Since my attempts at fiction are received with all the enthusiasm usually reserved for recitations of the tax codes dealing with depreciation and amortization of capital equipment delivered in monotone in a sensory deprivation chamber, I thought I’d go back to ye olde journal entries.
It was even topical fiction! About Valentine’s Day, for Pete’s sake!
But stats don’t lie. The people have spoken.
Ye olde Vox Populi.
Vox Populi don’t like no backtalk or sass.
Here’s an apple update. No, not the kind of update that bricks your phone for an hour. No, this is much more boring than that.
You may remember a couple of weeks ago that I wrote about giving up Peanut M&Ms and instead attempting to eat healthy food, such as apples. I got off to a slow, messy start. Well, I’m happy to report that after two weeks of really sticking to it (or getting really sticky), I am getting to where I actually enjoy eating apples at work. I slice them up at home using my handy-dandy apple slicer, toss the resulting wedges into a Ziploc® baggie, and into my ice-packed lunch bag. Today at around 2:30 or so, I actually found myself looking forward to having my apple break.
I never thought I’d see this day! I thought I was permanently and hopelessly addicted to Peanut M&Ms® and Coke®. But I am now living proof that bad habits can be kicked.
Also, I’ve never thought about starting a food blog, but apparently they are very popular. So here is my first attempt:
Grab an apple. Slice. Eat. Wash hands afterwards. And for the record, I like Jazz™ apples. They are sweet, but not too sweet, and tart, but not too tart, and they have a very satisfying crunch. 9/10 would recommend. As a little bear is on record as saying, “They are just right.”
History is littered with people who were tempted by apples, and I am no better than they, except I’d rather be tempted by apple payola than actual apples. So if anyone at the Jazz™ apple corporation would like to send a little payola my way, I am very receptive to the idea. I have PayPal if that helps any.
Since the winter Olympics are going on with alacrity in South Korea even as I write this, it is a popular blog topic among us bloggers to talk about which events we would participate in if we had been born to rich, good-looking families in Colorado rather than into working class families who’s idea of sports consisted mostly trying to get in enough hours at work to feed their families.
So, after watching hours and hours of commercials broken up with brief snippets of luge, skeleton, biathlons, speed skating, figure skating, snowboarding, etc., I have come to a momentous decision about which sport I would best be suited for.
I think I could be that guy that sets up all the tiny little lane markers on the speed skating rink. My personality is just compulsive enough that I wouldn’t mind painstakingly placing them at very precise intervals, and yet I have enough situational awareness to get out of the way when the skaters come around the bend at a high rate of speed. It’s a win/win.
Or, Plan B, I’m pretty sure I could totally nail having one of those little tables that hands out hot chocolate to people. I have never been able to figure out if they get paid for that or if it is just a free service that the Olympic committee pays for because they’re all about altruism and just doing things because it’s the right thing to do. But even if it is just a gratis service I’m sure the actual doler-outers probably get some small remuneration, like maybe some of those cool plastic Olympic coins that they hand out for souvenirs, or maybe an official Olympic toque (left over from the 1976 Olympics in Innsbruck, Austria, and slightly irregular due to a supernumerary pom).
It’s like they say: Dream Big! Dream Often!