On the Hardships of Being a Vegetarian When You Don't Like Vegetables

As of the first of July and for the rest of the month, I have committed to being a vegetarian again. One may easily wonder why I would do that to myself as I have tried becoming a full time vegetarian before and have failed.  Well, this time I have a very good reason. Dottie decided that she wanted to go vegetarian for a month and I decided to tag along. Why is this a very good reason to become a vegetarian? Well, it's the best reason I have had so far. Allow me to go into detail.

The first time I went vegetarian was a few years back, probably around 2008. I had been watching many documentaries, which I do from time to time, and was appalled by the way the meat industries conduct their business. Not only is the treatment of the animals horrific, but the quality of the meat and the many chemicals involved is revolting. I also learned about the benefits of a vegetarian, or at least meat-lite, diet and was pretty convinced that it was definitely a healthier lifestyle. Unfortunately, none of that was taken into account when I decided to try my hand at vegetarianism. One morning I woke up more sullen than usual and decided my life was too monotonous. I decided I needed to make a change to get myself out of that rut. That was my sole reason for becoming a vegetarian. Of course, when people asked I told them that I was doing it for health reasons or for the animals because I did not want people to think I was weird. I have come a long way since then. Regardless, or irregardless if you wish, I was doing it purely out of boredom. I do a lot of stupid stuff because I'm bored. Fortunately, this one turned out to be one of the "not-so-bad" ones.

That year, my former uncle was going through a divorce. What do I mean by former uncle? I mean that I don't claim him as my uncle anymore. I guess he is also my former godfather but I never thought of him in that way so I guess that's not relevant. The point is that, although he is out of my life now, he was still considered family then and he was going through a rough patch. I have never been a sensitive person, but I felt bad for him and asked my parents to go to Albuquerque with me to spend thanksgiving with the former uncle. Why do I bring this up? I bring this up because, although my first experience with vegetarianism was a good one, that was the worst thanksgiving of my life. To be honest, I have never really been much into the whole thanksgiving celebration. To be even more honest, I absolutely love thanksgiving food. I love turkey. I love ham. I love stuffing and dressing. I love mashed potatoes and gravy. I love macaroni & cheese. I love pasta salad. I love rolls. I hate cranberry sauce, and I don't totally understand why it is paired with turkey, but I don't often have to worry about that since Mexicans don't use cranberry sauce with their turkey. That thanksgiving, my mom went all out. We even had dessert and we don't often have dessert. We sat down to a great feast and I did not enjoy watching everyone stuff their mouth-holes with happy turkey and delicious ham while I shoveled sad spoonful of bland mashed potatoes down my gullet. That's all I could eat. Everything else had some sort of meat in it except for the mashed potatoes which I made sure were vegetarian. In fact, I made those sad tasteless mashed potatoes myself and I am sure they would have tasted a lot better as a side dish than as a main course. It does not matter how much butter and cheese you add to them, they are not gonna compare to a full meal. I learned that the hard way. There are just not enough seasonings in the world to turn mashed potatoes into an entree. I must say that I am very proud that I made it through without caving in. I wanted to, but I didn't. I held steadfast and the one reason I stopped being a vegetarian that time was because of Medea.

Now, I give Medea a lot of grief in this blog. I don't feel bad about that because, in accordance with Karmic law, she has it coming. But, there are some things in which I have no reason to reproach her. She may not be understanding, or because of denial even aware, of me being gay, but she was one hundred percent supportive about me being a vegetarian. Throughout most of my life, she has held a job because she gets bored at home. However, at that time she was not working. I don't remember exactly why, but I think it was due to a work injury she sustained. The point being, she was at home and would cook two dinners every day. She would cook one with meat for her and Dad and one without for me. I kept asking her not to and telling her that I would cook my own dinners so she wouldn't have to overexert herself but she would not listen. It got to the point that she cooked three different lunches for our trip to Albuquerque. She made regular picadillo, a Mexican ground beef dish, for Dad. She made meatless picadillo for me. And, she made onion-less picadillo for her as she does not like onions. I kind of felt bad that she had to do all that extra work for me. The breaking point came one day when I came home and she told me what she had made for dinner. I don't remember what it was but it was something with meat in it. When I told her that, she said that she had not forgotten about me and that she had made hot dogs for me. I felt really bad when I told her that hot dogs are made of meat products. It honestly slipped her mind that I could not eat them and she had already cooked them. That was the end of my first venture into vegetarianism. Word to the wise, though, if you haven't eaten meat in six weeks, hot dogs are not the best choice for a first meat meal. Just sayin'.

My second and third attempts were more halfhearted, it was during these that I instituted my steadfast rule about not giving up jello, and lasted less time than the first. Let's just say that I would love to be a vegetarian for life, but I lack the motivation and drive to do it. Also, I am not fully sure how people who become vegetarians because they say the respect life can eat vegetables since they were alive too at one point. In a way, I guess humans are just parasites because we have to consume other living things to survive. Anyway, this brings us to this, my fourth, attempt at vegetarianism.

