I was hoping that she would notice me, but she didn't. However, I now had a time and a place.

I met up with my cousin Adrienne today to have a quick meal and deliver her birthday present to her. It was nice, because I haven't had much chance to talk to her this year and she's always been around to hear me complain about this or that. When I told her about Elena and my plans to ambush her, she laughed. I explained that if this was the 1940s, my bizarre antics would be considered romantic. Now they're borderline criminal. What a world we live in.

My plan was six-fold:

1) Meet up with Julius in front of Sidney Smith.
2) Move to the stairwell where I saw her last week and stand around there, chatting.
3) Wait for the target to approach and a) recognize me or b) recognize Julius. If neither occurs, then c) ATTACK!!!
4) Tell Elena that I accidentally though I had tutorial today, but since I don't I'm free to walk her to wherever she is going. Julius buggers off.
5) Make small talk about movies, school work, the civil war in Iraq. It's all good.
6) If all goes well, proceed with the sexing.

Obviously that all went out the window. I lost track of time hanging out with my cousin and I suddenly found myself in a mad dash down St. George street. I mean, right down the middle of the street. Cars were being blocked off due to construction, so maniacs like myself were free to go wherever we wanted. I chose to leave the sidewalks because I didn't feel like running down any old ladies today. Maybe tomorrow. When I was finally forced to move back to the sidewalk, I ran along the elevated concrete paths that seperate the plants from the pavement. That's how she saw me. I like to think the sight of me bounding through the air was impressive in some way, but again, I probably just looked out of my mind and sweaty. We shared an awkward hug (do I know any other kind?) and I asked her where she was going (even though it was SO obvious I was running in the opposite direction). She pointed to the building right next to us. On the one hand, I was unlucky because, well, there was really nowhere to walk her to now. On the other, I was lucky because if I hadn't ran and if I had been ten seconds later, she would be in the building and I would have missed her completely.

I got to at least share an elevator ride with her and she told me she hadn't been around much because she had some bacterial throat infection. As if she needed to make excuses for her not being around. She asked me what I was doing on Wednesday and then said that I should come to this Grad School thing at 5:30 that day. You can't measure how quickly I said "yes". I'm not going to stay there long, just long enough to let her know I was there. I'll make plans to meet her after exams are over. It doesn't matter really.

She has this strange sincerity about her. Like, I don't know if she's being sincere, but at least she's convinced me that she is. She was meeting with a teacher assistant and when I asked her if I should leave rather than have her worry about my waiting for her, she scrunched her cute, little nose to indicate her displeasure at these unaccomodating circumstances. That nose scrunch is going to keep me up all night. I hadn't seen her since frosh week and all it took was five minutes of conversation to leave me breathless. Then again, maybe I shouldn't run so much when I'm wearing a thick jacket.

Lastly, for your amusement, a classic Conan sketch.

He guns it. Girl falls into the water. So we circle back looking for her, remember it's pitch black out. The boat hits something. Hard. And you hear kind of *EEEEEEEeeeeuuuuhhh...* And Brokaw says, "Just go. Don't look back." Now, I'm not a writer but maybe there's a skit in that.

11/28/2006 07:37:00 PM | Comments (0)

Another posting slump? LIES! Two quick links to get it started again.

First - from what I gather to be a German comedy show (though I can never really tell when it's in foreign languages) - Bernie & Ert. There's a bunch of videos in the series, browse at your own leisure. It's in German, but that just makes it funnier, and I think you can figure out the general idea fairly easily. After all, the subject matter breaks all language barriers and unites all people.

Second - also a chosen bit from a series of foreign videos - Hard Gay. This one's subbed, at least. I think it's a two parter, so it's up to you to find the second part.

All this leaves me a bit confused - I don't know if this makes it easier or harder to take the fact that these two countries combined to terrorize the entire free world during the 1940's.

As if I could live on words and dreams and a million screams
Oh, how I need a hand in mine to feel.

11/27/2006 10:00:00 AM | Comments (0)

Additional notes, in post form. Because I put a character limit on the tagboard to prevent shenanigannary.

First off, regarding Kramer's career suicide...I actually first heard about it in the elevator up to the office on Monday. I have these super posh elevators at work that have little screens that flash miscellaneous Associated Press article highlights, stock tickers, and all that stuff. I only caught a brief headline, which was something to the effect of "Michael Richards goes on racist tirade in LA comedy club." So my reaction at the time was just of a "Heh, oh that Kramer - what will he do next?" nature.

