A short Ode to the Bean and Cheese Burrito

Some things are best left in their simplistic form.  There are a lot of items that are just as perfect in their simplicity as they are tricked to the inth degree.  Bacon is one such example.  A thick strip of perfectly cooked bacon is one of the most enjoyable items in the world.  Yet, you can easily throw it on a burger, wrap it around a scallop, dip it in pancake batter and make breakfast suckers, or eat it the way I did as a kid and place it between my fingers like wolverine’s claws; food can also be a weapon when you’re a child… or 35.

The bean and cheese burrito is like this.  It’s not as wonderful as bacon, but it gets the job done perfectly.  It’s the significant other whose a solid 6 in the looks department, amazing with kids (or not if you’re my SO), you’re friends love her, and she never gone bat shit crazy in front of you.  She’s very affable but she doesn’t do any one thing outstanding, she’s just slightly above average in everything.  That’s the bean and cheese burrito.  A good tortilla, re fried beans, and cheese; I prefer the mixed cheese but some queso blanco is also fine.  It’s not going to blow anyone’s mind or create 5 stars on Yelp but it will fill you up any time of the day.  You get some protein, some carbs, and some veggies (salsa) to either start your day or power you through that drive home.  Adding some carnita’s or barbacoa, cilantro, sour cream and avocado and you’ve got a far superior meal but you also a giant Los Lupes style meal that’s going to put you to sleep after that 15- 20 minute bathroom break you absolutely have to make.  And you better be near a clean restroom, otherwise you’ll end up doing the dirty behind a tree you sprinted to while using that left sock to clean up. Give me the simple bean cheese taco for most meals and I’m set.

I had a Cancer Baby and Aborted It Pt. 1

In late August as I finished drafting what would be my eventual 3rd place team in the football fanatics fantasy league my friend Grandall just completed his required 6 hour "How to tell if your dental patient has cancer class".  This was note worthy because I was 4 gin and tonics and 3 Miller lites into celebrating what I hoped would not be the third year of finishing 3rd in the league but also because he suddenly became aware of a strange brown cloud like design on my upper left shoulder.  Nestled between a couple tattoos was, what I can best describe as three different colored brown clouds coming together with a bright red center.  I have no idea how long it had been there and never noticed it before in my life.  After examining it his conclusion, along with everyone eles there, was that I had to go get this checked out.

Being a man, and one that does not have a primary care physician nor seen a doctor for anything but broken bones and muscle tears but has had health insurance for over 10 years I didn't immediately go.  I might have waited a little longer than I should have. After multiple threats from his wife about not going to my funeral when I die from cancer I looked online and picked one Aetna told me was within the 2 mile bubble of work and home. So I scheduled an appointment for the next week, which happened to fall the week before Turkey Day, which also meant the Grandall's would be in town.  I had to take care of this so I wouldn't get yelled at for my impending death from the whole family.  That's really the only reason I went in November. 

The dermatologist looked at it and said he was pretty certain it was cancerous and had to come off.  He also wanted to do a full run down of my moles and spots.  You never know how many there are until you're spread eagle on a table when a guy is calling out 8,000 different moles of various sizes and their dimensions to someone jotting them down.  It's a wonder every woman who ever saw me naked didn't shriek away in terror at the sight of all those moles, damn German/ English ancestry. After needing an excel spreadsheet to log my mutations he put me on my side and carved out a nickel size of skin. He explained it would need to sent to a lab for testing but I should be prepared to come back and donate some more skin and tissue.  He was pretty adamant the skin was positive for melanoma.  Sure enough. I went back and donated some more shoulder to the cancer cause. He carved a little farther down and a little more around the area, this time it looked fine but he still had to send it in.   This next sample also came back positive for Melanoma both horizontal and vertical.  He referred me to a surgeon and used doctor speak to say "Don't fuck around with this- we're in serious mode now". 

