Less Fiber, More Free Time

So, it’s officially spring and I couldn’t be happier. Spring signifies change, growth, development of personal and professional goals, and exposing my extremely pasty legs to the public for the first time in 6 months. This year, spring means much more to me because I just spent 6 months in crappy Indiana winter and at the first sight of the sun yesterday, I actually broke down a cried a little. Not so much because it was warm, but because I saw my legs in the mirror for the first time in half a year and can only imagine how frightening they look in public.

Speaking of change, I’ve started using hair conditioner. I’m told that by doing so, my hair will exhibit a shine and fullness that can only be rivaled by those hair club for men dudes. The only problem is I’m not used to the additional step of rinsing it out when I get ready in the morning. Last week, as I was getting ready for work and putting a bit of product in my hair, I realized something was different. My hair was greasy and slick so I immediately blamed the conditioner. Well, it was the conditioner in part, but mostly due to the fact that I hadn’t rinsed it out! Here I was, dressed and ready for work sans hair gel, and I’ve got a head full of greasy conditioner. So, I did my best to look like I hadn’t just squeezed a tub of Crisco on my head and went off to work. No good. By noon I felt like that Soul Glow dude from Coming to America. Ok, so maybe I’m taking this spring thing a bit too far.

Another area of change has been my eating habits. Recently, I purchased 6 cases of wine with the thinking that I will conquer my miseducation of all things vino. I even went to Pier 1 and bought one of those huge-ass hurricane vase things that wine people put their corks into for decoration (or to brag about how cool they are because they drink wine and you drink Gatorade). So, I break out my first bottle and it comes with a screw lid, not a cork. No worries, I still have 5 other cases and I’m certain after drinking all that wine, my hurricane vase will be filled with corks. Um, not exactly. Every single bottle in every single case has a screw lid and not a cork! WTF?! So, now my house looks less like something out of a Pottery Barn catalog and more like a frat house.

I’ve also started to eat more organic and fresh-grown foods which requires me to forego my traditional Wal-Mart shopping extravaganza and turn my attention to the likes of Whole Foods, Fresh Market, and Trader Joe’s. Let’s just say the differences smack you square in the hemp Birkenstocks from the moment you walk in the front door. The music, the employees, the incredible overbearing smell of……naturalness. But I’m also taken by how a lot of the foods I eat now have an organic counterpart. An organic counterpart that costs twice as much, but a counterpart nonetheless. Did you know that organic peanut butter looks like unshaken Italian salad dressing? These fresh grocery stores are like portals to 18th century Venice, with cobblestone sidewalks, chefs flipping pizza dough into the air, and guys named Giuseppe and Emrico asking if I’d like bottled or sparkling water with my order. I think I even saw a dude with a black and white stripped shirt steering a gondola in the seafood section.

Speaking of food, I was watching TV the other day and saw a commercial for the Olive Garden. What caught my attention wasn’t the all you can eat pasta for $13.99, but the announcer mentioning that all Olive Garden chefs are classically trained at some Itialian culinary institute deep in the hills of Italy. Are you kidding me?! You mean to tell me that in these rough economic times, the Olive Garden is sending that pimple-faced 17 year-old that warmed up some pasta in the microwave and topped with Ragu to Italy for “culinary training”? You may not believe this, Olive Garden, but I DON’T BUY IT! Next your going to tell me that the kid working the French fry machine at Burger King learned his craft after a rigorous 9-month training course in Paris.

I was talking to my friend Loren yesterday and after the standard greetings of what’s new and how’s work were out of the way she said, “Oh, guess what I did?” I figured spring concert tickets, maybe booked a vacation, or even a work promotion. All wrong. She proceeds to tell me that a week ago she hit a pedestrian with her car. What?! This is the kind of thing that you mention during the “what’s new” portion of the phone call…..not 15 minutes later! She then begins to recount the story of how this guy “jumped” in front of her hood and she “nudged” him with her bumper. In other words, she was tearing through the neighborhood while texting and drinking 3 cups of coffee all at once, and slammed into this pour guy trying to get from A to B on his bicycle. The worst part, she can barely get the story out because she’s laughing hysterically.

At what point do I just leave my phone on full ringer instead of vibrate? I was in a meeting last week and my phone went off and my vibrate sounds like a dump truck driving through the Civil War.

My favorite sign of spring is seeing that occasional Friday night bar hookup turn into the undeniable symbol of true and everlasting love – weddings. I have been invited to a few already and feel quite honored to be included in guest list. There was one invite recently that caught my attention. The envelope had all the marks of a typical wedding invitation; pink, fancy writing, the stamp wasn’t upside down, and that one sheet of clearish carbon paper that you always find inside. Noticing the return address, I’m feeling bad because this isn’t someone I feel like using up a Saturday afternoon on as he professes his undying love for whichever chick he convinced to marry him. I know, I’m so romantic. As I begin to read, I realize this isn’t a true invitation, but an announcement. An announcement of marriage and essentially a solicitation for $100 to “begin their lives together” with. Let me get this straight, you want a gift for a wedding that I’m not even invited to? Is this your way of telling me I’m important enough to give you a present, but not high ranking enough to enjoy some wedding cake and the open bar? So I do what anyone else would do: get pissed because I didn’t get an invite to a wedding I didn’t want to go to in the first place, unscrew a wine bottle and pour myself a glass, and send them a congratulations card with a piece of clearish carbon paper in it. I guess this is growing up!