Turned out it was a bit worse than I thought...but let's be honest here, his career's already over. The characters were too powerful, the show was too good - they couldn't break the typecast. Did anyone ever watch The Michael Richards Show? I did. It was terrible. Same with Bob Patterson and Watching Ellie, aka "22". (...actually I'm the only one that called it that.) Although Elaine did have pre-Seinfeld success as a prominent SNL cast member and did win an Emmy for The New Adventures of Old Christine post 'feld. And at least George will always have Duckman (I loved that show!) as an external piece of work he can be proud of. Michael Richards? I'm sorry to say it, but to me, he died as Kramer back in '98.

It's probably better that way.

Next - the 30 Rock girl, Katie Bowden? Absolutely ridiculous, especially in the "Jack The Writer" episode. And seems to have an uncanny resemblence to Christine Taylor. Is it just me? Anyway, turns out Christine Taylor is yet another woman that fits the profile of my disturbingly specific fetishism. The criteria are as follows...

1) Must be blonde.
2) Must be over 35.
3) Must have an appearance in Spin City.

I'm not ashamed to admit that my tastes are very specific. Also, all three criterion must be met to qualify - I don't have just a blonde fetish, a Spin City fetish, or an old woman festish. Don't meet all three, THEN FORGET 'EM! I can't explain these things, so don't ask for an explanation.

Here's how it works - the more you qualify, the hotter you are. So by my count, here are all the women that are subject to my particular fetishism, as of press time. (I love that word, "fetishism")

Heather Locklear - Top of the list for not only meeting all three criterions, but absolutely crushing them. I'm guessing she's the prototype of this fetish, what the critera were based on from the start.

Courtney Thorne-Smith - I believe she was like a District Attorney or a city lawyer or something that Michael J Fox dated for an episode. Also, she is very blonde and was in Melrose Place - the more similarities to the prototype, the higher up the list you go. Unfortunately, According To Jim is a terrible show.

Christine Taylor - Just turned 35 this year, and I am surprised to discover through her IMDB page that she was in one episode of Spin City, as Heather Locklear's sister (that is hot!), which Michael J Fox also dated. Prior to my discovery that she appeared in a 22 minute episode of a sitcom in 2000? I knew her as Ben Stiller's wife, a fringe Frat Pack member. Afterwards? A full out fetish, just like that, on like a switch.

...uh...that's it. You could say I'm pretty picky about these things.

Of course, considering that Spin City is no longer with us, that leaves a definite limit of 35+ year-old blondes out there left for me. I may have to update some criterion or sub in a new underrated, underappreciated, yet hilarious sitcom in there. If only I knew one of those...

Also, for those of you keeping track (I know I am!), Michael J Fox as Mike Flaherty has banged all the women on my list (yes, all...three), travelled back in time, hosted SNL, completely owned Scrubs for two episodes, and has been the voice for three Stuart Litte movies. Yup, the only other person that has stolen more of my dreams is Derek Jeter. Even though he lost the MVP, I know in my heart that it should have been him, because Morneau was only the fourth best player on even just the Twins (Santana, Mauer, Nathan), and baseball is completely retarded anyway.

The Italians have a saying, Lemon - "keep your friends close, your enemies closer" - and although they've never won a war or mass produced a decent car, in this area they are correct. In five years we'll all either be working for him...or be dead by his hand.

11/21/2006 08:23:00 PM | Comments (0)

I Even Have A Column In "Ebony" Called Musings

Niggas Die 4 Me - Drag-On ft. DMX

Randomness!

* If you're curious, today's post title is brought to you by the friendly folks over at 30 Rock. I would be surprised if Brian wasn't watching this show since it stars our favourite nerdita, Tina Fey. *swoon* The show isn't perfect yet, but the cast is good and the plots have been solid. The latest episode, concerning an allegedly illiterate Tracy Morgan and a camera shy Alec Baldwin, was the best one yet. Oh yeah, and this girl is in it. Give it a shot if you haven't already.

* I'm sure everyone's heard about this ugly incident with Kramer at the Laugh Factory. Ah, geez. I'm glad I'm posting this instead of William, because I'm sure he'd have some snide comment to make here. I'm kind of bummed out by it. However, I'll maintain my usual policy that a former idol's current transgressions do nothing to diminish the triumphs of the past. It's a point of view that has allowed me to painlessly enjoy old Michael Jackson songs, the original Star Wars trilogy and Vince Carter highlights from his tenure with the Raptors. Plus, I'm pretty sure that he's high as a kite. Isn't it sad that that relieves me? It's like, "Come on, that's not the real Michael Richards! It's just the cocaine talking!" Phew. Good to know. I should mention that he did apologize on Letterman on Monday night via satellite, if that makes anyone feel better.