I picked a nice sounding German name, I've had good luck with my people as doctors in the past, and went to Medical City.  I walked past numerous people crying and held the elevator door open for a women in her late 30's who quietly sobbed out a 'thank you'.  This is not what you want to see as you're going to the cancer doc.  We both got off on the 7th floor and right in front of me was  sign for an office that said "Terminal Cancer Ward".  WHAT THE FUCK???  Whoever does the room assignments for medical city should be fired.  I'm not in marketing or logistics but don't put the damn death ward as the first thing you see when you get off the elevator. Jesus, people. The room number for Das Doktor was all the way down the hall.  Since it was Christmas time I heard carols played over the loud speaker at a very loud volume.  I passed 2 separate families huddled together crying in front of another office that said "Terminal Heart and Organ Center".  This just keeps getting better.  People are crying down every hall because they just got last rites and god damn "Frosty the snowman, was jolly happy soul" is blaring at me.  Maybe the volume was so loud to drown out the crying.  Whatever it was I realized they put everyone that has any possibility of dying together on one floor.  Childhood Lymphoma- check, Heart Failure- check, I was pretty sure if I went far enough down the hall I'd find the Ebola ward with that hot Asian nurse in it.

I filled out 30 something different forms and about 1,000 that related to insurance.  Then waited 45 minutes past the time of my appointment.  Has there ever been a doctor anytime in the history of medicine who was remotely on time?  They took me into a room decorated with African art everywhere; spears, masks, rugs, I think there was even the dashiki James Earl Jones wore in 'Coming to America'. I sent a snap chat of a few photos to my friend Tae who was impressed that I was at an African Art museum on a Tuesday at 9:45am.  I didn't explain it was a doctor's office, just took the props of being rich with culture and waited another 20 minutes for Heir Biertsch to come in.  They set me up to an ultra sound machine and he noticed it my lymph nodes were inflamed. When he said "There it is" I looked at him with a serious face and said "So... I'm pregnant. With a cancer baby".  Germans, don't have the best sense of humor.  Apparently older white female PA's and young attractive Mexican assistants don't either.  He promptly walked out of the room and left me in their care.  They ran an EKG on me through my feet, not sure if this is normal or he was getting me back for the cancer baby comment.  After that I waited another 20 minutes for his explanation that one of my lymph nodes was inflamed and since both sets of skin came back positive for Melanoma they needed to do surgery either today or the next day to remove 2 lymph nodes and some more skin. Fuuuuuuuuuuck.......

Not Drinking for 30 Days is Stupid

Around the end of December I finally received the email I had been dreading.  My adult soccer league was going to start back up on February 15th.  Along with the normal holiday shenanigans such as eating too many pumpkin flavored items, drinking more than I should with friends home for the season, and gorging myself on egg nog I also had a cancer baby aborted in my shoulder.  Due to this little melanoma issue I wasn't able to run or lift weights for a few weeks.  I definitely didn't have some giant workout regime planned or commit to joining a crossfit cult but I was off work for 2 weeks and some of that to be spent playing golf and mountain biking.  Instead it was spent watching Korean/ Japanese/ and Indonesian karate movies on NetFlix while devouring red baron pizzas (the best crap pizza out there IMO).  I tried running once, two weeks after the surgery I busted open the stitches on my upper deltoid.  Meh.... Then the email from Pat came about the season on December 30th and I realized I had 6ish weeks to get in Shape.  That's when this brilliant idea came to me. Why don't I quit drinking for January to assist getting back in match shape.  Last season didn't start off so hot for our team and if there's anyway I can get in slightly better shape than I was when the season ended maybe we wouldn't lose every single game we played.  The one game we won was by forfeit.  It was the day after #Teamginger tied the knot and they called in to forfeit before we could do the same thing.

