Friday, August 30, 2013

Gimme Eat!

I ended last week's post by saying that I was going to pour my sixth bowl of Lucky Charms. If I must be completely honest, I haven't had a bowl of Lucky Charms in years. It's a dietary thing. You know, it's all about Wholesome Steel-Cut oats, now.

Still, I have my lapses. Recently, I had to stop for fast food. I say "had to" because there weren't many other options. Fast food is just gross. And I say "gross" in the kindest sense of the word. While waiting in line, I was amazed at the manner in which customers ordered their food: "gimme three Whoppers", or, "I need a bacon double cheeseburger."



Uhn excuse me, but did you recently get plunked from a life-raft adrift at sea or something? It may smell like it, but it certainly doesn't look like it. No. I dare say you don't need that revolting McRib sandwich any more than we need to see you lick its tangy sauce from your plump, sausage-like fingers.

Look, take a little pride in yourself. Finger-comb that greasy mop you call hair. Pull those damn shorts over your filthy underwear, and tuck in that pit-stained bro-tank. For goodness sake, pull yourself up by your shit-caked boot straps. And while you're at it, try saying please every now and then.This is 'Merica after all, dag gummit.

To be fair, I was once like that. Well, even then, it was extremely rare when I skipped showering (with soap) before going out in public. And though my clothes may have been wrinkled, at least they smelled reasonably fresh. What I'm trying to say is that while I took some measures to project an otherwise clean outward appearance, I used to pollute my body with fast food fairly regularly.

The beginning of the end of all that started years ago when I brought a sack of Wendy's back to work for lunch. As I tore open the paper wrapper surrounding a double cheeseburger, I caught my colleague, Seamus Walsh, staring at me with a certain look of disgust. Now, Seamus was somewhat of an an all-natural body builder/fitness freak. He was a purist, especially when it came to nutrition. Put it this way: he considered a can of Chicken of the Sea® Tuna, in water, as junk food. Anyway, just as I was about to mouw into that burger, Seamus puts down his Beefcake 2000 protein shake (2 scoops mixed in with organic non GMO soy milk, bananas, raspberries, kumquats, egg whites and wheat grass) and rhetorically asks, "You're going to put THAT in your body?"

Too late. I destroyed it in about 20 seconds. And it was delicious. Never mind how gross I felt afterward.

But Seamus' words that day had the effect of planting a seed in my brain. It took some time, and a lot of bacon double-cheeseburgers, but miraculously, that seed germinated and took root. I nurtured its early growth by replacing commercially-prepared foods with more raw ingredients, fresh fruits and produce. I began substituting frequently dining out with dining in. After awhile, I started giving up the really bad stuff altogether. Like donuts. Cheese. And, my gosh, even pork. I still abstain from pork today. Pork chops? Nope. Ham? Bacon?!? Nope-nope. At this point, everybody can wave goodbye to Rafal Doloto, for he just unfollowed this blog.

It took time, but I was finally able to go for long stretches without any fast food at all. For many years even.

Inevitably, I capitulated on the fast food thing. I'd like to say it was due to inconvenience. In a sense, it was. I found it too inconvenient to live life without french fries. The Irish love their potatoes. So now we make occasional visits to a few fast food joints. My wife's indulgence is KFC. She can have her nasty, finger-lickin' chicken so long as she doesn't give me the stink-eye when I shovel McDonalds French fries down my pie hole.

So that brings me to my typical lunch. Aside from the Thursday Taco truck ride, I pack my lunch most days of the week. And let me tell you, my packed lunch is so awesome that it borders on obnoxious. It's like the lunch scene from the Breakfast Club (1985) where the athlete, Andrew Clark, unpacks a grocery sack of about 12,000 Kcal worth of grub, the prissy Claire has sushi, and the geek, Brian Johnson, has PBJ with the crusts cut-off. Well my lunch is a smorgasbord of all three characters combined.

So here's my lunch today:

Without a doubt, the heaviest item each day in my messenger bag is not a laptop.

It's my lunch. It also occupies the most space.  Then, there's what's on the inside. Oh, my, just marvel with me what goodies awaits the lunch hour! Besides the sandwich and veggie-straws, there are:

In season-fruits and vegetables --  grapes, blackberries, blueberries and raspberries often make the list; 'cukes, red and yellow Zima tomatoes -- even an avocado made it on the menu today.

Now, having a lunch like this draws attention. In fact, I do believe that my colleagues both admire and hate me because of my fantastic lunches.

You'd think that the fresh fruit, or the sliced avocado would send them in a tizzy.

Wrong. It's the citrus-infused, Brita®-filtered water that drives them bananas.

My colleagues often tell me that my nutrition habits are inspirational. I don't know. I try not to think about what else is going into my water when I'm not around.

Speaking of being not around, Happy Labor Day weekend, everyone. Ciao.


  1. Hey - that reminds me. Have fun on your bike race Sunday. Try not to drown before or get captured afterwards. If you're still tapiring [sic], I am thinking about just throwing in 60 or 70 easy miles (Warning: Rule 24 breach) tomorrow. Let me know.

  2. If you relax rule #24 this weekend, then I suppose I can relax rule #42. By the way, I'll be trying not to drown for 0.932057 miles, pedaling for 21,872.266 fathoms, and trying not to get caught by a bear for 3.24077929 x 10n-13 parsecs.

    Given all of that, I'll need to rest tomorrow. But I should be good to go on Monday.

  3. Wait - is the bear going to be driving the Millennium Falcon or something? Well, rest up. If you need to go out drinking tomorrow night in order to get some sleep, let me know.

    Oh yeah - and Monday sounds good.

  4. Last time I went for a fast food stop (I won't mention the franchise name) I wasn't in the mood for a runza, so I decided to order their home made cheeseburger. They proceeded to tell me in the drive-thru that they were out of cheese and would I like a hamburger instead. As I got to the window to pay for my now downgraded hamburger, they asked how my day was. I told them it would be better if I had more cheese in my life, as my daughters made a great effort to hide in the back seat of the car. However, when I got home, I did have a cheeseburger, so my complaining seemed to help. Of course, I wonder what kind of special sauce they may have applied to the meal....

  5. Whoa! The Real Wes J has materialized from parts unknown and left us a comment. What a glorious day this is. Wes J, give me some lottery numbers, for I'm feeling fortunate!

    Thanks for the comment, Wes J. As for your burger, I'm sure your sauce was, um, special indeed. Let me guess, your daughter refused her meal.

    Hey Fred, I got a comment from Wes J. Neener Neener!

  6. I remember that day. For some reason that was the day I got fired from a certain franchise for um, "questionable sanitation practices". Out of cheese, indeed.

  7. It probably was cheese that had fell on the floor and had properly been disposed of, until the wise guy made a comment. "You want cheese, we got your cheese"