I’m not even supposed to be writing right now. I’m supposed to be in bed sleeping because I’ve felt like shit the entire day, but not the kind of shit anyone would feel sorry about. It’s the lazy kind of shit, which actually makes people pity you…I assume. My body has not wanted to do anything today. My mind hasn’t strayed too far from that attitude either, with the exception of when reading This is Where I Leave You by Jonathan Tropper, which sent my mind racing to break the world record for coming up with the most ways my girlfriend – which I don’t have – could possibly cheat on me – which she can’t do because, again, she doesn’t exist. The book has been very good so far, though I’m only 40 pages in so who knows where it could go. I only started reading it because a good friend of mind, Rider Strong, suggested it. Why yes, that Rider Strong. The same Rider Strong who played Shawn on Boy Meets World. It’s not important at all, but my conscious is telling me that it should be noted that by ‘good friend’ I mean I grew up watching him on TV and by ‘suggested’ I mean he listed it in his top five favorite books of the year on the podcast he does called Literary Disco, so I have no affiliation with him, other than the obvious fact that were he to know me he’d totally think I was awesome-sauce…until I stated that I think he thinks I’m awesome-sauce, then he’d totally kick my ass for saying awesome-sauce.
With the exception of the sentences after “Literary Disco”, I wrote everything yesterday, but now it’s today, and I’m feeling a hell of a lot better. I don’t know what changed. I don’t normally eat well. I don’t eat super shitty, but I have no problem with stuffing my face with bread, and in this new gluten hating society I think a lot of people would point to that being why I felt like shit. But I feel great today, and I didn’t eat particularly well. For breakfast I had some red – or purple if you will – grapes, salted peanuts, an apple and cinnamon flavored Greek yogurt – mind you I’m partially lactose intolerant – green grapes, and a delightful chocolate chip cookie. Not exactly the breakfast of champions, although I still claim that no champion would ever subject their self to eating Wheaties for breakfast either.
According to Nick Kroll, the very funny comedian, Adrian Peterson eats McDonalds. People keep trying to convince us that McDonalds is trying to kill us, which they very well could be – I still don’t trust clowns or, more importantly, anyone named Ronald. But recently Adrian Peterson almost broke the single season rushing record, after having surgery on his ACL less than a year earlier. Now I’m not saying McDonalds deserves all the credit, or actually any of the credit – had he eaten 100 less McNuggets he might have McRushed himself into the record books this year…that’s right, I did the cheesy joke of adding Mc to a word, and I only hate myself a little bit for it – but if I was McDonalds I’d be pulling a never ending stream of cash out my baggy sleeves until Adrian Peterson was the new spokesperson for McDonalds, because anyone who eats McDonalds and (click on this link) looks that good with his shirt deserves every penny that goes along with being a corporate shill.
Here’s this thing I did or something,