Irritable Male Syndrome

Sunday, April 22, 2007

A few minutes ago I was laying on my bed, eating sunflower seeds, sucking back some swill in a bottle and watching crappy Sunday night teevee, when I came across a show called "I eat 33,000 calories a day" on TLC.

I didn't see any of the people that ate even half that, but still--holy crap! It's probably every bit of a disease as binging and purging, but at what point do the postives of eating 15 deep fried chickens--lightly rolled in crisco, butter and packets of raw sugar--outweigh the negatives?

Not only is the inevitable weight gain(which might be a secondary or even tertiarty concern here), but how many times can one plug the shitter before enough is enough? If I ate even 5,000 calories a day, I'd be taking dumps the size of planets, complete with their own gravitational pull.. It might not be a Jupiter or Saturn, but Pluto or Mars, easily.

Also, how do the bed-ridden people get the money to pay for all this food? There's got to be a point where there's just no more money for food, right? You lay in bed all day, with no job to report to, therefore have zero income. Food stamps only go so far. Another question; who makes all this food for them? If a person is too lazy to leave their bed to eat, they sure in the hell aren't going to be putting forth the effort to make the 13 meals a day they require.

Just wonderin'.


I left work early on Friday and partook in a wee bit o' geo-geekery. Um, that means caching. I ended up over by Theodore Wirth Park on the western edge of Minneapolis. I'd say that if I hadn't picked up this little hobby, I never would've seen all the cool little areas this city has to offer, and that's downright sad.

One little story; growing up, The Chipmunks were always the epitome of creepy for me. They walked upright and sang Christmas songs, for fuck's sake! Don't even begin to tell me you were not the slightest bit leery of that.

Anyhow, back to Theo Wirth Park. I was trying to dislodge a particular cache container--in this instance, a tupperware container covered in camo duct tape. Classy!--from a hole in the end of a fallen log with a stick that was laying on the ground. It was tougher than it sounds.

Just a little sidenote; As a grown man(shut up!), I still have two huge fears that go back to childhood; deep, dark water, and sticking my hand in a hole in the ground, a tree, or something similar. Both fears have to do with not knowing waiting for me in the space I cannot see. Hell, there could Great White below me in the lake, or a cute, furry animal just waiting to gnaw my arm off to the pit in that hole in the ground.  Hey, you never know! That's my admission for the day. All I ask is that you is not to tease.

I'm digging the cache out, and just as it's about the become free from it's stumpular confines, a cute little devil-hued chipmunk, complete witha mohawk, pitchfork and fire shooting from his eyes decided it was time to scoot past me and into the hollow trunk. It was moving pretty fast, but I'm sure it made stabbing motions on it's way inside, it was just that evil.

As something that is approximately 2 billion times the size of a rodent, It's awfully vagtastic of me to be that jumpy around said rodent. Maybe not so much afraid, but I've seen the movies; those little fuckers aim for the face and latch until one of us succumbs. A chipmunk fight is a fight to the death, I'm much too pretty to not be worried that it's going to choose my ear as it's last meal.

I assure that whatever chunks of flesh you get from me, young Alvin, will be the last flesh you ever taste. I have big shoe and know how to punt, just so you know.

I backed up a little to sign the log(the paper in the cache), and it was at that very moment the chipmunk decided to come out of the log and confront me. He jumped straight up in the air, landed on two feet with all of the agility of a teensy, brown-clad ninja, chirped something that I'm sure meant "Get away from my home, and leave my bitch alone, beyotch.". I'm not fluent in chipmunk and the audio was dubbed horriby, but that was close enough for me. Warning heeded, my friend.

He chirped at me again, this time it sounded like just a chirp oddly enough, and then slowly circled my perimeter while eyeing me the entire time, finally darting out of sight, to call in reinforcements, I sure.  I put the cache back from whence it came, and slowly walked backwards out of the woods, keeping my gaze firmly fixed on that stump.

I understand the need for an animal to defend it's territory when it feels it's being threatened, but the stink eye was a bit overdramatic, don't you think? Even for a spaz like me.


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