I am a terrible eater, filled with guilt and undoubtedly high cholesterol. I follow no sane creed for my consumption of food. I revel in the delight of salts and starches, treasuring golden crispness and sparkling sugars. Always figuring if it can’t be covered in chocolate, then it can be in gravy. I am that terrible eater who can disregard schedules of meals, and just set myself on a course of ‘continuous sporadic snacking’.
I have had chocolate candy as my lunch many times. And I do not eat candy like most respectable upstanding citizens of the world. I have the horrible tendency to open a package, and finish it in one sitting. A man of my tiny frame should not have the capabilities to put away an entire bag of fun size Snickers. That’s the bag you buy for Halloween, that’s supposed to be enough candy for the entire neighborhood, not one person! It seems to wholly contradict hundreds of years of biological and anatomical research. I can just imagine a scientist somewhere saying “Well, we though we had a good grasp on how the human body operates, then this little shit had to come along and eat a bunch of chocolate.”
Not too long ago, I ate an entire package of Hershey’s Cookies n Cream Easter Bunnies over the course of twenty minutes. The fact that they were Easter Bunnies can tell you when this occurred. (Subtle Hint: It was last Easter). Luckily I did not get a stomach ache. But oddly enough, and this is the true testament to how bad of a diet I have, a few months ago I made the decision that I should eat better. This decision lasted a day, or actually a single meal. I packed a lunch for work: sandwich, juice, and a bag of potato chips. I got so unbelievable sick. I guess that’s what I get for eating “good food”.
One thing that I cannot eat though is spice. It may come as a surprise to you, but this short, wired, neurotic man has a weak stomach for spice. My sister on the other hand I think given the chance, would pour molten lava in her morning coffee as a substitute for cream. She can eat anything spicy and keep her composure the same way a 67 year old fat Irish man can drink for thirteen straight hours and still reshingle his mother’s house. It’s just amazing. When we were kids, she used to get us to try and eat spicy foods. She must’ve had some great entertainment watching us. It’s an Allport gene to be able to eat really spicy food. I guess it skipped me. But I’m not alone, it skipped my brother Adam as well. In fact, one time when we were kids, the spice was too much for Adam and he actually dunked his head in a baby pool, eager for any sort of relief. But I’m serious when I say that my sister could drink lava, and I’m even more serious when I tell you that she would probably pour Frank’s Redhot on it as well. When I eat spicy food, my whole face sweats, and I feel like Ben Stiller in Along Came Polly.
I’m also not a big fan of TV dinner macaroni and cheese. I don’t think this warrants any discussion though, it’s just nasty. My meals come in a can form more and more today. I get home starving and tired from work, and it’s just too easy to open a can of Chef Boy R Dee or a can of chili and make some super pretzels. You always hear about ‘On The Go Food’, well I consider my canned meals to be ‘After The Go Food’ the kind of food that you need in five minutes because you plan on changing into your pajamas and taking your meal to bed with you because you’re so tired.
I do need to stop eating in bed though. It’s a mess. Especially when it’s canned ravioli or chili, or pretty much anything with tomato sauce.
I’m also slowly coming to the realization that two cups of coffee does not constitute ‘breakfast’.
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