This time I was not even thinking about it. One day we were having lunch and Dottie, completely out of the blue, announces that she is going vegetarian for a month at the beginning of the week. I asked her why she was doing that as it was uncharacteristic of her. She responded that she was going to try it for health reasons. I don't know why, I am thinking it was mainly because she and Connie are my main lunch companions, but I told her that if she waited til July first I would do it with her. And so, here we are. As of this writing, it has only been two days, today is the third. How's it going? Not bad. Connie, although she initially said she would at least do vegetarian lunches with us, has not had lunch with us this week so far. That was expected though. As for me and Dottie, we're trying to do it. It's sad to say we're struggling because it has only been two days, today is the third, but you don't realize how much you like meat and are addicted to it until you can't have it. We are trying though. We had Subway veggie subs on Monday and we made our own salad yesterday. Here's a picture of my salad which, I must say, tasted as good as it looks,

If you were wondering how it looks, it looks delicious. Delicious and satisfying. Also, yes, those are potato chips on top. Don't judge.

I know, that salad is a bit unorthodox, but the potato chips completely changed the flavor of the salad and made it bearable. Also, that's ranch dressing you see in there and I will give you one guess as to who does not like ranch dressing. Me. I don't like ranch dressing. I still ate it though. Besides, if you think that salad looks bad, I should show you the picture of the omelet I tried to make Monday night. I won't show you a picture, because I am a merciful blogger, but it was disastrous. See, I meant to make spaghetti for dinner Monday night because Mexican spaghetti, and yes I know that sounds weird what with spaghetti being Italian and all, does not have meat in it. I bought everything I needed to make spaghetti just the way I like it. I got some tomato sauce, mozzarella cheese, Parmesan cheese, crushed peppers and oregano. I did not buy tortillas, even though I was completely out, because even I know spaghetti is not eaten with tortillas. I get home from work Monday night to find that I did not have any spaghetti noodles. I was sure I had some so I hadn't bought any and now I found myself noodle-less. I decided to make something else but the only thing I had that did not involve meat was eggs. I like eggs okay and, after being a vegetarian for a while, I usually crave them. However, I like eggs with tortillas and I did not have any. My solution to that little problem was to try and make an omelet. Now I did not have many ingredients but here is the list of what I did have and ended up being added to the omelet,

1. Jalapeno peppers
2. Cayenne pepper
3. Salt
4. Three eggs
5. Parmesan cheese
6. Mozzarella cheese
7. Corn flour
8. Baking powder

I think the list is pretty normal. Well, maybe except for the last two items. I just figured that if I added the baking powder and corn flour to the mix, it would be like eating it with a tortilla. It wasn't. The omelet ended up having a pancake like consistency but it still was not what I was expecting. I ate it though and I have never been more thankful for having an iron stomach due to being raised in Mexico and drinking its water for twelve years.

Now, it is almost time for lunch again and I think I will have the same salad I had yesterday, the picture above, sans the ranch dressing. I am pretty sure I will make it to the end of the month. Ideally, I would love to be a vegetarian for longer than that but I will just have to wait and see how everything plays out. Don't worry though. I will keep you posted.

P.S. If you know any simple recipes for vegetarian salads, please share them with me as we are attempting to eat salads at lunch and I can only eat so many potato chips before I get tired of them.

P.P.S. Please do not suggest a blue cheese salad as the BF already suggested that. I did not mean to laugh at him when he did but he was talking about two Mexicans and a black lady eating blue cheese and that was just too funny. In my defense, Connie and Dottie laughed too when I suggested it. We know what we like.

Dottie Needs to Stop Calling Me Names

I have known Dottie now for almost four years. In those four years we have gotten to know each other and are pretty comfortable around each other. She is the person from work with whom I habitually go to lunch. We will often be joined by other co-workers but, when making the plans, she is the one that I usually consult. Working so closely for forty hours a week has lead to what most people call a friendship of sorts. It is not all perfect, of course. She used to have a propensity for calling gay people "fags" so I had to explain to her that it was not an appropriate term. We have had other arguments but they are mostly about religion. Mainly, her having one and me mocking it. It is these kind of interactions that often cause Dottie to flip me off, cuss me out, or both. That doesn't bother me, though, as I often have it coming. It also doesn't bother how often she "slips up" and calls me "girl." I figure she just feels comfortable around me and that makes me feel comfortable around her. She tends to be very straightforward and that is the reason why I called her the other day when I was acting like a little bitch and she called me one. I figure it's all fair and in good fun. However, last Tuesday I showed up to work and presented her with this,

Please forgive the wrinkled tissue paper but I was re-using some I had received. The gift bag, however, was brand new; even if it only cost me 69 cents.

What did I get for the, I am not going to say beautiful because I know the used tissue detracts from its overall presentation, pretty cute present? Did she say, " Thank you, Carlos. You are very nice and thoughtful?" No. When she opened her present, Dottie called me an asshole.

I may need to go back a bit before her response makes any sense. Dottie is not one to use foul language except in some very precise circumstances. She will cuss at you if you did something to deserve it or if she is not feeling well. Believe me, in this case and as usual, I had it coming.

