Posts Tagged ‘potato chips’

The last screenplay I wrote was about zombies. I wrote it in three days over the course of a very productive yet what I’m sure was a lonely weekend with few if any encounters with the outside world. The screenplay never fully finished because what good is one more masterpiece to get discredited by the experts?

I don’t even have a title for the movie which hinders the progress. Oh and a lack of time, motivation, and skill as well.

I’m usually good at movie titles too. For instance, here are a bunch of hilarious parody titles based on the movie 28 Days Later that I came up with on my commute home from work. Not all are funny. In fact, several are terribly sad.

28 Blaze Later – a zombie stoner comedy

28 Gays Later – a movie about how AIDS was spread

28 Heys Later – a movie about greeting many people

28 Js Later – a movie about having to erase all of the Js on the screen after the key gets stuck

28 Ks Later – a movie about overpopulation in the KKK

28 Lays Later – a movie about having an upset tummy after eating too many potato chips

28 Neys Later – a movie about a whiny horse

28 Plays Later – a movie about a theater going zombie

28 Rays Later – a movie about skin cancer

28 Stays Later – a movie about frequently visiting the same hotel branch and getting rewards for it

28 Strays Later – 101 Dalmatians with feral cats

28 Trays Later – a movie about a zombie cafeteria lady

28 Weighs Later – a movie about zombie weight loss surgery


The third stage of death is bargaining. I’m not sure I could write an entire blog post dedicated to bargaining. I am pretty darn talented, but I find approximately 1,000 words about bargaining to be a tad dry. Since I titled this “bargaining chips” I have decided to write about snack foods like chips for instance. Hey, it was either that or writing about poker chips. Writing about poker means all I do is tell you the story how I fooled some friends into thinking I had no clue how to play and how I won $40 because of it. It’s pretty boring and I think the kid I ripped off is dead now. I really don’t feel like being haunted.

Potato Chips: These tasty treats are made from potatoes. From my understanding they are like French fries but flat. I haven’t had potato chips in a while. I might be slightly wrong. Several flavors of potato chips are made. Popular ones are ketchup, barbecue, pickle, salt and vinegar, and vinegar and salt for stubborn dyslexics. The best thing about potato chips is how salty and crunchy they are. I swear, you put salt on a tire and it would be delicious. I could probably eat an entire family sized pack anytime anywhere. I won’t though. I won’t even buy chips to keep in my home. I know all this will lead to is a 2 AM feast with a 5 AM crying session on the toilet trying to poop it all out.

(My favorite brand of potato chips, Nino. Made from real Spanish children)

French Fries: The more stick shaped version of the potato chip. Also a little softer. Think in terms that a potato chip is like an adult’s skull and a French fry is like a baby’s. French fries are more for people who enjoy a warm snack food. In my lifetime I have eaten a lot of French fries. I qualify things like potato wedges as French fries. They are close enough. For a while after 9/11 Americans called them Freedom Fries. At least in my middle school they did. My principal’s wife cheated on him and her name was Rene so I think this was more of a personal attack on her than it was pride for his country.

(In the yearbook our principal dedicated his letter to the students to “Le Whore.” There was a lot of swearing. He lives in a mental institution now. Women are cruel)

Cheese Doodles: The messiest food out there. Be warned, do not eat these if you have a cut on your hand. Your cut will not only hurt from the cheese particles that enter, you will also look like you gave a carrot an ungloved prostate exam. One year for Christmas the only thing I asked for was a giant container of cheese balls. These are cheese doodles in ball form. What’s great about them is you can roll them on your plate, down your tongue, then through your clogged small intestine from all the fattening foods you digest. I got that giant container. My pediatrician warned salty snacks were the reason before my excessive weight gain. He was Middle Easter so I think he was just jealous that our winter holiday involved great foods while his involved going on a hunger strike.

(He won’t be so happy on day 2 when he wants lunch and has to wait 5 more hours for it)

Mozzarella Sticks: I used to eat mozzarella sticks every other day for lunch. Not because I was limiting myself. I would just go through an entire box at once and my parents couldn’t get to the store every day to feed me. What makes a mozzarella stick great is the cheese inside. I like a somewhat hollow center. Then when the cheese hits your tongue it’s indescribable. I would describe it as tasty. So I guess the taste is describable. I am a liar.