1st Week- The first week wasn't too bad.  I made sure to drink frat boy style on NYE so even hearing the word alcohol made me queasy for a couple days.  I spent the first weekend watching Red Box movies and cleaning.  I vacuumed, cleaned the ever living shit out of bathroom, did laundry, actually put up the laundry instead of throwing it on my bed, then staring at it, then saying I'd put it up, then just throwing it all on into a pile on the floor when it was time to go to bed.  The Cowboys made the playoffs with game one against the Lions.  There was no way I was going to The Hub to meet my group of friends.  Most of them said things like "Just go and drink water" or "I'll make sure you don't drink"...  Sorry none of that is possible; I'm not built that way.  That's like taking a straight guy to the Victoria's Secret swimsuit shoot during the body paint scenes and telling him to just stare at the ocean and collect sea shells.  Also, even though my friends said they wouldn't let me drink I know better.  If the tables were reversed and I smelled weakness in them I would poke the bear.  I would think of every reason possible- Especially once Dallas won.  Then I could pull out the "We haven't won a playoff game in 20 years, even Aikman is drinking and he never does. He doesn't believe in it and Troy Freaking Aikman is drinking a beer on National TV".  Even though Troy didn't drink a beer on TV and has no issue with drinking at all this totally made up fact would help guilt said friend into drinking.  Another good line I've used on Nancy boy during rosh hashanah is the ol "one shot won't hurt- you're an adult and you can limit yourself to one shot".  You probably think I'm a terrible person for doing this, and I am and I'm proud of it.  I would be equally disappointed if my friends didn't also smell the blood in the water and circle me with Peticolas, Rumple, Gin, and made up stories to break me.  If they didn't, they would't be my friends and I'd lose all respect for them.

2nd Week- again, not too bad.  I don't usually drink during the week because work is always one email away from a never ending fire drill.  I worked out three times during the week and was constantly busy right up until the weekend started.  Friday afternoon and another Red Box session which included the Equalizer with Denzel (decent action, horrible storyline and just unbelievable in the tard script writing department), Guardians of the Galaxy (again), and Lego Movie (3rd time and everything was still awesome).  I cooked dinner for Swa & E then went to bed around 1am.  Fully awake at seven freaking thirty I did what I assumed most adults that have kids or hate their life due to distract them for being bored- I started cleaning.  After doing this pretty thoroughly last weekend I knew exactly where to start,  I threw a load in the laundry, cleaned up the living room from my binge on gummi bears, gummi coke bottles, and sour patch kids.  Then started vacuuming followed by the bathroom and kitchen in between drinking 8 cups of coffee.  I was finished up with everything but my laundry and it wasn't even 10:00.  What the hell was I supposed to do for now.  I checked the EPL times and ran down to our theater room to watch some matches.  After it was over I met a friend up at Brookhaven and we played soccer.  I got home around 3:00 and had nothing to do.  There isn't anything else on Red Box, I've cleaned my apartment so much it smells like bleach, and NetFlix hasn't loaded any other new Karate movies.  They added some bollywood crap but I can't swing that.  How the hell I am supposed to believe this guy named 'The Don' (real original) is this stone cold killer and world wide drug dealer when he breaks into show tunes every 20 minutes?  I down loaded a few new books on my iPad- eye fucked a bottle of Stag's Leap petite syrah that's in my wine fridge and then went to sleep.  Sunday started horribly with Man U playing Southampton and losing at home 0-1 (LVG- quit this nonsense with 3-5-2.  Di Maria and Herrera in the middle in a 4-4-2 with Rooney up top next to RVP/ Falaco).  Up next was Cowboys V Packers and I again sat at my house to watch.  I had some friends out at a bar and others were at a house watching party.  I could've gone there but everyone was a Packer fan.  My friend Cassie isn't a good winner or loser- she talks a lot of shit either way and that wouldn't have been good.  Knowing how it ended with that bull shit call on Dez I'm glad I didn't attempt to meet any one out.  Going from the highest of highs on a 4th and 2 catch to win the game to a non-catch and turn over on downs.... I hate sports.  I'm taking up knitting and sports can suck it.  God, I hate sports.