It all started the previous Sunday. I was hanging out with BF when I get a text from Dottie saying, and I quote:

"Just came from Care Now and getting RX at Walmart. Been sick since Friday night with migraine headache and vomiting."

Since she mentioned she had sought professional help and medication, I asked if she was feeling better. She stated that she was. I, then, suggested she should stay home on Monday if she wasn't feeling well and she said she would go to work depending on how she was feeling. I stopped texting her then because she was cutting into my time with BF plus there was no way I could make her feel better.

Come Monday morning, I pulled into the parking lot to see her car there. I figured she was feeling better. I went to her office and she confirmed my hypothesis by stating that she felt better. The other co-workers that were gathered in her office then started asking her what was wrong. She explained how she had been sick all weekend. She even jokingly said that her daughter had, in jest, asked if she was pregnant. It is worthy of mention that Dottie's age is what she calls double-nickel (figure it out yourself) so she is past her child bearing days. We all shared in the laughter at the ludicrous and bizarre image of a pregnant Dottie.

The rest of the day went off without consequence. After work, I had to go to Target because the twelve-packs of Pepsi were on sale four for ten dollars. I like to stock up on soda when it is on sale as I drink a lot of it. While in the store, I decided to look around and see if there was anything else worth buying. It was then that an inkling of an idea began to spawn in my twisted little mind. I found myself shopping around for an item that I never would have thought I would buy. Seriously, if someone had ever told me before that I would one day purchase this item, I would have bet my life that they were wrong. Nevertheless, I headed over to the pharmacy area and purchased this,

This little box set me back about nine bucks but I refused to buy the generic brand because it did not look as cute. Also, I really love the black background from my pictures. Who would ever guess that it is just my comforter?

Now, even I am not enough of an asshole to think I can gift someone a pregnancy test and get off scotch free. How should I soften the blow? First, I thought, I had to buy a pretty bag. I walked over to the gift bag area and noticed there were some on clearance. On that clearance area, I found the cute little bag from earlier and, after making sure that the pregnancy test box fit inside, decided to buy it. I still felt there was something missing so I went over to the candy aisle and bought a box of Hot Tamales which happens to be her second favorite candy.

I drove back home and decided to put the present together. I had not bought tissue paper because I was sure I had some at home. I was wrong. I searched for a full two minutes before I gave up and decided to use some tissue paper from a gift I had received about a year back. It did not really go with the box because it was just one sheet of black and one sheet of white but I figured I would make it work. I ended up cutting up the black sheet in two so I could wrap the Hot Tamales and the pregnancy test and then just using the white as the picture shows. I was actually pretty proud of it but I had this sinking feeling in the pit of my stomach that this could all backfire somehow.

The next morning came around and I walked into Dottie's office and handed her the bag. You could tell she was a bit wary of what the gift could be. Just by shaking the first box she knew it was Hot Tamales. She did not know what the second box was, though, so she ripped a piece of black paper off so she could see what it was. The minute she figured out what it was, she looked straight at me and said, "You asshole!" She smiled as she said it so I knew everything would be okay. The gaggle of co-workers then started asking what the box was and she finally unwrapped it for all to see. I would like to tell you that the joke went over great and that people were laughing til tears came to their eyes, so I will. As far as you know, people laughed til their sides hurt, even if that is not the truth. The co-workers thought it was funny and they kept passing it around trying to determine who needed it most and joking around. The test ended up in one of Dottie's drawers and has been designated the office's contingency pregnancy test which is available to the next person with a pregnancy scare (it's always a pregnancy scare, right? I've never heard of a pregnancy pleasant surprise.)

All in all, the joke went over pretty well. Pretty well, though, is not worth the eleven or so bucks the gag gift had ended up costing me. I did not do it to get a great laugh, though. I did it to try and cheer Dottie up a bit after her terrible weekend and that would have been worth the eleven bucks if it had worked. Why do I say "if" you ask. I say "if" because I am not sure if it cheered her up. I don't know how funny women find reproductive jokes as I am not a woman but I do hope that it is not a sore subject for women of the double-nickel age. If nothing else, Dottie did smile plus she loves cussing me out, or at least I think she does otherwise why would she do it so often, so it was not a complete waste of time/money. After all, she could not have been that mad since she at least got a pretty gift bag and some Hot Tamales out of it. Nothing can be that bad if you end up with some candy.

I was going to end on that last line and I realized how pedophiliac it sounded. Don't think about it too much. I should just amend that line to read "Nothing can be that bad if you are an adult and you end up with candy." I guess that sounds a bit better. I don't want to encourage anyone to try anything just for the sake of candy but I am still pretty sure that, at least for Dottie, the candy made the experience better. I will stop now as I feel like I am digging a hole deeper and deeper. This whole paragraph sounds perverted. Damn.

According to Dottie, I Am a Whiny Little Bitch

I am not sure what my stance has been on swearing on this blog. This is at the front of my mind considering what the title of this post is and because I will have to use the word "bitch" at least a few times during this post. I do know my regular stance on cursing. I do not believe words are inherently good or bad but that it is our usage of them that assigns them a moral connotation. That is, however interesting for me, not relevant. I looked through the settings to see if there is anything that would indicate that this blog contains profanity but the only option I saw was one that asked if it contained adult material. I don't consider curse words adult material so I chose the "no" option. Thus, it will be up to your discretion whether this blog is appropriate for you and yours. I will not use profanity lightly but I do believe it has a place in our culture and, in instances where it is relevant to the story, I will not shy away from its usage.

