Tag Archives: hungry

Chill out, have a snack

Whenever you’re feeling agitated, ready to jump out of your skin the next time someone so much as looks at you the wrong way, take a minute, make yourself a snack. I’ve always found that getting some food in my stomach helps get rid of ninety-nine percent of whatever’s floating around in my brain that’s causing me distress. And even then, I’ll just eat some more, and that one percent is slashed, cut down to almost zero.


Does your boss get on your nerves? Is he constantly telling you to do this, to work faster, to stop standing around? Make yourself a sandwich. Go ahead and add that extra slice or two of cheese, and don’t be shy with the mayo. Let Mr. Manager get his knickers in a twist, just block out that voice and take a big bite.

Yeah, it doesn’t work immediately, I mean, you’ll still have to put up with those crazy thoughts running through your head for about ten minutes or so while your stomach digests all of that delicious turkey and bacon into whatever it is that calms down the nerves, quiets those impulses to tell your boss what’s what. And yeah, during that time, you’ll still have to stand there and listen to more of that, “What, you don’t have anything to do? I’ll give you something to do. Go put this over there. OK? That’s it? Yeah, well go get that and bring it over here.”

Just try to ignore it, walk as slow as possible, give your body a chance to metabolize all of that delicious chipotle gourmaise dressing that you used instead of mayo. Did I forget to mention that? It’s not too late, even if you’ve already added mayo, add some of this gourmaise, it’s mostly mayo anyway, only it’s got tons of spices in it, man, I could eat this stuff as a dip for chips, so don’t get skimpy, it’s got a squeeze-top nozzle, and there’s plenty more where it came from.

But if your boss is like my boss, he won’t take no for an answer, even though you’re not saying no, you’re not saying anything, you’re just chewing, you’re eating that sandwich as fast as possible so maybe you won’t be so visibly angry, it won’t be as difficult to suppress that feeling of rage bubbling barely beneath the surface, in fact, you’re not really suppressing it at all, he’s yelling at you, you’re chewing, and you’re looking him dead in the eye, your eyebrows are locked in place, if you didn’t have a mouth full of cold cuts, who knows what sort of obscenities you might start hurling?

Get out of there man, just for a second, tell him you need to go to the bathroom, don’t ask for permission to go to the bathroom, just tell him, “I’m going to the bathroom,” and then sneak out to the deli next door. Buy a black and white cookie, trust me, it just looks big because you don’t realize how hungry you still are, that that’s why you’re in such a bad mood. Eat the first one right there, before you even pay for it at the register, and then grab a second one to present to the cashier, “You know what?” you’ll tell him, “Charge me for a Mountain Dew also,” and pick it up on your way back to work.

Don’t look at your phone, it’s probably just your boss sending you some toothless threatening text message, some unoriginal, “It’s not really professional of you to …” long text message, like you’re thinking to yourself, man, what exactly is your job? How much time are you spending writing out paragraph-long text messages to an employee that just needs a snack, just give me ten minutes to eat my sandwich and cookie and take a drink of soda, Jesus Christ.

But it’s OK, by now your system should be totally flooded with whatever it is your body’s released in response to the sandwiches, to the cookies. Enjoy that comfortable buzz in the periphery of your consciousness. The next time you look your boss in the eye, just think about that cookie, maybe softly caress the Snickers bar in your pocket. I did tell you to get a Snickers, right? Just think, five minutes, ten more minutes, tops, and he’ll leave you alone. Just go to the corner for a second, make it look like you’re doing some work, don’t do it too fast, because then you’ll be back to square one, task completed, no more work to do, “No work to do? I’ll give you something to do!” Just take your time, make that menial labor last, unwrap the Snickers and take little bites now and then. You’re just hungry, it happens to everybody, just chill out, just have a snack, just wait a half an hour and then go out for a smoothie or a milkshake.

Ode to the McRib

I live right by a McDonald’s. The other day I noticed a new sign, it said that “The McRib is back!” So I walked right inside and ordered one. I love the McRib. I love everything about it, the delicious pork taste, no bones, barbeque sauce, pickles, onions. “Sorry sir, but the McRib just came back today, so, yeah, we can sell you one, but we don’t have the bread.” “That’s fine,” I said, trying not to betray my disappointment, “I’ll still take it.”

