Edible Grenades only $5.50!!

Some of my half dozen (AKA 1-3) infrequent readers, may sometimes wonder as they peruse the latest gibberish found in this blog, exactly what the purpose is of it all. What possess a person to spend otherwise useless time typing out meaningless observations? This latest blog provides no answer to this question:

I’ve been somewhat of a refugee recently during my 30 minutes of allotted lunch time, abandoning my typical Subway sandwich and venturing into the limited, yet interesting, assortment of other inexpensive eateries in town who can crank out a cheap sandwich or plate of food in under 10 minutes. Today I decided to give old Bill’s Pizza a shot again, after a 3 month furlough from my belly.

Bill’s is authentic as they come; cheap sandwiches, smokes, beef jerky, rude jokes, unkempt grounds, local-yokels, and the occasional attitude. It’s the one stop a lot of the blue-collared crowd in Yarmouth makes in a day. There’s nowhere to sit, standing room only. Park the truck wherever you can fit it, haul ass inside and to the counter (it’s always busy) where a friendly sandwich professional will assist you in designing your lunch, grab a refreshment from the cooler, maybe a whoopee pie from the shelf and a paper from the bin, pay whatever the cashier feels like charging you, and get the fuck back in the truck! You’re eating alone in your vehicle again!

For one 2 month stretch I ate nothing for lunch except a customized turkey “Italian” (Mainer for a long sandwich), tricked out with a little garlic powder, some diced onions, sliced mushrooms fresh from the can, room temperature mayo, oil-based provolone, Greek olives and a trip through the oven via the Pizza Belt Express. The sandwich plays every chord of satisfaction when coupled with a fizzy beverage, but after the greasy-ecstasy is over, the belly starts wondering exactly what the hell was just consumed. It’s a feeling that only weeks and weeks of consistent consumption can eliminate. Today marked the first time in weeks and weeks that set foot in Bill’s and my stomach; spoiled with the fresh array of Subway vegetables, was like a virgin to the eminent effects of this monster sandwich.

It’s time to get back on that horse and assault the system with another edible grenade tomorrow afternoon. The spoils of Subway have long lost their wholesome appeal.

That awful subject

Money. We love it, we hate it, we want it, we waste it. To be rather frank about my current social standings; I'm fucking broke. Broke-broke-broke.

Tia and I just purchased our first real car last month, we bought our first house a year ago, we're getting married in grand fashion in just 10 weeks, the dogs just had their yearly assortment of unnecessary shots and blood tests, I just put a bunch of heating oil in the tank that really didn't need to be put in, and the last couple of weeks overall have seen some rather frivolous behavior.

Being broke is by no means a new concept to me, and it's this particular dry spell that has me identifying the vast array of negative reactions to the state. Conservation becomes the soundtrack to each day between now and next Thursday when I will find my financial keel once again even. It's strange how the nicest dinner out on the town among friends will almost always end on an awkward note when the bill comes.

Through some perverse association, I drink less water when I'm broke; as though the tens of thousands of gallons of water in and around my well directly relate to a little number that only I and a piece of plastic in my wallet know about. I write shorter emails when I'm broke, as though we're living in 1995 and every k of transferred data is racking up some monster bill. My physical actions are less frequent and budgeted tightly, as though every calorie burned is just one more I have to pay to get back.

These habits are most certainly related to our primitive past in caves and huts of conservative means. It struck me tonight that we don't have a slender side of elk drying over the fire pit, rather, we have frozen pizza and salmon steaks in the freezer, a deep pantry of dry and canned goods, plenty of fresh veggies, and gallons of juice, soda, bottled water, wine, beer, etc. Not to mention a wealthy supply of stored energy around my mid-section (the wallet of days past). Suddenly that $45 in my checking account seems like generous allowance to eat lunch for the next 5 working days.

I wonder how beagle meat tastes when cooked over an open flame...