* Finally got to watch some movies over the weekend, eh? Stranger Than Fiction was funny and well acted. Will Ferrell showed some impressive chops, though my favourite "comic actor goes dramatic" performance still goes to Adam Sandler in Punch-Drunk Love. Jim Carrey in Eternal Sunshine Of The Spotless Mind is a close second. I've got a thing for Maggie Gyllenhaal now. Yet another example that it is so much more important in movies to be likeable and attractive than just "hot". Though for the record, I would still do Jessica Alba in the butt.

Casino Royale was also a fine film. Strangely, it gets better the more I think about it. I remember walking out and thinking, "Yeah, really good." I've been thinking about it ever since. Daniel Craig was incredible. I'm not sure it was a "Christian Bale as Batman" kind of revelation, but then again, I don't know James Bond as well as I do Batman. So if you're a hardcore Bond fan, you can tell me how good he was. I could have done with less poker scenes (yes, I know that's the main plot of the film). There's only so many times I can watch people staring at each other and flipping cards over. Bond movies are rarely my cup of tea, especially since the pacing never feels quite right to me. The first half hour of this film is as good as it gets, but then it slows way down. This is like a lot of the recent Bond movies. That said, the strong performances and direction carry this one as far as it has to go.

* Personally? Nothing noteworthy has happened recently. Work, work, work. Class, class, class. Work, work, work. Look to the heavens for an answer that never comes. Class, class, class. Subway. Sleep.

I wish I had more to offer.

You know what they say: "Don't worry, be happy."
Bobby McFerrin raped my grandmother.

11/21/2006 02:53:00 AM | Comments (0)

Some ad agencies down in Latin America keep spamming the tagboard, and I think I'm just going to ban all access from that region of the world. It's a fairly simple two step process. First step is figuring out if that's even possible. Second step is doing it. It's that easy.

Yesterday I called my parents to tell them to have dinner without me, because work would be keeping me late. Which happens, and it's nothing unusual. But I think yesterday was the first time I lied about it. I had a busy day, but nothing I needed to put in extra hours for. I just didn't want to go home yet.

I commute through the Sheppard subway line sometimes when I'm feeling lazy, and on the way home , I bought a Cinnabon at Sheppard Station. It actually surprised me a bit in realizing that it was for the first time, because it's something that I've always wanted to do for approximately the last five years, but just never did...until yesterday. I was behind this man who bought a pack of four, broke a twenty, and requested that his change consist of a lot of quarters. For whatever reason I will never know. And when he was done, he turned around and thanked me. Confused, I asked "...for what?" And he just shrugged and said "For waiting." And the whole experience affected me profoundly, but in what way I don't really know.

It always kinda bums me out when I come out of the subway station on the way home from school or work and there's no sunshine. I walked up five flights of stairs to my car on the roof of the parking garage, and I just sat in my car and ate my Cinnabon. And I don't know if you know this, but eating a Cinnabon without a fork and knife is very messy.

I must have gotten some sugar on my nose or face, because when I eventually got home, my parents jokingly asked if I was doing drugs. Which would have made sense if it was powdered sugar...but it was like sticky icing sugar...so it actually could have been a completely unrelated question. I'll never know, because I didn't really want to go down that line of conversation with them.

Sometimes I'm happy and eager to run out of the office...but then when I realize that I don't really have anything exciting to look forward to waiting for me at home, I find that my pace just inexplicably slows a step. Should a normal, happy life feature evenings where I sit alone in my car, eating a Cinnabon with my bare fingers? On one hand, it seems kinda quaint, some cute quirky thing that's a byproduct of my amazingly spontaneous and unique personality. On the other hand...it just seems straight up depressing.

And I can't really figure it out. I mean...after all, I do constantly day dream about the subway hopping a track and killing me instantly whenever I commute home, which would certainly seem to be indicative of some sort of depression-related mindset.

...but then...you know...Cinnabons are really goddamn tasty.

So there's that.

11/16/2006 04:33:00 PM | Comments (0)

I really question the moves humanity has made in recent times.

For instance, when you teach a chimpanzee how to play Ms. Pacman and how to high-five someone...really, why not just hand the control of the world over to them, save some time?

I, for one, welcome our new pill-popping, ghost-gunning, feces-flinging overlords.

