• Being afraid of your lunch

    So I’ve beaten the yogurt issue to death? You’ve got something better to do with your time? Go ahead, read another site. OOOO! I’m so scared.
    Which is worse: cold or cure?
    Are you going to eat that?
    My keys to a good cup of yogurt
    Good sense will only take me so far
    I am a Yogurt everyman

    I’ve been given a hard time, on several fronts, for a little thing called fear. Fear of the unknown. Fear of the unexpected. Fear of yogurt that is a little more “alive” than I would like. Methinks “fear” is too strong a word for what I felt. I prefer “reasonably cautious,” but others disagree. Perchance, dear reader, you could review my story and decide for yourself?

    As previously mentioned, we were fresh out of juice last week. Or was it the week before last? In either case, the power was out and Cheryl had engaged in a day long struggle with the elements to save our perishables. Back and forth she went, from our home to my in-law’s, carting our refrigerated goods around town in search of someplace cold. Each trip lasted fifteen minutes, meaning our food never went more than twenty removed from it’s chilled haven. Ah, but what about that yogurt, you may ask? Everyone swore it would be fine, but I wasn’t convinced. Four heating and cooling cycles sounded like four too many to me. I wouldn’t give those cultured bastards a leg to stand on, let alone twenty minutes at a pop to get their flagella lined up. So there I was at work one day last week, staring at my lunch, suffering the ridicule of my coworkers – afraid of a container of yogurt.

    I’ve had food poisoning. Anyone who’s had food poisoning has, at one time in his or her life, supported a patient’s right to die. That rosy color to my cheeks is a sign that my gastro-intestinal system is operating normally. I’d just as soon keep it that way.

    The yogurt went in the trash. I lived off Snickers Bars from the vending machine for a week. I still have a tremor occasionally, while my body burns off the excess sugar – but I’d trade clear liquids and bland foods for a case of the shakes any day of the week.

  • That sucking sound you hear is my patience being drawn out through my eyeballs

    Have you ever had one of those mornings where you knew deep down that you still loved your child, but boarding school seemed like an attractive option?

  • It’s all about the choice

    It was a perfectly splendid evening. Had it stayed that way, chances are good you’d be surfing the web’s wave to greener pastures right now. We were just finishing a thoroughly enjoyable episode of The Daily Show (courtesy of the tres cool DVR), when Cheryl offered her Hobson’s Choice of household drudgery. “So, do you want to start the dishwasher or take care of the laundry?” Loosely translated into King’s English, this means: “Carry thy arse to the galley and scrub down the finery, then meet me in our chambers to stow the remainder of the laundry.”

    And this right before bedtime? How am I supposed to sleep now? Damn that wife of mine!

    – Author’s note: while King’s English it may not be… I’d settle for mildly amusing to thee.