Category: mmm… food

For me, the morning routine on the cube farm begins with a trip to the coffee vending machine. This evil monstrosity has been our source of caffeine since that fateful day in July when workmen carted away our beloved coffee urns. Since then, coffee has been acrid and unmistakably mechanical in nature. It’s hard to describe the subtle difference between a cup of freshly-ground coffee-maker coffee and machine-pressed liquid. They are similar, I suppose, but there’s a certain roundness of flavour that the machine fails to capture, and a delicate hint of machine parts seems to linger, unless that’s just my imagination.

There are two flavour selections on the machine’s panel: French and Hawaiian. Despite my expectation of either croissant or ham-and-pineapple, respectively, they taste identically bitter to me — like Safeway brand, but with a hint of WD-40.

When I noticed that both hoppers were empty in the machine, a subversive notion overwhelmed me. I opened the machine and very deliberately filled the French hopper with Hawaiian and the Hawaiian hopper with French. If nobody notices, then I believe my point will have been made.

I have decided to take the plunge. Starting yesterday, I began my strict health regimen:

• Each day, I will walk at least five metres.
• I will not visit McDonald’s unless it is before 8:00am or after 12:00 noon.
• Beer is completely forbidden except on weekends, holidays, Friday lunches, and any day that has a vowel in its name.
• After work every day, I will spend at least half an hour on the stationary bike, of which at least some of the time will be spent pedalling.
• I will eat at least one vegetable each week.
• I will no longer eat orange foods. Basically nothing orange is natural. Except oranges, of course.
• I will spend less time in front of the computer.
• I will give up cigarettes. Thankfully I’ve never smoked them, so that one’s easy.
• I will use my feet whenever possible.
• I will only drink beer from a keg, because lifting one of those is a real workout.

Weight Watchers in the seventies must have hired chefs from another dimension. Candyboots.com explores some recipe cards from the mid-seventies. Approach with caution. Contents may or may not resemble actual food.

(Link via Daily Blah.)

At lunch, I bought a bottle of freshly-squeezed carrot juice with my salad. Carrot juice!

I didn’t notice anything wrong until I stepped into the elevator and couldn’t operate it. I reached for my security card, but found nothing. I reached for my wallet, which wasn’t there either. Once again, I’m cardless and moneyless for the day.

Doh.

Fortunately, I think there’s a mess o’ leftover chow mein noodles in the fridge, if it hasn’t slithered away yet. Well, after this it can only get better, right? To quote Walt Kelly’s Pogo, “From here on down, it’s uphill all the way.”