Saturday, March 22, 2008

Food Stuff

I have been informed that I am remiss in updating my blog. Nothing could be further from the truth! First of all, this has been one of my most active months ever for blogging, and there is still a whole week left! And second, nothing has happened. It isn’t that I haven’t been reporting, it is just that there has been nothing to report. Following my last weekend of debauchery, the combination of too much alcohol and the saliva of strangers, left me the worse for wear. Since then I have spent the bulk of this week not wanting to leave my bed, let alone hit the town. So unless the image of me queasy in bed reluctantly watching The View go downhill is important to you, you haven’t missed anything.

This has been a week of pulling back the reins. I went off the rails a bit last weekend because I had been keeping myself pure for science. As everyone knows, I am participating in this anti-aging program and as part of it, I am routinely tested to make sure my organs aren’t exploding. While some celebrity participants in the program may use the benefits of it as an excuse to do enormous amounts of drugs and not die, I like to at least keep up the veneer of clean living when blood testing time comes around.

So for weeks, there was no alcohol and only special occasion visits to my beloved Taco Bell. But since my blood was taken last week, I indulged in a spicy Baconator with large fries and a Pibb Xtra at Wendy’s and a weekend of non-stop booze. My body was ill-prepared for the shock of it all and you have seen the hermit-like existence it has driven me to since. Then on Wednesday, the worst news ever, my blood test was screwed up and I need to do it again next week. So now I am back on the path to purity, which is a living hell for a junk food junkie like me.

The alcohol part hasn’t been that bad. I had been slowly pulling myself off anyway. Unfortunately with my radio hours and the confines of gay social life in Manhattan, going to bars is just about all anyone is in the mood for at ten o’clock at night when I stop working. I don’t mind being the sober one there, but not drinking does make going to a bar seem increasingly less appealing. But since I am already trying not to drink soda either, I end up looking like a depressing recovering alcoholic with a bottle of water in my hand or worse the only lame person still doing ecstasy on a weeknight.

The food part is much harder for me. My addiction to ice cream is legendary. It is rare when there are fewer than two different flavors in the freezer at any given time. I am also a big fan of pudding. And pretty much any kind of pie. Really I think it is fat that I love. Martha Stewart is right. Fat is what makes food taste good. I like tasty food, which means I like fatty food. The fact that my metabolism has long allowed me to keep up this pace does not necessarily mean it’s a good idea. I might still be thin, but that doesn’t mean I won’t drop dead from it.

Going to the supermarket is the worst. The products are designed to play directly to our darkest desires. At my market, as Roommate pointed out, the kid toys and books are in the sugar cereal aisle. Makes sense. That’s just smart marketing. How about my favorite recent innovation: Ready To Eat Cheesecake Filling. Who makes that? Satan? They have even given up implying that you are going to put it in a crust and serve it to other people. The name alone screams “consume alone in bathrobe.” Don’t even bother moving a smaller portion out of the tub into a bowl. Just put a gravy ladle into the container and enjoy. You know you are going to eat it like that anyway.

Sunday is Easter which for some people means a nice spiral ham and some potatoes au gratin. For me it means peeps and chocolate. At the office today, Mike offered up some Butterfinger eggs and Reese’s peanut butter cups. I politely took one from him, but later when everyone had gone home, I returned to the scene of the crime and grabbed another pair of each to eat alone at my desk. Bathrobe not included.

Now I am on the train home, knowing full well that I should just have a nice salad before bed and not finish off the mint chip ice cream in the freezer. But there is only one bowl left, so why not? Plus, I am depressed at the death earlier today of our microwave oven. If it isn’t replaced tomorrow, there is a real threat in my house of actually starving to death. Or worse: prolonging hunger while things are heated up on the stove the old fashioned way. It doesn’t help matters that on the crowded train, two women just squeezed into my seats with me carrying hot steaming bags of Popeye’s chicken for the cruel, long journey home. It’s torture really, but I suppose it won’t kill me, the way eating Popeye’s actually might.

Barton was on the show this week talking about Global Colors and how he helps people who are quite literally starving in third world countries. People whose lives are genuinely difficult, not just filled with vacuous angst like mine. You know, people in war-torn, impoverished nations with a reason to cry themselves to sleep. Not histrionic, pampered homos who are so used to getting their way always that the moment they have to do something they don’t want to, they throw a temper tantrum better suited to kindergarten before naptime than a dignified grown adult person. His story about buying cows for a village in Africa nearly moved me to tears but it wasn’t the same brand of tears that welled up in my eyes at the smell of Popeye’s. What can I say? I am a pig. I love food. I am sorry there are people starving and I give and I help when I can. I do want an end to world hunger and while we are at it, I would like a Big Bacon Classic, an order of fries and a chocolate frosty to go. Thanks. I’ll just pull up to the window and wait. Don’t mind the bathrobe.

3 comments:

CW said...

histrionic, pampered homos who are so used to getting their way always that the moment they have to do something they don’t want to, they throw a temper tantrum better suited to kindergarten before naptime than a dignified grown adult person

If only you knew how much we love reading this stuff. Maybe for you "nothing is happening", but for us your daily musings are like a tub of gourmet Godiva ice cream.

Heidi said...

I've had the day from hell packing up this house so we can move on down to the west side...which doesn't mean much here in Phoenix, just means you have to drive past a freeway. So, I finally get a minute here to relax and what do I do...immediately open you blog and read because it gives me a good chuckle in an otherwise nasty day. I'll just say Thank you and go back to whining about my sore muscles.

Heidi

jimyvr said...

Have you ever thought about possibly participating The Global Colours?