Personality Test

Despite what some of my posts might insinuate, I am not the anti-Christ or some type of devil...just a mild to intermediate asshole. And assholes do attend church on occasion. (Sometimes it burns and feels like bugs are crawling all over me, but I still go.) Part of going to my church is also being part of a small group that meets once a week and talks about all kinds of stuff ranging from relationships, family issues, and job issues to more Jesus-y Bible type stuff.

Several times during these discussions the topic of personality type has been brought up. Everyone in our group--EXCEPT ME--has taken this special personality test that relates your personality to four kinds of animals--lion, beaver, otter, and golden retriever. So, naturally, I'm completely lost whenever someone mentions that they are an otter with a hint of lion. Most of the people in the group seem to relate themselves with two animals and will say something like, "I'm a lion, otter."

I finally found a detailed description and copy of the personality test. Now, I can't wait to go to my small group this week and tell everyone that I'm a BEAVER RETRIEVER. I'll probably be asked to leave the group by the more churchy folk, but it will be worth it.

Why I Don't Like Oreo Cookies Anymore

I went out with one of my buddies the other night and we stopped at the Cantina in Oswego, IL for a beer and it reminded me of another time we went to the Cantina a few years ago. It was a full house that night. As usual, we made our way straight for the Golden Tee machine to play a few rounds of virtual golf.

From the moment we walked into the bar this blonde chick was checking us out. She was kind of cute, with a faint hint of truck stop hooker. She was sharing a table with her friend and two guys by the Golden Tee machine. My buddy and I started playing and after about half an hour this blond chick got up from her table and stood by the machine...and just started staring at us. She was a little wobbly, so it was pretty clear that she was wasted. She put her beer down on the machine and started to say something, but I picked up her beer, handed it back to her, and told her it was in my way. She slurred something in drunk hookerese and went back to her table.

Five minutes later she was back at the machine. We looked at the guys at their table as if to say, "We're really not trying to cock block you. We just want to play some Golden Tee." One of the guys gets up, comes over to us, and proceeds to tells us how they brought the two chicks here from some other bar." While me and my buddy are talking to this guy, we watch the other guy take the blonde chick's friend outside. For ten minutes they are gone, while for ten minutes the blonde chick is staring off into space, slurring something, and wobbling around the bar. All of sudden, out of nowhere, the blonde chick comes up to me and starts telling me that I have to go find her friend because she might be in trouble.

I tell her to fuck off.

She starts yelling at me and crying and raising a stink in the bar and then goes outside, presumably to find her friend and leave. My friend and I laugh, shrug our shoulders, and decide to switch to darts. A few minutes later, the blonde walks back into the bar, grabs my hand, tries to look at me all sexy like, tells me to follow her, and proceeds to pull me towards the bathroom where I imagine she wanted me to pleasure her with the bathroom mop. I jerked my hand away and watched her walk across the entire bar and back towards the bathrooms. I, on the other hand, don't move an inch, and just watch. Two minutes later--after the blonde realizes I didn't follow--she comes rushing up to me and yells, "Are you gay or something?" I flash her my wedding ring and say, "Not interested. I'm married." She flashes me her wedding ring and says, "So, what? I am too." At this point I notice something is off. I take a closer look at her mouth when she starts talking and it looks like she just ate a package of Oreos. There was black stuff all over her teeth.

I wish I had said something more witty, like, "I'm not gay. But that doesn't matter right now. What does matter is that we don't use dog shit to brush our teeth. We use toothpaste." Alas, telling her, "Fuck off, you crazy hooker bitch!" seemed to do the trick.

And that's why I'm not as big a fan of Oreos as I used to be.

Staying Regular

A while back I told by wife that I had reached a plateau at the gym and decided to change my workout routine in the hopes of getting better results. Part of that change was to edit out some things in my diet, mainly simple carbohydrates (e.g., sugar, syrup, candy, cake, bread, pasta). I would still eat plenty of complex carbohydrates (e.g., vegetables, fruits, beans). Although many complex carbohydrates contain lots of fiber, which keep you regular in the poopy department, my wife thought that since I was cutting simple carbs out of my diet that I need to supplement my fiber intake.

One weekend, my wife went grocery shopping. Upon her return home, this is how our conversation went:

My wife: I got you something special at the store.

Me: Oh, yeah. What is it?

My wife: Psyllium.

Me: What the hell is that?

My wife: It's a fiber supplement. You know, to help you stay regular. You can mix it in with your food...like your oatmeal or cereal.

Me: OK, I didn't know I was having problems down there. But since you bought it, I guess it couldn't hurt. Where is it?

My wife: I put it in the pantry.

To my surprise this is what I see:

Me: Uhhh, why did you buy me colon cleanser?
My wife: What are you talking about?
Me: Did you not look at the can?
My wife: Of course I did. It says for regularity and heart health.
Me: Did you not see the big blue label that says colon cleanser?
My wife (laughing hysterically): No. I didn't.
Me: How could you possibly miss it. And look how much you bought? Now I have to eat it!

A few days later I put a about 1-2 tablespoons of this stuff into my yogurt and fruit parfait. Texturally I didn't even know it was there - it didn't add or detract from the rest of my breakfast. Also, it hardly had an odor...only the faint smell of dried grain. Then there was the taste. It was vile. (In college my frat brothers used to come up with the most retched concoctions of food and I would eat it without even breaking a sweat. I had and iron stomach). One bite of pysllium in my breakfast and I thought I was going to puke in the kitchen sink. I think wet cat food would have tasted better with my yogurt. I had to plug my nose to choke down a couple spoons of this shit. I ended up throwing the rest of my breakfast and the pysllium in the trash.

The whole experience made me so stressed out I couldn't shit for a week. F U pysllium!

P.S. My A-hole of a wife is no longer allowed to bring me home surprises from the grocery store...STICK TO THE LIST!

Setting Goals

I've been really bad at keeping this thing up to date with the current shenanigans in my life. I've made a goal to post at least once a week. I have this thing against goals ever since my high school health teacher decided to pull me out of my English class to give me a speech that he had written out on 3x5 note cards about how I need to set goals in my life.

Apparently he thought I was a troublemaker and had a one way ticket to drug addiction, armed robbery, and serial flashing because I occasionally talked in his class. I shot his high horse dead when I interrupted his speech to remind him that I was in the top 15% percent of my class academically, lettered in three sports, was president of the German club, went to church every Sunday, and ate Wheaties for breakfast. Unfortunately, since I spoke out, I was now also considered belligerent, which added coyote and pimp to my future crimes. After the speech was over I was allowed to go back to my English class and think about my future.

Deep down I know that he cared and just wanted me to harness my full potential, and I appreciate that. Thank you health teacher.

And what ever happened to that bold teacher who decided to take a chance and straighten out an already well-rounded, industrious young man. Well, he cared about one of his student's a little too much and was forced to resign. He is no longer a teacher, as least where I went to school. They probably still let him teach in someplace like Utah or Florida. And that's where goals will get you.