Why not just wait a day? If you don’t have the McRib bread, why even advertise, “McRib!” Why put it back on the menu? How about a sign that says, “McRib … coming soon!” I love McDonald’s, but I wouldn’t have gone in right that second had I known they were only selling something like a McRib, something that kind of looked and tasted like the McRib, but didn’t give me the whole McRib experience.

Part of what makes the McRib so unique is its unconventional shape. It’s like an oval. The bread is almost this mini baguette. It follows that it must be sold in a fitted rectangle box. The cashier handed me my bag, I brought it home, opened it up, and it was a regular square box. I didn’t know what to expect.

It wasn’t the same at all. They didn’t even put it on a regular bun, like a Big Mac bun or a Quarter Pounder bun. They put it on one of those specialty buns, something used for those fancy sandwiches that nobody ever orders anyway. It tasted good. But I was so annoyed. Every once in a while you’re at a barbeque in the summer, and there’s always tons of hamburgers and hot dogs, and it always happens, but towards the end of the party, there are always like five hotdogs left but all of the hotdog buns have been used up. But you’re so hungry, it doesn’t matter, you say to yourself, I’ll just use a hamburger bun. And then when you eat it and it doesn’t satisfy at all your craving for a hotdog you stand there, swallowing the last few bites, staring at that empty paper plate, thinking to yourself, huh, that doesn’t make any sense. It’s bread and a hotdog. Why does the shape at all alter the eating experience?

I don’t know. I don’t have any good answers. But it does. I think a lot of it has to do with the fact that some bites are going to be too heavily stacked with meat whereas other bites are going to be way too much bun. And with the McRib, this is simply unacceptable. I want every bite to have exactly the same proportions of pork, pickle, onion, sauce, and bread. Haphazardly throwing it on same knockoff artisanal loaf didn’t even come close to making it work. And let’s not forget about the rectangle box. It has to be a rectangle box. I could just tell that my McRib patty was forced in the square box, like it didn’t fit at all. The whole thing was a mess.

I went back the next day and had myself a McRib proper. What a relief. I was worried that my not so stellar McRib experience might have ruined the McRib for me altogether. But it didn’t. And that’s good, because the McRib is only a temporary item. Like I don’t know if there’s any pattern to when they bring it back, but when it comes back it’s like having one of those dreams where there’s a totally new room in your house that was always there but for some reason you never went inside, and now that you’re aware of its existence, you’re making all of these plans, like maybe it can be a game room, or a work area. You’re dream brain is filled with possibilities. But then you wake up and, bam, it was a dream. No dream room.

It’s the same with the McRib. I don’t know how long they’ll keep it back on the menu, but it’s never long enough. I promise myself every time the McRib comes back that this time I’m really going to make the most out of its availability. But I’ll always only ever buy it four or five times, tops, and then just when it’s there, just when it’s earned a place on the forefront of my consciousness, so when every time I get hungry, I automatically start thinking, McRib, I’ll walk into McDonald’s and it’s like, “Sorry, no more McRib.” “What? None? You don’t have any more McRibs? Come on. You have to have something. Nothing? I don’t care about the bread, please. Please!” McDonald’s, why do you have to do this to me? Why can’t you just keep it on the menu full time?

I’ve been toying around with the idea of doing a little project similar to that movie Super Size Me, but instead of eating only McDonald’s every day for a month, I’m going to limit myself to just McRibs, every meal, every day for a month. I don’t think it would be bad. I’m pretty convinced that the only reason that filmmaker suffered so many negative side effects was because he was wasting too much time on weird menu items, like salads, apple pies and ice cream cones. But just the McRib? That’s got everything. Meat, bread, vegetables. I could do it. And I’d love it. I’m going to go to McDonald’s right now just to make sure it’s still on the menu. I’m not going to order one though, because I’m so stupid, I got hungry earlier and I went to Subway. I totally forgot about the McRib. And how could I? I’m telling you, that’s how it is. It’s a dream sandwich, elusive, by the time you wrap your mind around it being there, poof, it’s gone.