Wednesday, November 16, 2011

On My Own For Dinner

I don't think my wife heard me drop the phone and do a back flip while fist-pumping when she told me I was on my own for dinner this Monday.

Little does she know, I'd rather be 'on my own' for dinner than 'on a plane' to Vegas. I love being on my own for dinner.

Being on my own for dinner means that I don't have to eat Kale or Water Chestnuts.

On the rare occasion that my wife gets home from work 2 hours later than me, I hold a comprehensive orgy of animal fat and alcohol. Remember how the Titanic broke in half while sinking and water poured into the vessel, dragging it into the bottom of the ocean? That's what I do with food when my wife gets home late.

I start with Nutty Bars purchased in the office vending machine. Then, I get Mighty Pack on my way home. I usually eat the first taco out of the Drive-Thru girl's hand as she is passing it into my car. Then I drive 4 miles without ever once looking out the windshield. I'm busy scooping soft shelled tacos from the passenger seat into my throat. Shredded lettuce covers the driver's seat like Ticker-Tape in the street on New Year's Eve.

As soon as I get home I drink a beer. I spend 35 minutes in the front window, drinking beer and hoping that she doesn't pull into the driveway. Drinking beer quickly usually makes me hungry, so I find my stash of Chip-A-Hoys in the garage and go to town.

I hide food.

I have to hide food because, if I don't hide food, the tastiest thing in my house I would get to eat would be 98% lean hamburger. I dip Chip-A-Hoys in milk and quickly eat them while looking out the window, like a squirrel.

By the way, drinking milk shortly after drinking beer sucks. It's not ideal, but that's the process. Please don't question the process. In fact, no more questions at all. You're making me lose my train of thought.

I love Chip-A-Hoys and will never stop eating Chip-A-Hoys no matter how much my wife tries to turn me into a waif of air that only consumes pollen.

If Jessica Alba came to my front door and told me that her body temperature was dropping and she needed me to put down my Chip-A-Hoy and hug her naked body with my naked body to keep her alive, I would. I don't like Chip-A-Hoy's that much. I'm not going to let Jessica Alba die because I'm eating a cookie. Please be clear though, I really enjoy eating Chip-A-Hoys.

When I'm done with the Mighty Taco, the beer, the Chip-A-Hoys and the milk, I find stray deer in the woods and run them down. Once I've captured a deer, I smother it in Tequila, Bar-B-Que and Magic Shell Chocolate and then I deep fry it and consume it whole.

Then I drink some Peppermint Tea because it's really good for soothing your stomach.

There are so many commas in this blog.

Tuesday, November 8, 2011

Applebees Will Test Your Marriage

We ate out at Applebees the other night and my wife woke up at 3 o’clock in the morning to throw up Applebees into our toilet. So, I dutifully rushed to her side to hold her hair back as she was passing her insides through her esophagus.

This will really test your relationship because, as she was throwing up, my wife farted on me. The smell could best be described as 'deadly'.

The smell actually wove its way into the fibers of my shirt, like syrup into the divots of a waffle, and I had to go to our other bathroom to throw up. I had to throw the shirt away because Tide has yet to develop a product that would power out that noxious emanation.

They don’t show you the video clip of this happening in those “Every kiss begins with Kay” commercials.

Those commercials always feature two attractive people sitting by a fire, not blasting fire from their ass onto their spouse while emptying their organs into a toilet. I’ll bet they’d sell less diamonds if they showed you what really happens with true love.

Every kiss might begin with Kay, but it ends with your wife's ass turning into a Roman Candle as she shits her pants while making a noise that sounds like someone dragging a cat across a chain link fence.

And Applebees left this out of their advertising as well. I think their slogan should be “Make your wife so sick that she poisons your lungs and makes your shirt unusable with air.”

Instead, they went with “Eating Good in the neighborhood". There should be a disclaimer.