01 December 2009

Ode to Potatoes

Potatoes are delicious
they make me feel so full
and they're cost efficient
without them I don't know what I'd do

Baked, fried, roasted, mashed
when I'm sober or when I'm trashed

Russet, red, Yukon Gold
Hot out the oven, the next morning cold
Lightly flavored or seasoned bold
Potatoes you rock!

20 November 2009

The Pros and Cons of Living at Home

Several months ago I had the great misfortune of moving back into my parent's house. It has been quite an experience, so I decided to make a list of the pros and cons:
Pro: My dad always has beer in the fridge 
Con: He gets angry when people drink his beer
Pro: I have younger siblings on whom to blame the missing beer

Pro: My pothead sisters smoke me out all the time
Con: It’s really awkward and unsettling to be high around my parents
Pro: My dad pays for munchies

Pro: I don’t have to buy my own groceries or cook my own meals
Con: Meals tend to be meat-based
Pro: I get drunk easier on an empty stomach

Con: I have to help my mom with her homework
Pro: I get compensated in wine
Con: My father gives me daily lectures about my alcoholism

Con: My parents treat me like a child
Pro: I'm taking this opportunity to relive my youth in a more exciting and rebellious manner
Con: As a result my parents hate me

Pro: The parents give me gas money
Con: I have to drive their kids everywhere

Pro: I finally have a reliable internet connection
Con: My computer-incompetent father constantly asks me to look up random crap

Pro: My many sisters keep me entertained
Con: I sleep on a trundle bed in my 15 year old sister’s room

Pro: Every day I am forced to engage in conversation and be social 
Con: Every day I am forced to engage in conversation and be social

18 November 2009

Two, In Case One Dies


It was our second day on the resort in Cancun, the first real day of our vacation as the previous day consisted mostly of traveling and getting settled in our rooms. The air was humid and the sun was beating down hard on our pale, sun-deprived bodies. To keep cool we spent most of the day floating in the ocean. We had intertubes so that our bottoms were submerged in the crisp clear water, but our faces and arms at liberty to enjoy the free drinks. It was still early, not quite 1:00, so I had just begun sipping my third beverage.

Surprisingly, my father had managed to become quite inebriated at such an early an hour. He is not much of a drinker so I was not expecting this by any means. He's a chatty feller in any case, but alcohol seems to escalate his loquaciousness. Unaware of his current state I mistakenly floated into his vicinity, and that’s when it happened. He cornered me, right there in the middle of the Gulf. I don’t know how it is possible to corner someone in the middle of an ocean, but this guy is good--he has a presence that is impossible to escape. Immediately he began to lecture me on life, work, and most importantly, success. "It doesn't matter what you do in life, just make sure you're the best at it. I don't care if you dig holes for a living, if you're best goddamn hole-digger around you're gonna get hired and you're gonna make good money. The key is to get yourself educated,” he advised me. He then went on to extol the benefits of education, “you went college, you have the power to do anything you want now. Once you have that degree you can get any job out there, you won’t have to work too hard and you’ll still earn a great living.”

This guy was killing the small buzz I had managed to acquire and I just wanted to get the hell out of there. I should have agreed with him in hopes that he would release me, but irritated by the forced interaction and his complete ignorance (and perhaps more affected by the alcohol than I had thought), I instead found myself contradicting him. “Well, actually a bachelor’s degree doesn’t hold the same weight that it used to,” I began. “And to be honest, I’m not opposed to hard work. Plus, I have no real desire to earn an excessive amount of money. I’d just like to have enough to support a comfortable, simple lifestyle…and burgeoning drinking habit” I added with a smile.

This angered him, “you’re young, you don’t know what you want!” He argued. “Just think of all you could afford with a high paying job. Hell, you can have a condo on the beaches of Cancun!” I looked at him annoyed and puzzled, hadn’t I just informed him that I had no desire for such extravagances? But he didn’t notice me and went on to devise a plan for his own escape into life on the beaches of Mexico. Slowly he moved his head back and forth surveying the shore. "I'm looking around at all these people working hard on this resort" he started. "You've got the waitresses walking around in the hot sun getting people drinks, the jet-ski men tuning up the jet ski’s, the boat drivers taking people parasailing. All these people working hard, and you know who's making the most money?” I shook my head indicating that I was not aware. “The man walking around the beach with that goddamn iguana!” He answered. “People are willing to pay an arm and a leg to get their picture taken with a goddamn iguana. I'm gonna buy a goddamn iguana! Hell, I'm gonna get two, in case one dies!" Then with a smile and in a tone of conviction, "that's what I'm gonna do, get myself two iguanas and move to Mexico."

Baffled by his soliloquy, I stared out toward the shore speechless and praying that he was through. I saw that my sisters were still splashing around in the tide. Upon seeing me stuck in conversation with my father they had been thrown into fits of laughter. Now finally able to compose themselves they recognized my anguish and called out to me, “come on, we’re going to the swim-up bar!” Thank God, I needed a fucking drink after that.

24 February 2009

Letter to Jameson

Dear Jameson,
 
I am writing to congratulate you on your very successful advertisement campaign. For it is very successful indeed, this morning I purchased my first bottle of Jameson. You see, everyday on the subway to and from work I am forced to gaze upon your ads lining the border of the car and all I want to do is sip a nice glass of Jameson. I don’t even drink whiskey. In fact I don’t drink at all, or haven’t in over 10 years; that’s right I’m a recovering alcoholic. But after reading your ads twice a day, five days a week, for the past several weeks I could no longer restrain myself. All day at work I would fantasize about whiskey, then read the ads repeatedly on my way home from work. Upon arriving at my apartment I would settle down for dinner but the food provided no sustenance, it could not come close to the satisfaction I knew I would obtain from the smooth burn of your whiskey. At night I’d have dreams of bathing in a tub of Jameson, only to wake up cold and longing for the sweet, sweet buzz I so pleasantly enjoyed in my slumber. So finally, this morning I caved, hit up the local liquor store before work and took swigs from the brown paper bag on the train. I gained such satisfaction from the warm liquor sliding down my throat. Now, half a bottle later, I sit at my desk in the office sipping the remainder of the whiskey from a paper coffee cup. Maybe its because it does go well with that song playing in my headphones, maybe its because those adds did give me a break when I was sitting in the map seat, maybe its because I am weak willed; whatever the reason, Jameson, you have won.