3rd week- Another friday and me and the CVS employees are beginning to get tight.  They know they can count on me every Friday afternoon to get a mix of gummi candy and other sugar items.  I know my mouth waters when I walk past the booze isle and see Shiner Holiday Cheer is on sale.  Not a lot went on this weekend.  I played soccer, ran, cleaned again, and then went to Cassie's to watch Packers V Seahawks with her husband, their 2 year old and their 4 year old.  Packers imploded and lost and after 3 plus hours in the company of screaming children whose sole ambition in life is to put sheer terror into the other one and their parents I needed to binge on something.  I called Pizza hut on the way home and ordered a large cheese stuffed crust pizza with pepperoni, sausage, and pineapple.  Just so I wouldn't feel to guilt ridden I txt Maily and told her to come over for pizza.  I didn't expect her to, nor did i really want her too.  I wanted silence and eat my self into a freaking meat and cheese coma.  If I couldn't have a beer or a bag of double stuff Oreo's with milk to binge on this pizza would have to do the trick.
We had Monday off for MLK day which again presented its own challenges of what to do.  Being the most productive adult ever I re-cleaned my bathroom, re-vacuumed, and cleaned out and rearranged one of my closets.  Being this kind of adult sucks

4th week- My boss is back from India now.  He wanted to head over to happy hour and talk EPL matches and Man U but I had to tell him I'm not drinking for another week.  He was confused, his cheeks moved up and his left eye twitched in morse code to ask me "why would you do such a thing?"  I didn't have an answer and sulked away like someone who just broke up with a girlfriend for reasons even he didn't understand.  I made my way to CVS and realized I've seen everything there is to see; I left with the requisite gummi fix and no movies.  Another Saturday and another round of cleaning.  You know, I even took apart my Dyson to clean it.  Not just the normal filter clean but took it all apart and wiped it all down with a wet towel inside and out.  With only one load of laundry to do and 14 hours to kill since we're in a sports black hole  I grabbed my soccer ball and went to the pitch.  After a few hours there I went to lunch with a friend and hit every soccer store around the DFW area, Followed that up with the Richardson Bike Mart and went to the grocery store.  I was home with 6 more hours till midnight.  I could either go to bed now like the near deads or find some reason to stay up.  I read some more, combined a bunch of seasoning for a pork loin I would cook the next day and then went to bed listening to Van Morrison.  Minus the cats I've become my mom.

This is the last week of this god awful experiment.  A few people have said I need to find friends that don't drink to hang out with.  Yeah, I tired that- and you didn't hear anything about them in the above paragraphs did you?  They're boring as fuck!  You know those meme's that state "No god story ever started with I was sober when...".  It's true, it's all true.  Alcohol, the partying, all of it is needed.  The weekend is far too long to be sober through it all, you get everything done you ever hoped to in the first 2 weeks.  I've vacuumed every weekend for the last 4 weeks- I can't prove it but I'm sure that's bad for my floors.  I've gone through a whole bottle of bleach powered bathroom cleaner.  I've decided the hangover is there for you.  You need this bit of self loathing while wishing for a quick death so your floors will last longer.  You need to remove thought from your brain for a couple hours every weekend so you don't spiral down the bleach cleaning rabbit hole of bathroom lore.  When you drink you're borrowing happiness from tomorrow.  And that's a good thing.  You shouldn't be up that many hours in a day.  You need to sleep in, you need to binge watch season 12 of Family Guy on NetFlix while sleeping through a few episodes here and there when it's focused on Meg.  You need to be out with friends when you've all had a little too much to drink and your tongues are a little too lose so you say things you only can when you're inebriated.
That's the conclusion I've come to during this challange.  Maybe that sounds crazy, and if it does then it proves my point. Alcohol makes a few of us crazy people sane to the rest of you for a short period in time,