All that will come later though. First, I want to keep talking about the wonderful weekend I had. Why was it wonderful? Well, it's mostly because of a single person, the BF. It all started Saturday when I arrived at his house so we could ride together to the wedding. We had not seen each other in two weeks because he travels a lot for work and, even though he had been in town the previous weekend, I had been sick and was unable to meet up with him. I got to his house and he was ready. This is important for two reasons. First, it shows that he is dependable to be on time. Second, it shows that I was running late and thus am not dependable to be on time. When I walked into his house, he announced he had something for me and unceremoniously presented me with this;

Note that the patriotic motif was the BF's and not mine as I consider patriotism to be a granfalloon.

That star-spangled emblazoned key that he gifted me grants me access to his house. I must say that I was moved by the gesture. Especially since earlier in the week, two days earlier to be exact, I was talking to Preggo about how I am a horrible boyfriend since the BF had asked me to help him put out his trash on collection day since he was out of town and I had forgotten. Twice. I had forgotten two weeks in a row. I told her that, in my defense, I had asked the BF to remind me and he had not done so because I was sick. I still felt bad about it, though. I also told her that I did not know where his trash cans were. Preggo asked me if I did not have a key to his house. I replied that I didn't and that I wasn't sure when and if I would get one. Cut to two days later and he is giving me a key, however gaudy, to his place. That right there put me in a good mood.

I was nervous about the wedding as the BF hadn't really ever seen me in a social situation. Plus, I was planning on drinking and he had not, and still has not, seen me drunk. I am taking it one day at a time. After all, easy does it. First things first, I want him to get to know me before I can scare him away with drunken antics. For those of you who noticed; yes, I used three of the slogans used by AA to refer to my drinking. Thank you for noticing as I only knew two and had to look up a third. It was hard work and I hope it pays off. If you read last week's post, then you are aware that there was an hour wait before the ceremony began and that I get antsy easily. I kind of felt bad for the BF because, when bored, I become very childish and immature. I went as far as to send him a text, even though he was sitting right next to me, asking him to entertain me. When he responded, I replied with a text saying that I was busy and would text him later. I found that funny. I also kept asking if I could go get some water and I even started making up illnesses, i.e. fever and stomachache, to see if he would let me go for a walk. He was unyielding and I had to sit there for the whole hour and I was not too happy about that.

As I may have mentioned in last week's post, I don't remember and I am too lazy to go back and re-read the post to make sure, I knew more people at the wedding than I expected to know. Therefore, at times I felt like I was neglecting the BF. I apologized to him in case I did while we were driving back to his place and asked if he had fun and if I had embarrassed him much. He said he had fun and that he had only been embarrassed when the honeydew incident happened. I would explain the honeydew incident but, if you haven't read last week's post, maybe this will serve as incentive for you to go back and read it. The BF did point out though that he was surprised at the ease with which I talked to people that I had told him that I strongly disliked, not to say hated. I had told him in the past that I was a very good hypocrite but he had never seen me in action. He also said that he was surprised that I introduced him as my boyfriend. I explained to him that there were two reasons for that. The first was that this was an event attended by people who were not my family, they were co-workers and friends, and therefore knew that I was gay so I felt comfortable presenting him as my boyfriend. Secondly, and perhaps more importantly, I wanted to make sure the co-workers knew who he was. If you remember, he had bailed out on me once for a co-worker event and they had taken to calling him "the imaginary boyfriend," implying that I had made him up. I had to put a stop to that and show them that he was real so it was almost a requirement to introduce him as my boyfriend.

When we were getting close to his place, we noticed that a cop was driving behind us and, about a block and a half from the BF's house, he pulled us over. It was very entertaining because the BF freaked out. See, I have failed to mention that he has been having problems with some back pain. To alleviate the pain, he has been taking over the counter medication. He is not a fan of "western medicine," as he calls it, and follows the instructions on the labels to the letter. At the wedding, even though I had many glasses of wine, he only had one glass of wine and nursed it all night long. I thought he'd had two glasses and kept telling him he'd be okay to get a third. I came to find out, while the cop is checking out his license in the patrol car, that the BF was relieved that he had only had one which is a lot fewer than I had. I mean, when the cop asked if we had been drinking, I gleefully raised my hand and cheerfully announced that I had, at which point the BF just pointed at me and said that he had been the DD (designated driver for those not in the know).  Luckily, the BF only got a warning since the reason we were pulled over was because one of his headlights was out. He was still freaking out about it though and I had to explain to him that a warning was nothing more than the cop justifying his time by explaining that he had pulled over someone with a headlight out.

