Dont Mince Words

I’m riding the trend wave again. And I’m not talking about a passing fancy like bungie jumping, myspace networking, or miniskirts with leggings.

I’ve become one of them, without the Birkenstocks or patchouli oil. I’ve been a vegetarian for 100 days. And for shits and giggles, I decided to give up wheat, refined sugar (all hail the Splenda god), caffeine, and booze. Life without meat is easier than I thought because I still have eggs, cheese, and fish. I gave up bread a while ago, but now I really pay attention to labels and avoid wheat products and use rice-based instead. When I need a sugar fix, I go sugar-free and it’s not so bad. I’ve also discovered I have so much natural energy, I don’t need a caffeine boost.

Beer is another story. I lasted 60 days. I tried. I really tried. I’ve lost my taste for the lights and ambers, but man, a good ale is still good. I guess if I’m avoiding wheat, I should avoid beer, but it’s obvious that’s impossible. How is it I can forego hamburgers, but crave double barrel ale?

The only way I have survived my new lifestyle is by becoming a food enabler. I have friends over. I cook things with bacon, turkey, chicken, or beef. Every animal with a head, big brown eyes, and a mother has been in my kitchen during the last 100 days. I touch the meat, tell it hello, and prepare it with love. I refuse to be one of those whiny ass vegetarians that uses natural deodorant, recycles, and doesn’t cook real food for their friends.

I’m not pushing my new organic lifestyle on others, but I do feel great- kind of like I did the first time I skied, or hiked to a peak, or swam in the Santa Monica bay. I don’t do that stuff anymore, so we’ll see how long this lasts.

I’ve applied the three-strike-you-are-out rule to my dating. It really comes in handy. Annoying but overlooked first date habits can be re-evaluated prior to firing the potential boyfriend. That way, I am not in month three of the season realizing I recruited the wrong player.

Spicoli admitted on our first date that he was unemployed. That would concern most women, but since I’ve been there, I was sympathetic. In addition to applying for jobs, he tries to surf five times a week. I knew he really was a surfer when he used the word “gnarly” several times. Who still uses that word? I looked behind me to see if Mr. Hand was going to tell us to do our homework.

On the third date, more gnarlies passed between his lips in addition to admitting he had two kids, ages 13 and 3, from two separate women. He’s never been married, and I’ve never met a white baby’s daddy.

Dood, game over. You are out.

I’ve always felt there’s a profession more deviant and despicable than used car salesman or insurance underwriter. That would be the “human resource” career track. Throughout my 20+ year career, they have been referred to as inhumane and no-resource.

This week I received a call from a lovely human resource woman. She was screening me for several positions in the company. Strengths, weaknesses, what do you like doing, what is your management style, etc…. Then came a question I couldn’t believe. I was so thankful I was on the phone. She didn’t see me hold the phone out, cock my head and mouth “what the fuck?”

“What do you see yourself doing in five years,” she asked me.

I laughed a little and said, “You are kidding me, right? I think I was 25 the last time I was asked that question.”

She back-peddled a little and waited for my response. During the three-second delay, I crafted the best should-be-copyrighted response:

“Considering I walked home on 9/11, I don’t think about the future that much. I live every day like it will be my last. All I can hope for in my career is to use all my skills, get some kind of satisfaction out of the work, and produce meaningful results.”

I guess the response was good enough. She called me two days later for an interview.