First Date Foods to Avoid

Screw you 2005. First you stole February 29th and now you steal my health. C had a swelling of the paranoia gland that forced me to go to the dreaded doctor on Sunday morning. She claimed that stomach ache localised in the abdomen, shortness of breath, complete lack of appetite, diarrhoea, frequent urination, dehydration and headaches required professional advice. She has no faith. Surely we could have just prayed it better? But no. She bullied me with her feminine fists of fury into leaving church without talking to anyone and going straight to some quack straight out of med school.

Dr. Winnifred turned out to be about 86, seemingly suffering from Parkinson’s and wearing the suit he’d been sleeping in since his wedding night. He wasn’t a young, handsome, neurotically hilarious friend with medical knowledge who would cure what ailed me with laughter, like TV taught me doctors were. Neither was he a scary, unhinged, egotistical sociopath who would use me to boost his lagging self esteem due to childhood issues like I had been warned about in a documentary on TV.

In three minutes he earned €45. Some people would moan about this but I say, “Hey, he deserved it. I should reward efficiency”. He poked me a bit and then told me not to eat anything for a few days and I was officially sick. Which means C is legally bound to care for me, due to the “in sickness” part of “in sickness and in health”. Who ever said marriage is pointless? Caring for me, of course means serving me like a slave. But when my diet is limited to boiled 7up and 6 pieces of toast a day, my slave has plenty of time to pursue other interests.

Today though is the day for the big ill-health pay-offs because I am back on solids baby! I think I will demand a lunch of tiramasu followed by Ben and Jerrys ice-cream and a dinner consisting of pesto pasta, chilli con carne and baked Alaska. In truth I can’t eat anything spicy until Friday and no coffee till then either. I yearn for some flavoursome food. I feel like I’m trapped in Peig’s house, being served nothing but broth and black tea and deep down misery at every meal. Speaking of Peig, has anyone seen The Grudge. Some enterprising film or communications or media student should take Peig and turn her into the villain in an Irish horror. You have your target audience of generations of honours leaving cert Irish students captive. Just do it! Which is Modo Fac in latin.

Like most people with real jobs and I suspect even people with mcjobs, I work in a “team”. The team I work with differs from the team you probably work with because the ideas behind the word team actually apply to mine. That and the actual make up of the team, people wise, is likely to be different. Anyway, the team are quite close and work hard at maintaining links with each other. The highlight of the year is the post-Christmas retreat when we get together in a beach side conference centre and the eight of us chill, chat and reconnect with the reasons we do the work we do. This was to be my first staff retreat. Oh the joy I felt when I discovered it was being led by a guy I partially based my Masters thesis on.

Oh the despair I felt when my boss called me and said “I know you want to come but it is more important that you stay home, get yourself rested and ready for the new semester.” Man I hate that guy! He has it in for me. How dare he tell me to take as long as I need to get well again. I want to go to work. Where work consists of walking the cliffs of Down and talking about materialism. They had the gall to ring me this morning after their first session of the day to let me know what I had missed and to reassure me that they missed me. Urgh! Your stupid care means nothing to me when I can’t even participate in the round table discussion on Homosexuality and the Church that they are hosting later today. I had prepared and researched my position.

Seriously though, while it is a total ass bag that I am missing the retreat, it is cool to know that your employer puts such a high priority on your health. Few people have bosses who care about their health more than they actually do.

But I took his advice seriously. Yesterday, after he phoned me to ground me, I went back to bed. Then my predecessor in the job (an unbelievably great man, a major influence in my life and a close friend) rang and said he and the missus were in Dublin for a while and could we get together to hang out for a while.

Forget you guvnor! No recuperation for me. I am socialising. We’ll call it networking and put it down as job-time if it makes you, the reader, rest easier. It was agreed that the mid-point between our two locations was Liffey Valley Shopping Centre, timings were set and watches were synchronised. The fact that I was willing to go to the 5th Circle of Hell (home to the Wrathful and Sullen) shows how much I like my predecessor.

We had a fine old time. I re-acquainted myself with their daughter, who at one year is the most amazing bundle of cells and proteins bound together by a soup of dna I’ve ever come across. I can’t help but internally praise God when I see a one year old who fresh from conquering walking is now a little empiricist, investigating everything and investigating it again to her obvious delight. We talked about their grand new project which is going swimmingly and discussed books and whether we want to go to this together.

Then I came home and stayed up until 4 in the morning playing this. Its totally shit. The only redeeming thing about it is that I won by a landslide. I live with three genii (a plural for geniuses?). Beating them at any board game that isn’t Operation is an achievement for me. I mean, I live with the reigning female Irish Go champion. I even come last in Connect 4 contests. I dread the Scrabble rematch proposed by C to protect her dignity. Even if that does happen tonight, I’ll always have Go Mental to remember.

I have avoided coverage of the ‘gQuake and Tsunami as best I can. I tend to disappear into these disasters. I had a mini-nervous breakdown after 9/11. But now we are removed enough from the event for me to figure some stuff out about it. This site is essential reading. If there is hope, it lies in the technology.

Your Correspondent, Answering Phobia Quizzes For The Voices In His Head

3 Responses to “First Date Foods to Avoid”

  1. the cprrect pluril fer genius is ‘jee-nee-iiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiii’
    And of course leads to the more important qustion: is Liffey Valley located in the 4th or 5th circle of hell?
    Directions, parking, discretion, etc.

  2. Caoimhe says:

    Please, don’t get me started on the ‘I’m not a media student’ debate…………’s too tiring for a sick child comme moi.

  3. Zoomtard says:

    Caoimhe, you miss your massive wealth opportunity for today. Multimedia should make you at least 4 times more capable than your average media studies student to make the Peig horror film.