I know you're thinking that everything so far sounds perfectly pleasant and you would be right. We got to his place, had a few more glasses of wine and went to bed. It was the events of the next morning that are alluded to in the title. As I mentioned before, the BF travels for work sometimes. He had just gotten back on Friday and he was flying out again on Monday so I knew he had errands to run. I also knew that he had to meet a friend of his at ten thirty in the morning and would be occupied for the rest of the day. Now, I am not a morning person. I used to be. When I was a senior in high school, I would get up at six in the morning every day even though I did not start getting ready for school until seven. It has been a long time since then and I have become more of a night owl. The BF, on the other hand, considers getting up at six thirty sleeping in. So, he got up at his usual early time and I decided to get up with him as I would not see him for two weeks once he left to meet his friend. We got up and had some coffee. I then suggested going somewhere for breakfast but he said he had to do some things first before he left the house. Apparently, I still looked very sleepy because he added that I should just go back to bed and take a nap/finish sleeping. I was tired so I went back to bed and promptly fell asleep. I felt him moving around the room a few times and considered getting up but I was very sleepy. Plus, it felt like I had only been in bed a few minutes every time I heard him and woke up. When I finally decided to get up, I looked at the clock and it was ten fifteen. I must explain here that along with not being a morning person, it takes me a while to fully wake up and become the wonderful person that people know and love. Point in case, if my sister ever happens to wake me up when she calls me, she knows to hang up and wait for me to call her back in about ten minutes or the conversation won't go well as I will be very upset for no reason. Okay, keep that in mind as I tell you what happened.

I woke up and saw what time it was and had this sinking feeling in my stomach that the BF had left without saying good bye. I stumbled groggily to the kitchen and looked out the window to find his truck was gone. I am not going to say I was mad, but I was upset. I wasn't going to get to see him for two weeks so, in my head, he should have woken me up to say good bye. Because I was upset, I got dressed very quickly, grabbed my stuff and went to my car. Once I was in my car, I called him. He answered in a very happy tone and asked me how my morning was going to which I very drily replied with a simple statement. "You left." He did not say anything to that so I added that he left and that he hadn't said good bye. He said that he did not want to wake me and I told him that he should have. He then asked if I had eaten the breakfast he had left for me in the fridge. I told him that I hadn't opened the fridge because I left as soon as I found out he was gone. He informed me that he had gone out that morning and purchased some stuff for breakfast and left it for me in the fridge and told me to go back inside to get it. I told him I was already down the road and did not feel like turning back. At that point, he arrived at his friend's place to pick him up so he had to let me go and we hung up. I thought about the fact that he had bought me breakfast and that it was a nice gesture but I was still upset that he had not woken me up before he left. A few minutes later, while I was still driving back to my place, he called me and asked me not to be upset. I said that I wasn't upset but that I was sad that he hadn't said goodbye. He then asked if I had seen the note he left me. Apparently, he had left a note for me on the floor in the entrance from the bedroom hall to the living room. I saw a piece of paper in the ground but I figured he'd dropped something and did not pick it up and read it because I did not want to be nosy. He had actually written two notes as he had left one when he went to buy breakfast, in case I woke up then, and he left one when he left to do what he needed to do. When he told me that, I knew I was being difficult, but I still felt a little slighted.

After we hung up, I called my friend Hillary so she could tell me that I was wrong. Unfortunately, she did not answer. I decided to call Dottie then since I needed someone to tell me I was being spoiled and stupid. I knew I was wrong on some level, but I was not fully awake and I needed someone to set me straight. Fortunately, she did. After hearing what had happened, she said;

"Carlos, get over yourself. He was trying to be considerate so stop whining like a little bitch."

When I articulated my surprised over being called a "little bitch", she responded;

"I meant to say "big bitch" but figured it would be nicer to use "little" instead. You need to apologize to him though."

As much as I respect Dottie and her no-nonsense approach, and because I wasn't fully awake yet, I took her advice with a grain of salt because I still felt my point had some validity to it. When I talked to the BF later that day, I did apologize and explained that I was not fully awake when I talked to him and thanked him for being so considerate. He asked me if I was mad and I reassured him that I wasn't so everything worked out in the end.

However, the next day, still trying to find a leg to stand on, I decided to share what had happened with Preggo and some other co-workers. This did not work out to my advantage. Among the many things that they told me, I was instructed to make it up to the BF for the way I had behaved and was told that I needed to appreciate having such a wonderful person in my life that is willing to put up with all my b.s. I talked to the BF about it that evening and told him what I had been told and that, although I was not gonna make it up to him as I still think I had a little bit of reason for acting like I did, I was apologizing one more time. He deserved at least that and that was as far as I was willing to go.

I guess the whole point of this post is to acknowledge that I have it very good with the BF and I should be thankful for him. Yes, he does not understand sarcasm and most of my jokes fly right over his head, but he more than makes up for it by being so caring and considerate. Also, he told me to write something good about him as he felt I was being too mean. So... here it is. I said something nice. Take a picture (screenshot) of it because it doesn't happen often. On a serious note, I am glad to have the BF in my life and I hope to have many more stories to share with you all about him.

Hey, You Can't Blame Me for Trying...

