MikeMiller

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I received a firm example of just how uneducated I am yesterday. Yesterday's word of the day was caustic. Why caustic you ask? Well, since you asked so nicely I will tell you! I was told that my sense of humor was very caustic. Now you have to realize I was educated in the south, which means I was pretty much a victim of the local educational system…so I had to go online to try to figure out what this new word meant…  

caus·tic ( kô'stĭk) adj.: 1. Capable of burning, corroding, dissolving, or eating away by chemical action. 2.Corrosive and bitingly trenchant; cutting.  

Okay…firstly I am observant enough that know I was not on fire at that moment, nor was I dissolving, so scratch out number 1. Secondly I haven't the slightest idea what trenchant means, and looking it up just meant possibly discovering another word that I do not know. It's very much the vicious cycle. So after reading this I was even more confused than I was before being enlightened by dictionary.com. So…I am left with quiet a quandary. Go back and ask the person who made this comment (which apparently had a more suitable education than I) what they meant, which means perpetuating the southern stereotype of being ignorant. Or conversely I could ask the people here (who already know I need a helmet) to explain it to me. So, I've decided on the second option. So could anyone shed some light on this little perplexing situation? I am anxiously waiting to be educated!
 

Wow…almost 2 years without a post. Time to fix that. So I’ve been in SoCal for over 2 years now and I have to say its great…for the most part. It is only lacking one thing that is oh so crucial to my happiness, the one thing that can make me smile no matter would horrible my day has been, the one thing I am not sure how I have lived without for this long…dirty Chinese buffets. Sigh…I miss them so much.

Those of you from the south are going to have to back me up here. You know the kind. The ones where you walk in the door, put your $5 down, and have as much non-Asian “Chinese” as you can stomach. It’s the only place in the world where you can see green jello, next to barbecue chicken, next to Lo Mein…and you can have as much or as little of any of it as you want. I’m not really sure why dirty, greasy, cheap Chinese food in buffet form has not caught on here in health-conscience Southern California….but this is one southern boy who is praying for them to see the light!  

Stay tuned for my next blog entitled “Why is the closest Cracker Barrel in Oklahoma?!?”

Okay, so since everyone seems to enjoy laughing at my expense so much, I thought I'd post another vivid illustration of my ignorance. The day after my little incident with Ike and Tina I saw an ad that was for another roomie situation. The girl was in college and renting out the 2^nd room of the apartment. So, again I made the phone call. She seemed to be a reserved sort of girl, kind of shy even. Which lead me to believe she would probably be a quiet roommate who kept to herself.

So, as before I made plans to go see the place. In talking to her on the phone she told me that she wanted to rent the place out as soon as possible, because she was planning on vacationing with her family. Being southern and just brimming with conversational hospitality, I inquired as to where she was vacationing. She seemed happy enough to talk about it and told me that they were planning a trip to Vietnam . Umm…I don't have the most sought after geography skills in the world, but I do know enough that Vietnam isn't really an ideal vacation spot. So I opened my mouth with the intention of saying something like this: "Oh that sounds interesting! That is an unusual choice…what will you be doing while your there?" But what actually came out of my mouth was "Why in the hell would you want to vacation in Vietnam ?!?" I wasn't sure if it was my choice to use the word "hell" as an adjective or perhaps my tone…but she got quiet and changed the subject.

Oh well, I thought, I'll just go look at the place and take it from there. So I pulled into the parking lot, made my way to the door, and gave it a slight tap. At this point in the story I feel I should pause and give you all a little background on the area I am from. Diversity in my hometown means having a Baptist and a Pentecostal both shopping in Wal-mart at the same time. The town is about 99.9% Caucasian…the .1% minority being made up solely of the 68 year old woman on the other end of town that smokes 3 packs a day and tans 4…so we are not totally sure she is actually Caucasian. So, back to the story. I hear her unlock the door, it creaks open and there stands a 4'8 Vietnamese girl. I suddenly realized why the hell anyone would vacation in Vietnam. In that moment I developed a sense of remorse for ever laughing a Jethro and his Beverly Hillbilly ways…it’s just not that funny when it’s you.

You know what sucks? You don’t? Okay…I tell you. Randomly running into people you had hoped to never see again. It happened to me this morning in Starbucks. Hmm…some back story is required here. Okay, before we begin you all have to promise that there will be no laughing at my expense. Deal? Deal.

Alright, when I arrived here I was looking strictly for a roommate situation. I replied to an ad for a month to month, 2 bedroom apartment, full house privileges, bedroom with a private bath etc. I spoke with the lady on the phone; she seemed nice enough, down to earth, in her mid-40's maybe. The location and price sounded good so I went to have a look. She was very sociable; we stood at the front door and talked for a minute before she showed me the place. So my thinking was "this could really work". She shows me the living room, the kitchen, the bath…everything is looking good, and then we came to the room she was renting out…it still had someone's stuff in it. She then says "oh, this is my boyfriend's stuff, but don't worry…we just broke up and he is moving out." 