Would you like some Merlot? I make it in the toilet.

11/11/2006 10:53:00 PM | Comments (0)

Very tired today, not a lot of time for chatting of chittery nature. I must get you to the links as soon as possible. GO FORTH FROM HERE POST-HASTE!

- Will It Blend? I guess so. So now let me ask you a question. What kind of disturbed human being could possibly need or desire such a ridiculous level of power (IT'S OVER NINE THOUSAAAAND!!!!!1111) in a fucking BLENDER? Did you see that shot of the crowbar in the opening montage? Why!?! Why is this necessary!?!

- Direct link, so get that right mouse button ready! *ahem* "Dey ATE ME! A motherfuckin' shark ATE ME!!!"

- By the way, I want to add this to my previous post regarding heart exploding delicacies.

- All the details you could ever want (and yet more!) regarding the K-Fed divorce. Yes, "the K-Fed divorce", not "the Britney divorce". Like him or not, you cannot deny that he has since become an bigger story than Britney over the last two years. I almost feel bad for him. ...and then I realized that he got paid over three million dollars to have sex with Britney Spears while she was still attractive. And then I don't feel so bad for him anymore.

By the way, Britney Spears is divorcing Kevin Federline, in case that bit of news somehow snuck past you in a cardboard box. Happens to the best.

- Generic angry video game related rant. There's actually a video without the images and the Resident Evil font from this GameStop: After Hours bit, and it's approximately fifteen billion times less funny.

- The "Crossfire" Song: Live - the second last "you'll get caught up in the...crooooossfiiiiiiyaaaaaahuh" bit straight up kills me. Now imagine how it would have been if you didn't see the title of the video and you had no idea it was coming. Indeed JenniPowell, ladies - how does he do it?

This is glass dust - don't breathe this!

11/09/2006 12:49:00 AM | Comments (0)

Thanks Giving

High - Feeder

You'll never know how close you guys were to being subjected to a super, super depressing post. I've got it all written down in my, er, diary. I was even going to use an Emily Haines song as the soundtrack for it. Fortunately, things got better, mostly due to the efforts of my peoples. So instead of getting an angsty "emo" (I hate that term so much) post, you'll be getting a sappy thank you post. Lucky you.

Thanks to Julius for taking some time to chill out with me on Thursday, even though I'm sure he had other things to do. I had just been blown off by Alyssa so I was kind of pissy. He sat there while I whined about that and the usual "oh woe is me, where is my life going" bull-crap. It was one of those conversations where immediately after it was over I felt a strange combination of embarrassment and relief.

Thanks to my other university friends for trying to get me to come out to a nice dinner on Thursday. It wasn't necessarily for my birthday, but they were working the schedule around my class time. For once, I wasn't avoiding them. I legitimately had too much work to do that night and couldn't party. I'm sure they had a good time without me and I hope they don't think less of me for not going, if that's even possible.

Thanks to Shirley and Gary for calling me on Friday and Sunday respectively. One was a day early, the other a day late but regardless of the timing I am grateful. The funny thing is that these are two people who should never worry about having to remind me that they're around. Even though I see them with less and less regularity every year, I never feel as if our continuity suffers for one second. I was hanging out with Gary and William last week and it was the same as it ever was. Some might say that's not a good thing, but it suits me fine.

Thanks to Jess, Max and William for the usual. You guys know that I hate doing stuff on my birthday and I'm glad you never insist that we do anything besides sit around the house, play card games and watch Van Helsing.

Thanks to my parents for not judging their son for sleeping on the couch on Friday night, for paying for the pizza on Saturday night and for letting me sleep until three o'clock in the afternoon on Sunday. Like they could have stopped me anyway.

Thanks to Christopher Nolan, Christian Bale, Hugh Jackman, Scarlett Johannson, Michael Caine et al. for making The Prestige. Brilliant and sexy.

Thanks to Annia and Ted for joining the festivities. Annia was fun company during the movie, especially since she had no idea what was going on half the time. She was the "what's going on? who's that guy? what did that guy say when I said 'who's that guy'?" person in the theatre. It was made all the more amusing by my constant ooh-ing and aah-ing as I pieced the movie together in my head, which drove her crazy. She's the best.