(Lindsay Lohan is kind of like a mozzarella stick. Her blonde her is the overflowing cheese. Her fake overtanned skin is like the crispy outside. Both are also hollow inside. At least mozzarella sticks have souls)

Pretzels: I always felt bad for pretzels. Nobody who has tasted other chips would pick pretzels first. They’re a healthier alternative as they are much lower in fat. I like pretzels and it’s not just a pity thing either. My favorites are this one kind I cannot identify other than by their packaging. This is a problem when shopping in a new place and trying to ask for help. Of course the best part about pretzels is getting to the end. You’ve got an entire bag filled with little salt crystals. Pour it down your mouth. Snort it up your nose. It’s good to get salt in your nose. It helps your sinuses. Pretzels have actually helped me with headaches before. Or maybe I’m a fat drama queen.

(I never thought about it before but maybe I can save calories by snorting the salt straight up my nose. This man is a genius)

Blue Chips: Butthead from Beavis and Butthead summed up those blue chip things the best. “They better not have any of those lame blue chips. Those suck.” I agree Butthead. I think these have lost their luster a bit. I blame Oprah for making them popular. Are they really any better than regular nachos for your body? I doubt it. People who eat blue chips are never in great shape. They’re always women who for some reason you never see eat yet they always maintain a consistent weight. Don’t waste your time with blue chips. Live a little and get a thing of greasy Pringles.

(Not exactly sure what this has to do with snack foods. I’m mostly shocked more people aren’t talking about this cinematic masterpiece)

Crackers: I consider crackers to be very hit and miss. Some are incredibly boring. Others make you want to sell your soul for more. I don’t like plain crackers. Especially not the ones I associate with barfing. Crackers were my go-to food whenever I had a tummy ache. I would eat crackers and drink Ginger Ale. Speaking of which, I really want to go up to a redhead and say “My stomach hurts, I think I need to eat some Ginger” and see if she finds my vulgar advances charming. Probably not. The only thing redheaded girls ever find charming is someone who does not gasp at their David Caruso vagina hairs.

(“Looks like my curtain matches your drapes” is what David Caruso says when disrobing a fellow redhead. Then The Who plays and they have gross Ginger on Ginger sex)

If we determined anything today it is that I am addicted to salt. Looks like my last meal before the end of the world is going to be a spoonful of pure iodine. No wonder I am always incredibly bloated.

I like to give advice out to people. That’s nice of me. The problem, most of it is unsolicited. I’m not an ass about it. I don’t walk up to ugly married couples and suggest they not make a baby. That’s great advice. There are lots of ugly people in the world. By my counts, I saw 43 today. Yes, I actually counted how many people whom I saw in person who I could consider ugly. It’s a fun game to play and lets me forget about other problems in my life. Ugly people do serve a purpose. They remind me that I’m not them.

The main thing I have given people advice on is weight loss. I’m no Adonis or anything. I probably will never grace the covers of a fitness magazine. I don’t know why I would even want to. They’re only masturbation fodder for gay teenage boys too afraid to look up real gay porn on the Internet. Instead they settle for whichever professional wrestler is showing off his abs this month. I do believe that I at least have some knowledge to offer on the subject though. For the uninformed, I used to be very overweight. I remember my Indian doctor saying “I have a chart of weights here that match up with heights. Your weight does not match up with any heights.” Well fuck you. I’m sorry that your chart doesn’t go up to 8’9. We weren’t all born in a place where there term “Holy Cow” should be taken literally. (I had an even longer rant on this but it seemed too racist. Instead I’ll leave you with a picture of Phil Rizzuto whose catchphrase was “Holy Cow”)

(He swings like a gay kid who doesn’t know what baseball is)

How did I lose this weight? I used this book that my mom got me. It was called Jorge Cruise’s 8 Minutes in the Morning. It was a simple exercise guide which involved, on average, 8 minutes of exercising after immediately waking up. There was a diet to follow and little activities to do. I still have the notebook I wrote everything down in. It’s kind of sad to look through again at how lonely and sad I was back then. Even worse is that some of the things haven’t changed despite my “amazing transformation.” If you’re fat and think everything about your life will change when you lose weight you’re kidding yourself. Things do get better. A lot better. But you’re still a bum who all the girls think are weird. You’re not the fat kid anymore. Now you’re the kid who used to be fat and now is just oddly shaped. Kind of like a nutty candy bar that has been stepped on.