At this point I've already decided…this is not the place for me, definitely not about the get involved in this drama. I'm a considerate guy though, so I let her show me the rest of the place. We then end up back into the living room. I am standing by the front door, thanking her for taking the time to show me the place when suddenly the front door comes flying open, hitting me in the side… enter the ex-boyfriend. (Or at least soon to be ex-boyfriend.) You see apparently he didn't know they were breaking up, nor did he know he was moving out. So the next thing I hear is a very loud and angry voice…saying this: " SEE! I KNEW IT! WHO THE HELL IS THIS???" Now I'm no expert in social etiquette… but I recognize a good time to move towards the door when it presents it's self. So I wished Ike and Tina a pleasant and productive domestic disturbance and made my way back to my truck. At this point I was questioning moving to southern California .

So this morning I am patiently waiting for my Iced Venti Quad Non-fat No Whip Maple Macchiato ~gasp~ and I look up and there she is. Before she even opened her mouth I just knew this was gonna be awkward…and it was. It’s enough to make me miss the south….where we keep our dysfunctional relationships behind closed doors, rather than kicking them open!

I saw something yesterday that proved to me, without a shadow of doubt that God does in fact have a sense of humor! I can almost feel your anticipation to hear this (or is that my anticipation to tell you?) hmm…

Okay, all strapped in? Here we go. I was driving from work yesterday evening, 6:15 pm on the 405 freeway (which by the way, I believe that when you die, if you were not a good person here on earth, if you are the type that pushes ducks into the pond and such, …that's where you will spend eternity) So as we are moving at a spine jolting pace of 15 miles an hour and I look up to see a very odd truck in front of me. A truck the likes of which I have not seen since leaving Tennessee . It was one of those diesel guzzling trucks that is so ridiculously big as to inform everyone around that the driver must be making up for a lack of….well, something. Plastered all over the back of this truck are rebel flag stickers of every shape and size, along with several NASCAR flags and a Hobbs press-on (Why is that kid always either praying or pissing on something? but I digress). As if all this doesn't broadcast "Confederacy" loud enough, he also has a "Southern Pride" label across his tail gate.

At this point I had to look at my watch and make sure I was still on Pacific Time and that I hadn't been transported back to the south. Once I was sure that this was not the case I began to feel a new curiosity churning inside me. Had this 2 ton monstrosity been picked up and moved here to California , by a tornado perhaps? Had he driven into an alternate dimension and emerged here from the other side? Nay, fore you see; this prime specimen of southern elegance had a California tag....the mystery thickens! At this point I started to wonder if I've developed a sudden case of autism, because none of this was making any sense at all. I suddenly became overwhelmed with this urge to know what the driver looked like. If I had've been a cat the curiosity would have already given me an aneurism by now! So I politely cut off the person in the next lane and slowly began my accent into the unknown. My heart rate quickened as I got closer and closer…."finally!" I think to myself, "my curiously will be settled!" What I found actually took the breath from my lungs…This man, who I was sure was some parallel universe…was actually a 5'5 man of Asian descent. Okay…I'm sorry, but after that my brain just said, "You know what Michael, I'm putting in for some time off. If you need me I'll be at home in the tub having a glass of Port and contemplating my existence." So that is how I am having to spend my day…absent of any thought what so ever…I'm speechless. Well…maybe not speechless, I can still type apparently. ;)

Now that I am at a weight that I am comfortable with I have had a lot of time to think about my life as an obese individual. After much reflection I have found that my struggle with obesity can be traced back to just one thing…

Government Cheese

Yes, that’s right, government cheese. It’s a little known fact that there are a few definite perks to growing up as a welfare child. You can impress all your friends in lunch line by not having to pay for your food! Christmas means many many toys from charity toy drives (just be sure to wash them first, you don’t wanna catch any rich kid germs from the previous owners). Last, but certainly not least is the perfectly shaped chunk of lactose bliss that comes bundled in a cardboard box known as government cheese. They say that the best things in life are free…and this cheese of the gods is no exception. From the point that the first smooth morsel graced my lips…it was love.

This amazing dairy miracle was a Trojan Horse though…laying in wait like an out of shape ninja to make me fat. Through some research and facts that I made up for the blog entry I discovered the following…

 Fact I Made Up #1: Government cheese actually contains crack. Much like the kind you find in Chinese food. Not enough to make you strung out, but just enough to make you addicted.

Fact I Made Up #2: The government purposely increases the calorie count in this cheese. They do this by feeding the cows…you guessed it, expired government cheese.

 Fact I Made Up #3: Government cheese, much like chocolate, produces the same chemicals in your brain that love does. This explains why I still give it to love interest on Valentines Day.

So you may ask how I am making it through life now without my first love. Well, it’s by shear determination. Just deciding that I can’t have it and that I am strong enough to resist the beautiful siren call it gives off. That and the fact that I’m not poor enough to get it anymore! ~sigh~ I’ve looked for it on Ebay, on CraigsList, I’ve placed newspaper ads for it…and it’s just no where to be found. I’m worried that it may be lost to me forever. Sigh…such is love I suppose. If you love something you should let it go, and if it returns to you it means it was meant to be…please come back to me cheese.