As usual, I shall start this post by commenting on how long it has been since my last post. It has been over two months now. In that time I have turned twenty-seven and gone through yet another mid-life crisis, I think. I would excuse my lack in post writing to the fact that turning twenty-seven was not easy, birthdays never are, but I know that would be a lie.  In fact, I have had plenty of things to write about. I have read two books so far. I know that two books is not enough but they are going to be part of my thousand book project.  I shall write about them soon, hopefully. I am going to keep the apologizing for not writing section of this post short as I know that it is getting a little old.

Well, something happened yesterday that made me want to write. Unfortunately I cannot get into the story without giving you some background first.

About two months ago, my parents decided to look into my finances and were appalled at the amount of money I owed to credit cards. Yes, I know that using credit cards is stupid. I also know, however, that it is fun to do whatever you want to do whenever you want to regardless of whether you can afford it at the moment. This is also true because I am horrible at saving and, if I had to save to do anything I wanted, I would never do anything. Anyway, despite the fact that I was twenty-six, this was obviously before my birthday, they decided to take a more hands on approach. First thing they did was bail me out. Yeah, that was pretty cool. They paid off my credit cards. However, this was not a present. It was a loan. A loan that I am having to pay back with most of my disposable income every paycheck. Yes, you guessed it right. I was put on a budget. The way it literally works is that I get to work and, when I get my paycheck, I get to pay whatever bills need paying and then give most of the rest of the money to my parents as repayment of their loan. Technically, it's like I get an allowance all over again. Well... that is how it's technically supposed to work but lately I have been straying from the master plan. Take this weekend for example. I probably spent about one hundred and twenty dollars while bar hopping and such. I am a sucker for buying rounds of drinks for everyone. It's not that I have to pay people to like me, but I bet it doesn't hurt. I swear I am a bit  more likable when they are drunk. However, that is beside the point. The point is that I made a resolution on Sunday night, right before I went to bed, to leave my debit card at home so I would not be tempted to go to lunch with my co-workers.

On Monday morning, I woke up and got ready for work. I grabbed my typical breakfast, which consists of one banana since I am not much of a breakfast guy. I got to work and everything seemed to be going smoothly. I was answering my phone, entering stuff into the computer, singing along to whatever music my iPod would play and joking around with my co-workers. It was a good Monday morning. I even went so far as to hide Dottie's mouse and have her cuss me out and tell me to get the hell out of her office. I learned the hard way not to hide someone's mouse and to definitely not take the battery out of said someone's mouse. They really don't like it. When it came time to lunch, it was painstakingly decided that we should all go to a certain chicken sandwich restaurant that has a cow for a mascot. I guess most of y'all know what restaurant I am talking about but I am paranoid about seeing little copyright circles next to name and I really can't afford to waste my allowance on a copyright infringement lawsuit. We drove to the agreed upon eatery and I walked up to the register and ordered my usual whole lot of food. Up to this point everything is going fine but, when I took my wallet out to pay, a wave of fear surged through my body. My first instinct was to think that I had been robbed or that I had lost my debit card. A second later I remembered, though, that I had purposefully, and sleepily, set it in a drawer the night as a deterrent to spending money on lunch. A second wave rushed through me but it wasn't fear this time. It was pure embarrassment. I believe I must have blushed because my face felt all hot. Now, you have seen pictures of me and thankfully I am not pale-complexioned but I do blush in some instances. I very quietly and with a sheepish smile asked the cashier to please cancel my order while I slowly backed away from the register. My mind was going a mile a minute. How could I get home if I had ridden there with some co-workers? Did I have any money stashed somewhere? Yes, I did. Oh, no! It's in my car and I rode here with someone. Is there any way to make this situation not awkward? These and many other things ran through my mind but the prevalent question was, how could I be so stupid as to forget I had left my card at home just so I would not spend money on lunch? As I was kicking myself mentally, while still trying to maintain some level of composure, Heidi comes up and asks me what's wrong.  I gave a short laugh and told her what had happened. Now, if this would have happened to someone else, I would not have let them hear the end of it. Luckily, most people are not me. She simply offered to pay for my lunch. As we were eating, every now and then I would giggle and upon being asked why I was giggling I would simply explain that I could not believe that I had done something so stupid. Yes, my co-workers were not making fun of me. I was. And, I am probably not going to let me live this one down for a while.

It was while still at the restaurant that I decided that I should post this on the blog for posterity. So one day, when I am full of myself, I can look back upon this and realize that I make stupid mistakes as well. Now this is the part of the post where I would make promises about how I am going to write more often and all that. However, I have realized that I can't force myself to write. I hope to still have some readers and, if I do, that they will continue to read regardless of how hectic my posting may be.  I realized last night that I have been doing this for a year now. Not religiously, but it has been a year. So I guess that is some sort of milestone. Anyway, hope to type again soon.

Happy New Year!

So what if I am a month late? I still hope you have a happy new year. Also, I know it has been almost two months since my last post.What can I say? I have been lazy. I can't say that there has not been anything to write about because there has. I cannot say that I haven't had time to write because I have watched about 7 seasons of SNL reruns on Netflix in the past month alone. What is my excuse then? I simply don't have one. Since it has been a long time though, now that I am back, I will attempt to catch you guys up in what is going on in my life.