I tried to pass this book along to others. I had this “Pay it Forward” fantasy in my head that the book would be passed along from fat kid to fat kid. We’d all shape our lives differently thanks to the kindness of friends helping us realize our full potential. That never happened. The book became mostly an object to collect dust and be ignored. The book pretty much became the same as those who possessed it.

The first person I gave it to told me he weighed 270 pounds. At my peak, I was 256. That’s 17 pounds more than Homer Simpson weighs if you’re keeping score. I don’t have anything else to say about that except to watch your donut consumption. It’s hard to lose track and pretty soon you’re a 16-year-old the size of a 35-year-old fat cartoon character. My friend insisted that he did the 30 day cycle twice and lost 20 pounds on it. I asked him how much he weighed now and he said 275. I’m no math expert but somebody was lying. I think it was him. I think it was him about even trying it at all. The second person I gave the book to admitted that he never even opened it. The last time I ever saw him I asked for it back. I don’t know why I wanted it back so badly. I guess it was still fresh in my head how it had helped change me that it was important for me to keep. He gave it back and we insisted that we’d hangout a lot once he went away to college. I’m not even sure if he’s alive or dead now. I guess that’s part of growing up. Having to wait until you see the ghost of a dead friend to know if they’ve passed over or not.

(This plus 17 pounds was my mid-teen years? And they say suicide is never an option…)

Others still never wanted the book. As much as I begged and pleaded with them that it could help, they refused. I almost don’t blame them. I was telling fat teenage boys to not only exercise and eat right, but also to read. What a bastard move. The excuse most of them gave me was “I want to lose the weight on my own.” None of them ever did. There’s nothing wrong with asking for help or taking advice. We all do it. Receiving advice is a way of not making the same mistakes other people have. Why should we all make the same mistakes over and over again? If you already know it’s not going to turn out well then skip over the heroin addiction. Nobody’s life ever got better from taking drugs. Unless they had cancer, but how can things get any worse from having cancer? Having cancer and being stuck in the hospital with Nickelback playing on loop?

Here’s some advice for you. Listen to all advice that people give you. If it seems viable, give it a shot. If it fails, you know they were a loser. You should also give out as much advice as possible. Never hesitate to offer your opinion on the matter to someone else. Most people want advice. They want to know they’re not alone and that they’re at least headed in the right direction. Lend a helping hand to others. Don’t be a fucking asshole. And most importantly, don’t insist that you can do it on your own unless you truly believe it. Most things are hard to do alone. Especially when you’re a fat teenage boy with few redeeming qualities outside of taking up space.

(At least he’s watching something with subtitles. That’s kind of like exercising, right?)

I woke up sad this morning. Actually, it wasn’t today. I’ve mentioned before that I write many of my blog postings ahead of time. So by this morning, I mean the morning that I am writing this. Actually, it’s around 6:30 now. But you don’t care about that.

For the sake of moving things alone, lets say that it was THIS morning that I woke up sad. It was a strange sadness. I didn’t have work or really any other responsibilities that I saw that I had to get done. Yet I still felt terribly depressed. What I felt I needed was comfort. Some sort of reminder of why I’m here and something to make me feel good. Because of that I am writing this, a list of things that bring me comfort.

1) Nostalgic Children’s Shows

Any time I think of television shows I watched as a kid I feel really warm and fuzzy. It’s what I imagine a hairy vagina must feel like if it had emotions. If the Illuminati work with Disney, expect a film about a group of talking vaginas to come out within the next two years. Even later on when I was way too old to watch some of these kids shows I still would. Arthur is one show that comes to mind that I watched consistently and would still probably watch if I had cable. I’ve seen most of the episodes probably close to 100 times and sometimes twice in one day. It’s comfortable and predictable. It brings me back to when my classmates didn’t have pubic hair and the only periods we knew about came at the end of sentences.

