Meatballs and Alfredo's Sauce

I'm not sure if this counts as an improvement over last week, but I just barely survived a third workout and am now staring down a bowl of brussels sprouts. Dinner time again. And the most exciting part of my day was finding out that there's an 's' in brussels (rather, a third one) (thanks spellcheck, and google). I was wondering why my fridge had such an odeur nauséabonde, until I realized that I'd cooked them the other night and put them in the freezer with no lid so they could cool down. Needless to say they were somehow worse tasting than they normally are. But like an orgy with the lights out, you just have to tell yourself they're meatballs. IMG_8512

And as if that needed a challenger for highlight of the night, two hours earlier I had to tap on the Tim Horton's drive-thru window to get the dude to give me my change. *cough* ten cents.  I said "uh, hey, how 'bout that dime?" and the look he gave me made me wish I could've crawled right back into that unlit orgy. Now, I didn't actually care about the change - given that it'll soon cost an even $2 for a coffee anyway, and the fact that it fell in between the seat and the door like always - but it was the principle of it. The principle that no one should be able to make my days even less exciting than they currently are. Par example, yesterday morning I was told I'd been given a raise, and when I asked what the new number was, it was less than I thought I'd already been making, which is almost as annoying as my unnecessary use of french terms in depressing blog posts. So I'm going to make up the difference by cancelling my Penthouse subscription and instead selling them all these tantalizing stories of the hardened athlete in sweat-laced spandex alone at home cooking dinner by candle light, and then slowly being penetrated, albeit by Shame.

And as the candle flickers and dies, and a smokey haze fills the room, I think back to that orgy, taking solace in the notion that tonight I'm Flint Cockwood, and it's cloudy with a chance of meatballs.

Sweet dreams.

I'm not sure what you just read either.

 

 

 

 

 

Pan Am Fun and Pan Am Games: Day 4

First thing this morning I got a free upgrade to my coffee. Second thing this morning I was told I owed them another two dollars. Third thing this morning I cried. They gave me no warning, just a friendly question essentially asking if I wanted a normal Boring Brew or a Dark-Roasted Orgasm. Which would you pick? I was told they use a special Clover machine that digitally controls the temperature and pneumatically sucks the money out of your wallet. The worst part was that it tasted so damn good. I don’t know if I told myself that to justify my subservience, or because it actually made my underpants go from tall to venti. Either way I’ll just let it slide and next time I’ll be sure to ask up front whether or not it will be more expensive for my bank and expansive for my dank.

I was hoping to save half the drink for later since it was so potent but we ended up not going back to the hotel afterwards and I needed my hands on the camera, so I had to down the whole thing right away. Within thirty minutes I was so shaky and jazzed that if I held a pickle I’d have to charge it for a happy ending.

We headed for a little side-event down the street for some of the volunteers and corporate folks and I managed to control my case of the shakes for a few minutes while Lights played:

Photo 2015-07-10, 11 22 17 AM

Photo 2015-07-10, 11 07 44 AMI wasn't not turned on. But that was because of the magical coffee from earlier, so this just made things worse. When she looked at me all I could do was try to mouth the words "no no, it's just a tripod."

After the show we grabbed some all-day breakfast and headed back for a meeting and a session on the erg. Surprisingly, no one wanted in on the workout part. So it was just me, the erg, and a few concerned hotel guests who thought they heard bulls having sex in the gym.

I was just about to start my cool down when I got a text saying we had to leave for the next event in fifteen minutes, so I ran to my room and had the coldest ninety second shower possible. As I was getting dressed I received another text saying that it was a more formal event than originally suggested, requiring dress pants, long sleeves, and … good lord … no hats. I was devastated. The sweat still hadn’t stopped and now it was getting worse. I get my hair from the Greek side of the family and I didn’t bring anything goop-related to tame it when it was unleashed from a hat into the humidity of TorontFro. I just had to hope for the best as I rushed out of the hotel, that maybe when it dried it would just know what to do. But like the end of a dirty movie, it went everywhere.

My heart rate was still over 150 until about three ice cold drinks and an hour into the event. And then I realized the sauce on the hors d’oeuvres was sriracha. Gee willickers, Batman, this kid's having a tough day.

Sweat: everywhere. Heart rate: climbing. Simon Whitfield: rather frightened.

I somehow survived my blackout condition for another hour until we headed to the opening ceremonies. I was worried I would be walking in circles, confused and delirious, but it turned out Charmaine Crooks had that covered. The third leg of the relay turned into a leg and an arm while she searched for her teammate and then stopped for a look-around when the journey became suspiciously lengthy. It was like watching over someone’s shoulder while they play Pac-Man at an arcade and you just know that ghost is gonna eat him and there’s nothing you can to but cringe.

Photo 2015-07-10, 10 50 38 PM

All in all the ceremonies were amazing. Cirque du soleil left me speechless, no one at the podium could speak french, and near the end someone's south american grandpa wandered onto the stage and we all used his full twenty minutes to guess which language he was speaking. Autopsy reports of the audience suggest they died listening to broken english.

So that's that. The Games are officially on.

There were a few more hours left in my night, but since my good man Eric thinks these posts are too long, I'll leave it at that.

Hope you made it to the end buddy.