Archive for March, 2011

I have come to the conclusion in the last week that my education is in dire need of upgrading, my body is in dire need of a good work-out routine and my love life is in dire need…well I just need a love life. Also I need a big fancy new laptop to compensate for my other shortcomings. I can’t buy a Camaro so more Ram will just have to do (any and all puns intended, baby).

Sadly, most of this is on hold waiting for the all important tax return from the government. The problem being I am not known for my patience so I am checking my accounts daily waiting for a wad of cash to appear like magic. In the mean time I am eating ichiban noodles for dinner and hiding in my apartment watching movies (cause at least that doesn’t require any money.) I may go to my parents tomorrow night for free food and laundry. I probably shouldn’t have to do that at this point in life but bite me, that 8gb ram upgrade isn’t going to pay for itself and my place charges $4 a load to do laundry. All the Dad’s Laundromat and Bistro requires is I play the ABSOLUTE WORST CARD GAME EVER and do a few dishes.Turns out that only after leaving do I realize how good I had it at home.

Still, the benefit of living on my own is I can type this up in the living room while wearing boxers. I suppose I could have done that while living back home but it would have lead to some awkwardness. Among other things my father never put curtains up in the living room. Every neighbor walking by would see me typing in my Haynes. 


Day 3 of my healthy life was a wash out. Ended up skipping lunch till 3pm when my friend took pity on me and ordered us up a pizza. As much as I felt bad for eating it, after opening and scanning and receiving a severe bum load of new iPads I was ready to resort to eating the bottle of mystery pickles in the back of the work fridge anyway.  To ease my guilt I bought a salad from Safeway for dinner. Not bad, had some chicken and cheese and for some reason corn in with it.

Day 4 was pretty good. Despite work deciding to lay out a large spread of pizza, chips, dip and cookies I managed to carve out 30 minutes in the day to walk to a Subway and get a salad instead. Wasn’t too bad either, I would have one from them again.

Day 5 went a little wild with a brunch out but in the end the food came to the table cold and wasn’t all that great anyway. So sort of a moral victory as I probably will find a better place for brunch next time, perhaps with some sort of healthy alternatives. Plus the meal will probably have to be all I get till dinner so if I top it off with a salad tonight it won’t be the worst thing I have done in a day.

Rancid Monke

Day 2 of my journey to health was not bad. In order to be assessed by my trainer I had to do a few things though. The lack of caffeine being the one that will have lead to my co-workers resignations. I am up to about 3 diet colas a day and going cold turkey is a bad idea. Usually it leads to that lack of caffeine headache that ends up making me a sheer pleasure to work with. 

Anyway, after being grumpy, cranky, angry, surly and finally pissy I managed to get over to the gym. Changed clothes in a room full of ripped guys (always good for the self-esteem) and met with the trainer. Long story short he is a good chap with a hint of an east coast accent and seems to be genuinely interested in seeing me get healthy (possibly because he wants to get paid).

Did some basic tests to see how far gone I am and then set up an appointment to actually get me started. Works for me.

Rancid Monke

Southgate Mall Food Court – I have to say, this is the closest I have ever been to using an executive washroom.  The stalls were spacious and had a nice dark wood veneer.  The stall was nicely tiled and had no graffiti (although this did leave me with nothing to read). There was a little shelf behind the toilet to place my bags or coat or firearms or what have you.  The sink had hands-free soap dispensers, and hands-free taps to prevent me having to associate with other people’s bacteria.  They had hand dryers which is still a cruel trick to play on your patrons but at least they were the high speed ones that sound like a jet engine, plus it turns out they have hands free paper towel dispensers over top of the sinks that I was just to transfixed to notice.  All in all it was a tip top experience and my only regret was that I didn’t bring a book.  I really recommend that if you plan on stopping by this bathroom that you do so before the unwashed masses have sullied it with bawdy limericks and requests to call a certain number for a good time.  Also take the time to enjoy it, bring the kids, pack a lunch, make a day of it.

West Edmonton Mall by the Security Office and the Exit to the Buses –  This one used to be a bit more classy but after existing in West Ed for so long it lost some of it’s shine and gained more than a little graffiti.  Still when nature calls mid shopping trip you could do a lot worse. So right off the bat I usually skip the regular stalls.  There is only enough space to enter, drop trou, do your business and  exit.  Luckily the handicapped stall(or differently abled or handi capable…whatever offends you the least) was designed for people bringing their own hospital bed.  You could park a smart car in there and still get around it.  Some might consider it in poor taste to use a handicapped stall but I figure the statistical likelihood that someone in a wheelchair shows up in that particular washroom at the precise moment I am sitting there is small enough that I will do my business in peace and comfort thank you very much.  So far that has only backfired on me once and I was lucky enough to sneak out while his back was turned.

Any Public Washroom Downtown – Just pee your pants…it will be more sanitary.