First things first, Medea came and went to Mexico. She spent about six weeks over there taking care of her mom since her health is not what it used to be. Nothing about her is what it used to be. I mean, after all, she is old. As a matter of fact, when I wrote the last blog entry on December 12, Medea was already in Mexico. My dad, my sister and I went to drop her off on the weekend of Thanksgiving and my dad and I went to pick her up sometime in mid-January.  If you remember last time I drove to Mexico with my parents, when my dad's father died, I was left behind in Odessa (although to hear my parents tell it, I left them in Odessa with the car so they were the abandoned ones). I was hesitant to go to Mexico because of obvious reasons, but Medea said her mom was really ill and that she would like for me to go because this could be the last time I got to see my grandma, the last of my grandparents, alive. Although I am pretty much immune to most guilt trips, I fell for this one. The trip to drop her off was uneventful except for a horrible allergy reaction that made me break out in hives that itched like crazy. I still don't know what caused them. I went to the doctor in Mexico and despite the fact that he prescribed two shots, it did not get better. I had to go to the doctor once I came back to the US and I had to take steroids. I, of course, did not hear the end of it from my family. They kept saying that I was way too American now and that I was allergic to Mexico. It did not matter that the allergic reaction started in El Paso, which is technically, and I mean barely technically, still the US. The trip to go pick her up was even more uneventful.  Although, when we stopped for lunch at Midland, I did text Preggo to let her know that I had made it past Odessa this time.

This brings me to the next subject, Preggo. In a way, it is thanks to her that I am writing this entry right now. It's not that I don't want to write but it is so much easier to just sit and watch TV. She is always pestering me, in a good way, to write a new entry. She is the one that, shall I say, demanded that I write an entry since I did not work today because of the wintry weather. As a sidenote, she did not work either and I don't see her starting her own blog. She did however start her own facebook and, although now everyone and their mom has a facebook, it is a big step for her. Well, she is now back at work from her maternity leave. As I mentioned before, I think I did anyway and I am too lazy to go back and check whether or not I did so I will just continue assuming that I did, she had a baby girl sometime last year. The girl's name is not "The Thing" as I have been informed countless times by Preggo. I would use the girl's real name but I don't feel at liberty to disclose it, and I can't ever remember it most of the time, so I will call her "Phoebe", like the character from Friends (obscure enough of a reference or should I make it even more so?). The problem had become what to call Preggo since she is not pregnant anymore. I have reached a decision, heretofore she shall be known and addressed as "Preggo". Why? Because it is easier to just keep calling her what I have called her so far. So y'all can rest easy since you won't have to learn a whole new nickname for the same person. One last note on Preggo, I should mention that I made her cry on her second day back at work. Apparently, sometimes I take things too far. I also think she was no longer acclimatized to my abrasive personality and the many hurtful things I say while joking around. I have already apologized to her and she has forgiven me but this is just a heads up to everyone who is, has been or will be a friend of mine, I will eventually say something that will hurt you. I may or may not apologize, depending on how I feel at the moment. I apologized on this instance but I don't plan to make it a habit. I have too much pride and I refuse to swallow any of it because I do not know how many calories it has.

On the job front, I got a promotion. You may be completely surprised to hear this since I always claim to be lazy but apparently I am a pretty good worker. I guess I like money. Not a lot, just enough.
*BREAKING NEWS: WE INTERRUPT THIS BLOG TO ANNOUNCE THAT I JUST RECEIVED NEWS THAT, DUE TO THE HAZARDOUS WEATHER CONDITIONS, MY WORK IS CANCELED AGAIN FOR TOMORROW. THIS MESSAGE WILL SELF-REPEAT. WE NOW RETURN YOU TO YOUR REGULARLY SCHEDULED BLOG.*
I am pretty psyched about the promotion. I now have my own office and my own phone extension number and my own work email. Yes, I hear what you are saying, "But Carlos, your office has no windows!" What most people don't know is that I love the fact that my office has no windows. I am really safe in the case of a hurricane, except for the fact that I am on the second floor. I was actually making a joke about how I would need fake dead plants to my friends Hill and Zeke and they came up with an ingenious solution. I was sitting in my office one day when the receptionist asked me to come downstairs. When I walked down the stairs (as I usually do since I asked for a key to the stairs to take advantage of the fact that my office is on the second floor and finally get some form of exercise), I found Hill and Zeke waiting for me and holding this:

The picture may not be too clear, but it consists of dead flowers and a spray-painted black balloon that reads "whatever." I absolutely love it. I had said I needed dead fake flowers but they upped the ante and brought me dead real flowers instead. All I have to say is that if I
*BREAKING NEWS: WE INTERRUPT THIS BLOG TO ANNOUNCE THAT I JUST RECEIVED NEWS THAT, DUE TO THE HAZARDOUS WEATHER CONDITIONS, MY WORK IS CANCELED AGAIN FOR TOMORROW. THIS MESSAGE WILL SELF-REPEAT. WE NOW RETURN YOU TO YOUR REGULARLY SCHEDULED BLOG.*
were a bouquet, this would be it. It will now sit in my office until it completely falls apart. I am lacking more decorations for my office though. I mentioned in passing to my friend Kristin that I was going to get a firemen's calendar and I think she is thinking of getting me a desk calendar with pictures of guys in them. I am excited about it which segues neatly into my next paragraph.