I'm sure I'm leaving something or someone out, but you get the idea. It's been good times for the last couple of days. Oh yeah, and then there was this:

Hey Alex,

wow it seems like forever since I last saw you. This could partially be because time at Food Basics passes by extremely slowly. It's only November, and I have already heard so many threats and under-the-breath comments from cashiers that it has beaten the old record. I'd say that everyone from Food Basics misses you, but everyone there is new now, so there is only a selective few that actually miss that soul-less, sarcastic sense of humor that is uniquely yours. LOL I hope you've been doing well. I'm just writing this e-mail to wish you a Happy Birthday (yes, I know your birthday was yesterday, but sorry I got home from work and was tired and forgot to write this e-mail). Anyway, I hope that you had a fantastic birthday, and that you partied hardy!!! I think I'm the only person my age who actually uses the phrase "party hardy", but oh well, I know I'm still cool (rolls eyes).

I'm sorry this is not a fancy e-card, or that I didn't call to wish you a happy birthday, but I haven't talked to you in so long, random unexpected calling from ex-Food Basics employee seemed a little weird. However, there is nothing wrong with a random unexpected e-mail!! In my head it all makes sense. :P

Ok well again, Happy Belated Birthday and I hope you had a great day!!

- Adriana, ex-cashier buddy!!

Despite the poor grammar, I remain touched by this gesture. Damn it. I knew there was a reason that I regretted leaving Food Basics.

So there you are. You've got a nice girl and a clean apartment.
Yep. There's one liiiittle problem.
Sexual?
Yeeeaaah. Well, I've never really felt confident in, uh, one particular aspect.
Below the equator?
Yeah.
Nobody does. You know, nobody knows what to do. You just close your eyes and you hope for the best. I really think they're happy if you just make an effort.
I-I don't know. Last time I got the tap.
You got the tap?
You know, you're going along, you think everything's all right and all of a sudden you get that tap. You know it's like *pfffff*, alright that's enough, you're through.
The tap is tough.
It's like the manager coming out and asking you for the ball.

11/06/2006 12:59:00 AM | Comments (0)

I posted the beer battered deep fried bacon double quarter pounder link some time ago, but now I have found the perfect beverage to wash it down with.

New Coke!

And finally, in case you would still be alive after those two, here is the angel of mercy that will deliver you to the Hell of gluttony...

MEAT CAKE

Just looking at the pictures made me vomit. Glorious, delicious vomit.

"Ugh, I can actually hear you getting fatter."

11/01/2006 11:00:00 PM | Comments (0)

A nice thank you to Shirley for buying last night's Death Cab For Cutie tickets for Max, a thanks to Max for buying them for AL, and a thanks to AL for giving them to me. It goes to show that a lot of people are involved everyday in keeping me happy - a fact that is never lost on me. And by "never" I of course mean "always". Please find blurry pictures of poor quality from my camera in the link below. Unfortunately the two camera videos I took were of unrecoverable quality.

THY LINKETH FOR THOU CLICKETH

Bonus Halloween post!

I was so proud of myself for finally being able to cut sugar out of my coffee today, thinking I had finally turned the corner and on my way to a healthy lifestyle. And then we had this Halloween celebration at work where I devoured a pack of Sour Cherry Blasters, Sour Patch Kids, a roll of Rockets, two chocolate cup cakes adorned with gummy worms, and a corner piece of rectangular Halloween cake (the type with the 110% sugar icing), washed down with three cups of punch that was probably 1% water, 1% orange Kool-Aid, and 98% sugar - all within the span of seven minutes. How did I ever not develop diabetes as a child? I regularly consumed like four pounds of candy every October 31st when I was but a wee lad. I must have had an insane metabolism that I have since lost, because I think I can actually feel my kidneys seizing up and destroying themselves.

I'm still not sure if they should even be allowed to recognize Halloween in the office at big companies, because it's against my religion and offensive to me to acknowledge - much less celebrate - the existence of witches and demons. And by "witches and demons" I of course mean "clowns".

Also, some advice - don't ever eat a pack of Sour Patch Kids directly from your pocket. Despite what you may have heard, warm and sour are indeed not two great tastes that taste great together. In fact, I found it to be the exact opposite. The tasty chemicals must have somehow oxidated when they reacted with my body heat, a reaction that - obviously - produced yucky oxide molecules as a product. Don't question me, I have a UofT Chemistry minor, and these findings can be found in any high school Wonka Chemistry textbook.

"Elaine, alright where's the SP2000? 'cause I gotta slice."
"Ah, I forgot it. I gotta get home."
"Ok, I'll go with you."
"Um, I'm not actually going straight home...I have to first stop at the uh...circus. You know, with all the...CLOWNS."
"Oh, well...you have fun."

11/01/2006 12:30:00 AM | Comments (0)