Whyte Ave – Even the municipal government has given up and agreed that you may as well pee in the street.  It was certainly nice of them to drop off the Rubbermaid urinals, but odds are most bar patrons will still just find the closest wall, lamp post or mailbox.  This is why all my pay stubs from the last job ended up smudged and soggy.

I guess I will update this as I continue on my quest for bladder relief.  Any comments or suggestions for top flight public restrooms are more than welcome.

Rancid Monke

I have carb-loaded to an unhealthy amount this morning and I am waiting for my body to reject the generous gift of high octane fried food I gave it.  I fully planned on making a batch of cookies right now but the thought of it is making my stomach twitch in distress.  So as I sit here digesting, I figured it was the perfect time to describe the perfect food court meal.  Perhaps my sub-conscious knows I have been bad and is assigning this as penance.

Sadly you can’t get everything in one spot and forget about combo pricing.  Still, as a man who has eaten his way from unhealthy to a walking testament to the evils of trans-fats, I feel I am the perfect authority to guide you on this trip.  If my body can be likened to a temple (and I am sure it can) it would probably be broken down, overgrown, musty smelling and dedicated to the God of cooking with animal fat and drinks you can make out of powdered crystals.

The Perfect Food Court Meal

The Burger: Dairy Queen Bacon Cheese Grill Burger – There are very few burgers available out of a kiosk in the mall that taste anything like what I can accomplish at home with a pack of ground beef and a propane BBQ.  DQ is about the closest to actually tasting like a cow may have been involved at some point.  It fills the hole in your stomach with something burger shaped and hints at complex concepts like bacon and cheese being present (perhaps only metaphysically), which is about all you can ask for without eating in a place with table cloths.  This may not sound like a ringing endorsement but consider the alternatives.  The fries don’t excite me but fries never really do.  Thus we move on to.

The Side Dish: Arby’s Loaded Potato Bites – So some genius in the Arby’s test kitchen decided to add cheese and bacon bits to the stuff inside tater tots (which I often hope is potatoes).  Then they are breaded in…something and deep fried.  They come in 5 packs but get real, your headed for a full 10 pack box.  They serve this culinary perfection with ranch dip and a hint of guilt.  You know it can’t be good for you but you just can’t work up the energy to care.  Dry your salty and starch filled tears and let’s replenish our fluids.

The Drink: Fresca – It’s carbonated grapefruit pop.  Stop pretending like your above such things.  I am not saying cola is bad, I am just saying this is better.  I currently have a 2 litre of this stuff sitting behind me and it is taking all my strength not to crack it open and enjoy the bubbly grapefruit goodness.  Plus many places have it as a fountain drink now.  They had it on tap at the freakin’ Costco lunch counter.  Next, what meal would be complete without a little hardcore sugar fix?

The Dessert: DQ Blizzard – By this point your feeling bloated and even your elastic-waist sweat pants are feeling a little tight, so why even bother with dessert? Mostly because your not good at pattern recognition but also because ice cream sort of feels soothing after a heavy meal…unless you have lactose issues like I do.  Not matter how you justify it, soft serve ice cream and the crushed candy bar of your choice is probably not going to be the part of the meal you regret, at least until you finish eating it and are forced to explore a food court bathroom.

Rancid Monke

Why are there no fat doctors? Why do all medical professionals to do with weight loss and diet always so damn healthy? See, I truly don’t think you can understand what it is to be fat until you’ve been there. I want to talk to the doctor that understands the simple joys of pounding back a double bacon cheese burger with large fries and washing it down with coloured sugar water. Even if he was just a reformed chubster, someone who knows that it takes all my willpower not to buy a chocolate bar every single freakin’ time I enter a convenience store. At least then I could talk to him on common ground.

Don’t get me wrong I love my doctor, great guy, but every time I see him he feels a need to tell me I need to lose weight. Like somehow the fat creeped up on me in the middle of the night and I hadn’t noticed yet. I’m not bitter at him for it, just confused. Does he think the fat is blocking my higher brain functions and only his timely input can help me realize I am overweight. For a man with a PHD (I assume he has one?) he sure isn’t always firing on all cylinders.

Then he asks about my diet. Just in case I am a miracle person who got fat off a vegan diet, like it is my crippling addiction to tofu that is causing my weight problems. Well doc, I eat meat, meat and more meat (mostly battered and deep fried) and then if I haven’t achieved some sort of rampaging unstoppable bowel movement by the end of the meal I might try for a hint of carbs or perhaps a limp piece of lettuce I found cowering in the back of the fridge. At this point most people get all coy and try to dress up the poor choices they make in terms of food. I just look him in the eye and say “You know what a McGangbang is? 2 of those per lunch…with fries and chicken nuggets as a chaser.”

Anyway, the visit to the doctor was in aid of going to the gym to reverse the 30 odd years of Zellers hamburgers and onion rings (god, there burgers were sub-par but those ladies sure did know how to deep fry an onion ring). Undoubtedly the lack of fried food and excess of sweat will push me to write another angry pointless rant. So stay tuned if that is your thing. If not, then bite me.

Rancid Monke