At the end of last year and the beginning of this, I got onto a huge television kick. From Netflix I rented The Adventures of Pete & Pete and then Gargoyles. Very different shows, but they brought me back to those same feelings that I reminisce about. Pete & Pete was quirky and had a lot of humor that I still don’t understand. Gargoyles was a Disney cartoon where at least one human was killed an episode. It’s the greatest cartoon of all-time and still hasn’t been matched in how continuous the storylines are or how epic it’s opening theme was. I almost wanted to cry watching it as it was Little Timmy’s favorite TV show when I was a mere 5-year-old. That delves into the idea that I wish I could be friends with myself from every year of existence and say “Hey, it’s going to be all right.” Insane, I know.

2) Zoos

I used to go to a lot of zoos when I was a kid. Shit, this is starting to turn into how everything that brings me comfort is just something that reminds me of my childhood. My childhood wasn’t fantastic, but I was never physically abused so I guess I shouldn’t complain. Zoos are still fun to go to. I went to one last year for my birthday. I love looking at animals. They’re quickly becoming a hobby of mine. They’re like celebrities but they all have the same things wrong with them. I really need to read more about weird animal facts.

The best thing about zoos are the areas where you get to pet or feed the animals. I’ve gotten to feed a giraffe which is probably the most interesting animal that I have fed. I’ve also tossed popcorn to bears and at lions at a place I used to always go to where you can feed animals popcorn. How amazing is that? Feeding grizzly bears popcorn. If that doesn’t bring you comfort then you have no heart.

3) Smiles

Whenever a stranger smiles at me I feel comfortable. That is, if it’s the right kind of smile. We know the difference between a good smile and a bad one. It all really matters if the person smiling is attractive or not. When a big fat girl smiles at me and I’m still not sure if she’s retarded or not, I feel no comfort. I feel fear and usually frown back. It’s a sure-fire way to let that animal know that you have no interest in feeding them a carrot (that’s what I fed the giraffe!)

With smiles I also would loop in compliments. Any friendly, unsolicited interaction with another human being is great. People coming up to me and saying that I look good or that they’ve seen worse always cheers me up. It makes me smile. Then they judge me if I’m attractive or not and that will determine if they feel comfort.

4) Books

This is a strange one. I don’t read all that much yet when I do I get a lot of comfort out of the books. I’d love to read more, but I just never seem to have the time. I’m always trying to write stuff of my own and that seems to take up all of my creative time that I use for words. The other creative time I use on trying to develop new sexual positions and acts to partake in. Once I learn to stand on my head and am flexible enough to eat my own ass, I will be an Internet sensation.

I’m hoping that once baseball season officially ends I will get more into reading. I’m not a super sports fan or anything, but not having cable I use listening to sports on the radio as a way of “keeping up with live reality.” It’s hard to explain to someone who hasn’t live without cable. I can get lost in time. If I have something scheduled that I cannot partake in any other time then I feel more normal. Books take me completely out of that normal feeling, which is good sometimes. Time is relative. That’s why when we’re around shitty people it feels like years instead of 30 seconds.

5) Snow

I live in an apartment now and they shovel all of the snow for me. Other than having to dig my car out, snow isn’t a problem at all. My car is all wheel drive so it handles well in the wintry goodness. Even if I do spin out, what’s the worst that will happen? I’ll land on some snow and feel happy.

Everyone clinging to their childhood (myself included) love snow because we associate it with getting off from school. I still get depressed Sunday nights because it makes me think of how I would feel when I’d have a great weekend of not leaving the house and then have to go back to school the next day. Snow’s the same way. It reminds me of Christmas and I love Christmas. I get presents and have an excuse to eat pie. If I was Jesus I would have been born in February. Winter is so depressing after Christmas when there isn’t any snow. It’s just cold. If we had Christmas in February then it would be right in the middle of the season and it wouldn’t feel so long. Or let’s have two Christmas holidays. I could go for that.