The Thing About My Weight

I have a confession to make:  I starve myself.  Periodically.  But not because I’m an anorexic teenager in high school, but because I’m a high school wrestler.  113 pounds– the weight limit I must constantly drop to in order wrestle that weight class.  Now, if I were to take those 113 pounds of meat-sack and convert it into gold, I would be worth 3,616,000 dollars– that’s 46,471,747.20 pesos!  Ay carumba!  I’m not, although, like a mesh of toothpicks refusing to eat so that her thighs don’t touch as she struts down the catwalk.  It’s only cut about 1-3 pounds.  Nonetheless, I am always hungry.  Like, about-to-eat-off-my-foot-and-my-neighbor’s-foot-hungry.  Like, I’m-going-to-write-a-ton-of-stories-on-my-blog-centered-around-food-hungry.  Seriously, when I’m out of season, I don’t usually inscribe a lengthy tale on how amazing bacon-guacamole-Nutella-bacon would be as it melts away in my mouth, encasing it in a warm, creamy, crunchy, scrumptiously luscious– AHH!  I have to stop!  I just wish all that gold I’m worth could be golden-foiled-wrapped chocolate instead…

Speaking of which, does anyone actually happen to be selling 46,417,747.20 pesos worth of chocolate?  With Nutella, preferably?  Because I’m prepared to sell my foot for it.

It’s the struggle.

Bacon Jam and Avocado Grilled Cheese Sandwich 500 4611



If I Were to be Stranded on an Alien Planet…

I, for some unannounced reason, would only bring five different plants:

I.  Avocados– Gotta have that guac-ah-moh-lay.

II.  Tomatoes– You can’t make guacamole without it.

III.  Corn– I need some corn chips to hold the guac, don’t I?

IV.  Oranges– OJ is the only way (unless it is followed by the name “Simpson”).

V.  The now comatose orphan I hit with my Prius the other day–

I need my VEGETABLES, right?

Oh, bad jokes.


My Favorite Martian

A martian is probably the most cliche alien used by pop culture.  I don’t know how many times I’ve seen the martians’ brains explode from the sound of Slim Whitman’s Indian Love Call from “Mars Attacks!”.  There are so many other galaxies with so many other aliens– take the Parrot-Kangaroos of the Andromeda galaxy for example.  They’re nice to talk to, and can lead the most intriguing conversations about water polo and Nicholas Cage movies, but should never be brought to parties (alcohol doesn’t mix well with the likes of them.  I know from experience).  Yet still the red rock only a few hundred million miles away captures our fantasies.  Well, I am enchanted with a species even closer.

There is a (relatively) huge, vast planet radiant with a blue glow.  It has existed for billions of years, but sentient life has inhabited it for only several thousands.  This life-form has done many things; equally bad and good.  Hopefully more good as time goes on.  They have fought, destroyed, wept, built, and loved.  Their path is constantly obscured, and even lost to some individuals– but never gone.  What is it that we can learn from their story?  Their message– their virtue is indeed the most cliche there is.  I have learned from them to live, laugh, and love.  It fits, though, for their story is as overused as any.  It is the story of humanity– the story of us.

And sometimes Parrot-Kangaroos.Image