On romantic news, there is nothing to report.

I think that may be enough catching up. Now about the future. I do not plan on abandoning this blog. Yes, my posting cannot even be called sporadic but all I can say is that, so far, it is as consistent as I am in most everything I do. Speaking about things I do, I have a new project in mind. While I was writing my last post about Dottie and her inability to read one thousand books before she dies I wondered if I would be able to read one thousand books before I die. Granted, it is not that original but I figure it will be at least interesting to try. Of course, I will document everything here in the blog. Since I had the idea on December twelfth, I was going to try and start the project on the new year but, since I am a procrastinator supreme and I am just now getting around to mentioning it, I will try to start by March 1st, 2011. That being said, feel free to submit books that you think I should read and to tell me what your favorite books are. Since there is no way to count the books I have already read, I will start from zero and re-read some of the ones I have read previously. Each book will count once, and only once regardless of how many times I have read it or will read it, into the count for the one thousand book project. What do you think? Will this be a good idea? Will I follow through on it? I sure hope so.

Anyway, I shall stop the post for now. I am glad I had a chance to reconnect. Be aware that normal posts will hopefully resume from now on at a rate greater than, but hopefully at least, two posts a month. I have been very -ahem- "well behaved" as of late so I don't have any additions to my "Reasons I Am Going to Hell" series but I hope to resume those as well too. Furthermore, I recently acquired a Twitter account. I don't know if I will use it much but in case you are interested my username in there is cosilvar (I really don't know how to fully use it so I can't give you detailed directions on finding me so good luck, if you even look.) I guess that is all for now. Until later, sincerely, Me.

Reason Number 81 Why I Am Going to Hell

This actually happened a few months back yet I think it is still worth telling. As you all know by now, I don't really have a social life. Thus I usually don't have much to tell. If it weren't for my co-workers, I probably wouldn't have much to share at all. Luckily, I am surrounded by quirky co-workers that keep me entertained and put up with all my idiosyncrasies.  My friend Heidi, who was featured in two of my earlier reasons I am going to hell, is one of such co-workers. Heidi is, of course, not her real name. I shall never reveal her real name or where we work in order to protect her privacy (along with the Co-Worker's [who has unfortunately recently informed that she will not be reading this blog anymore due to the inconsistency of my posting]and He Who Reads From the Shadows'). I am adding a new co-worker as I am sure that she will give me more than just this one story I am about to tell. She shall be henceforth known by the moniker of Dottie. (On a personal note, I chose that nickname because I know she will hate it.)

When I first started my current job, I was excited because I thought I was going to have plenty of time to read. I did not however know that, although I would have time, I would not have the willpower to read as often as I could because I would waste too much time playing around with co-workers and watching videos on the minuscule screen on my iPod.

On random days, though, I can be seen reading a book here and there. A few months back, I was reading Letters From the Earth by Mark Twain. It had come greatly recommended by a very valued friend and I was not disappointed. I was sitting at my desk reading when Dottie came up to it and asked me what I was doing. Always eager to engage someone in conversation and maybe even lure them into an argument, I quickly told her about the book. I know that the anti-religious sentiment in it would not bode well with her as we had argued about religion in the past. This time however I was surprised by the fact that she was not as judgmental as I expected and just went on a tangent about how she wanted to get an e-reader. She said she had recently been called to jury duty and that she saw a young girl, Dottie is "middle-aged" (I refuse to give her real age on account that she has already threatened to shoot me in the past), with one and she had become interested. I, having a Lit degree, quickly argued that you lose a lot from the reading experience by not having a physical book when you are reading. She said she could see my point but was quick to add that you could have up to a thousand books and could carry them more conveniently. I quickly countered by saying, "That doesn't matter. You don't even have enough time left to read a thousand books." Which might have been a bad thing to say. Especially if you remember that she I said she was "middle-aged", which is me being generous about her age. Still, I probably should not tell someone that they won't be alive long enough to read as many books as they want. Fortunately, once it dawned on her what I had said and after the quick shock of the comment, she laughed it off. I felt kind of bad and tried to fix it by saying that I probably did not have enough time to read a thousand books either. It did not seem too consoling that we were both too old to read one thousand books. Anyway, she did say that I was going to go to hell for saying something like that after which I had no choice but to write about it here.

Well, there it is. Reason number eighty-one why I am going to hell is that I reminded someone that death is nigh, and nigher every minute. I rather like this story but it probably is one of those stories which were better if you were there. Anyway, at least I had something to write. To be honest, I started writing this pretty late on Sunday night and after a whole day of cleaning and laundry. The only reason I did is because I promised Preggo, for whom I need to find a new nickname since she already had her baby, that I would write something on the blog this weekend. I do have one more reason why I am going to hell coming and a lot of stuff has happened so I do want to write a new post soon. Until then, thanks for still reading.