Thursday, September 9, 2010


I usually eat fairly healthy. It's one part vanity (I prefer clothes to hang, not curve) and two parts neuroticism. Say what you will about the public school system: I may not have learned math or science, but man, if I didn't learn the importance of a healthy lifestyle. Year after year we reviewed the Food guide pyramid and exercise regulations, and by the time high school graduation rolled around, I was brainwashed and believed that if I didn't run thirty miles a week and eat seven servings of green veggies a day, I would contract type II diabetes, become morbidly obese and die at age 25. Not long ago Stephen watched my naw on a raw green pepper and asked "Do you have some sort of vitamin deficiency?" Only paranoia. So anyway, often to the puzzlement of coworkers, family and friends, I'll eat cucumbers and almonds and the white part of orange peels. This works for me. I feel good. But then comes Thursday. Thursday is rough. Thursday is the day I skip the morning run. The day I roll out of bed at the last possible minute. It's the day I walk into work late, drink too much diet coke to try and kill the headache until I give in and take excedrin. And it's the day I go to In-N-Out. Because a cheeseburger animal style with fries is just what I need.


  1. Somtimes Jon will wolf down salad and carrots to stave off the inevitable truth that he will eat an obscene amount of oreos (average of half a package a day).

  2. Mmm. Cheeseburger Thursday. I want that.

  3. I remember when jess told me about you nawing on green peppers in latvia. haha


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