Learn poop and water and you too can be a successful journalist!

I've determined that one of the easiest ways to live an interesting life is to not pay close attention to things going on around you.* My Thursday started by me getting ready to participate in a little charity cooking show for my company.


3 MONTHS AGO

A person asking me if I would be a chef for the show: "Are you comfortable in front of a few people?"

Me: "I've done up to 20 or so in a room, but not large audiences. They scare me."

Person: "You'll be fine."


3 MONTHS PASS

Last week I got an e-mail asking for a recipe, so stared at the ceiling**** and drew a blank for 10 minutes until out of frustration I typed "sauteed Tuna Steak and Salami."***** That should make them leave me alone, I thought.

Surprisingly, the e-mailer never even blinks. A day later I get asked for a short bio. Well, you can guess how that went down. It's a simple equation...

Draw blank + stare at ceiling = sarcastic response******

The day before, I get a brief meeting with head organizer person. I find out I have to bring my own cooking equipment. I think, "Gad.******* What a dinky show. I wonder if we're going to hold it in the home-economics room of the high school? I was close, I'll give myself that.



Thursday: I start by looking for my ten-inch saute pan. Instead, I find my gourmet ice cream scooper. I've been looking for that thing for months. It conducts your body heat right to the edges of the scoop, making the ice cream melt like butter. I shit you not. It's awesome.

However, I did not find the pan. I think it was kharma. Still, I'll take the trade. That scooper rocks.




I decided to celebrate with a quick breakfast of reddi-whip. Because I could.




My search for cookware led me to the basement where much of the stuff I brought back from Philly is still boxed. In a sense, I've never really unpacked since my ex-girlfriend and I broke up some two years ago. It was a fascinating process.

I discovered a whole life I had forgotten. For example, I apparently listened to the Grateful Dead. I hope I liked them. Of course, being a Grateful Dead fan means you can forget ever being a fan in the first place. I'm going on the Internet later in order to see what Jerry's up to. He cracks me up with all that neck-tie making and scuba diving.



I also discovered I had really nice things with the ex. Most of the shit I unboxed was top shelf. I remember her having somewhat expensive taste, but man, If this is what I got out of the break-up...she must have really made out.

I'm just happy there wasn't any Pottery Barn in my half. I hate the Pottery Barn. Oh, Williams-Sonoma? You can bite me, too.

I do however like those towels. When I first pulled them out, I was like whoever got these, these are nice. They have good taste. Then I was like, wait, these are mine! This is my box of stuff. Hey! What the hell else is down here?



Really expensive, really fucking blue dishware for 8, would be one example.




Cool, a carabiner from my spelunking days. Say it. Say it! SPELUNKER. Fun word. I got stuck in a cave once. I gained 20 pounds in the course of two years and tried to squeeze through a section of the cave known as the birth canal with a new, much larger ass..

It wasn't a good idea. One guy had to push on my legs while the other guy pulled on my arms. We ended up cutting my belt and pant loops off in order to squeeze me out. I spent much of the time (when not scared and breathing poorly from the tons of rock crushing my midsection) imitating William Shatner from Rescue 9-1-1.

"Tonight....a youngmanstuckinacaveinpennsylvania...can...he...be...saved before the beer in the cooler gets warm? find...out...tonight...onrescue9-1...1."

I did get out, by the way. And my claustrophobia was cured.



I also found my Star Trek official communicator badge. I am such a geek. We used to sit around drinking and I would touch my communicator (It actually still makes the noise. It was a gift, O.K? Old, old Girlfriend with a great sense of humor.) and say "Computer. More beer and chips!" See, this is funny, because there's a hologram room thingy in the show and we would pretend we were in the room...

Somebody fucking shoot me.



To make matters worse, Ladybug oven mitts. Where the hell did these come from? Maybe I can put them next to my 7 dozen giant scented candles. Once I found the candles I decided to make a shrine to Colin Farrel using the New World poster I won for being very good at looking stuff up on Wikipedia, but I couldn't find it. I wonder whatever happened to my poster? Hmmm.....

Damn, I was really looking forward to that shrine.



Hey, this was about 2 weeks too late. Or 50 weeks too early.

Me: Hello, Mr. Guinness glass.
Glass: You bastard! You drank my whole family before the St. Patrick's Day parade. You made one watch! You heartless...
Me: (sound of glass breaking) My bad, sorry. You're no ice cream scoop, bitch.



I finally got packed and ready to go. The handle you see is not my saute pan, but of my 14 inch deep dish skillet. I know you were wondering.




Oh, that's right. My fucking company decided to hold a networking lunch the same day. Great. I totally should have noticed that those dates were exactly the fucking same. I was busy not paying attention.




This was my lunch. It came in a BUCKET! A bucket. Of course, I still have the bucket. There were 25 business people eating out of buckets at this thing. It was hilarious. And the lunch included chips. Have you ever watched strangers open bags of chips at a business lunch with speakers? It was noon and I could have gone home happy for the rest of the week.

Also at the lunch were a bunch of journalism students from one of the local schools. Being in "Networking Power Lunch Company Job Guy" mode, I immediately cornered all six and terrified them.

Me: I'm here as a resource. Ask me anything you want to know about being a reporter. I can help you gain a clear advantage over others going into the real world with your same exact experience and resume.

All of them: (Looking around nervously)

Me: (Shifting to block the door) Seriously, ask me anything.

One of them: Well, what do you think can help me get a job?

Me: Learn poop and water. (And then I pause. Pause for a really long time. Empires rise. Empires fall. I make a lot of eye contact, as if this were a test.)

One of them: Oh. (Looks ready to cry. Seriously.)

Me: If you learn municipal authority structures and sewage authority structures, how they operate, where they get their funding, and how they run, you can get a job anywhere over anyone else with no experience.

Me again: (I open my chips in an explosion of crackling and laugh maniacally. Lunch ends)



I was rewarded for lunch with a lame blue bear to put on my desk, next to the desk mascot who is currently wearing my nose hose.

Time passes quickly when you don't have a freaking clue about where you're going and what you're supposed to be doing on any particular day.

We drove up to the school where the cooking show was taking place. It was slightly busy.

Me: Hey, is there a basketball game tonight? There's a lot of cars here.

Co-worker: (looking at me like I'm a fucking idiot {which I am} and not saying a word)

Me: I mean, they're parked on the grass, and everything...



Oh, shit. Hi 750 strangers. I hope you like Tuna and salami.

God, I suck. Well, at least I got to be on the auditorium stage by myself and followed around by two cameramen and a still photgrapher while I cooked my lame-ass dish. Even better, I was miked up and broadcast on widescreen TV for everyone to see and hear in microscopic detail.

As we speak, copies of my performance are being put up all over the web as viral video. Damn those A-V geeks! I don't suppose I could have embarassed myself any worse...




Wait, I can. This is the REAL celebrity chef and his staff. I was the loser opening chef for the rock star chef. So, before the show I was backstage and hanging with these people.

I have a pretty impressive food background, so I was a little cocky. I might possibly have been so loose, that I was ripping on him a little bit. And his culinary students.

The kids were pretty tense before getting out on the stage, so I was teasing them (as if I wasn't tense). But as I said, I was hanging and teasing the chef and just happened to glance at HIS bio for the first time as I was standing back there (definitely not a product of my personal sarcastic equation)

Me: (Reading aloud to myself) Cooked on tour for U2........cooked for Bill Gates.......cooked for...PRESIDENTS OF THE UNITED STATES...

Me: (Directly to the real chef) Holy shit! You're actually really talented! Seriously.



That was pretty much my night. Looking forward to seeing myself on VH-1's Viral Video. Above, real chefs. Doing cheffy stuff with actual recipes that don't involve tuna and salami, or any other two things you find in your refrigerator after a drinking binge and think would taste good together.



If you look closely, on the stage you can see me sucking. Apologies to K-Rock.




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*Unless it's the drive 'o death, then it's one of the easiest ways to live a very short life. Last week, a giant rat darted in front of my car. A woodland rat! Well, it could have been a large Shit-zhu (and whose grand idea was it take away whatever limited dignity** dogs have by making them smaller, a la Rick Moranis in 'Honey I Shrunk the Kids'***)



I didn't even know the woods could support rat life. They probably live off of the bodies of all the other animals I've hit. (Hey! Maybe he was just trying to thank me. Maybe I've become some kind of indispensable force to the rodent ecological system! Maybe the other rats were sacrificing one of their own to the big metal god that sustains them.)

I swear one day I'll document my drive in to work by photograph.


**Your dignity is limited if:

1. You can be fooled by someone throwing an IMAGINARY stick for hours in a row.
2. You can love your owner with all your heart even if he's Karl Rove.


***Look at what kind of damage shrinking has done to his career.

****I'm actually very busy on a daily basis. Otherwise, I'd really enjoy staring at the ceiling. I'm a simple guy.

*****Man, that one came around and bit me on the ass.

******But clearly not sarcastic enough to keep them from using it, damnit.

*******I really did think "gad." You should try it. It's a fun, clean, little change-up, you motherfuckers.