Wednesday, January 23, 2019

Going bananas

I broke a girl's heart today. Actually, more like shattered her world. I didn't take any pride in it. But it's not the first time it's happened and it probably won't be the last.

The why isn't the important part. It's the how. I told her how many calories are in a banana.

It's not something I planned, but somehow the truth always comes out. Especially when you're having casual office talk—as one does—about edible fruit that grows in bunches produced by several kinds of large herbaceous flowering plants in the genus Musa.

Did you know the banana is actually botanically a berry? You're welcome.

Anyway here's the thing: I've started logging all the food I shove into my piehole on an app called My Fitness Pal. The reasons are varied, everything from being tired of my doctors telling me to lose some weight (I get that a lot) to the three pairs of pants I can barely squeeze into looking at me, smiling, and saying, "Tight enough for you fat boy?"

One of the things this app does is break down the nutritional make up of the items on my daily menu. And because I happen to like a little Potassium In My Diet—capped because it was also the title of my first album—bananas are a morning staple.

When I entered it in the app, come to find out a medium sized banana is a 110 calories. I told this to my friend Nicole. Apparently, I've altered her world forever. And not in a good way.

Her thinking, and I have to say I agree, is that if there were any justice in the world bananas would only be around 60 or 70 calories. It's unimaginable they can cross over the century calorie mark. Yet the facts are what they are.

And if we start denying facts, it's a slippery slope (see what I did there?).

Anyway, on the bright side, there are many other ways to consume bananas that are a lot worse for you, calorically speaking. While you're looking at pictures of the high-calorie banana items below, I'll be in the kitchen drinking my eighth glass of water and choking down my third and last Ak Mak cracker for the day.

And swearing like a drunk longshoreman.

Monday, January 21, 2019

It Reins in Southern California

There are many things I look forward to each day. Seeing my family, working with people I like (you know who you are), driving along the coast as my commute. And of course, the five seconds before Jeopardy comes on the air.

That's when Eyewitness News airs the nightly Dallas Reins promo.

For those in the dark with low cloud cover, Dallas Reins is the channel 7 Los Angeles Eyewitness News meteorologist. He's been on the air here forever, and is as much an L.A. landmark as the Hollywood sign, Bowl or Boulevard.

The overly dramatic presentation Reins is known for consists of three essential elements: flat hand. Point. Fist. All wrapped up with a gravelly voice telling us to tune in.

I find it wildly entertaining. I believe he has honed the presentation for years, and like the pro he is, makes it look effortless.

The best entertainers and meteorologists do.

Tuesday, January 8, 2019

2019. Day 8.

Like most people I know, I couldn't wait for 2018 to be over. For reasons we're all too well aware of it had been an extremely stressful year. But as we turn the page into 2019, I'm feeling something I haven't felt since the Kenyan was president: hope.

The democratic house has already started their job. The first thing they did was pass a bill to reopen the government, a bill which Senate Majority Leader and chin mogul Mitch McConnell will not allow to get to the senate floor. Democrats will also be subpoena-ing everyone in the shithole president's world to expose his already on display House 'O Corruption.

Then, superhero Robert Mueller will most likely have some late Christmas presents in the form of evidence, indictments and maybe even the final report on Russia.

The unstable genius continues to be isolated in the White House, and the world watches and laughs while he implodes. His government shutdown is backfiring faster than a '38 Ford, and his constant badmouthing of the generals of the U.S. Armed Forces make me confident they won't let him launch a missile during a temper tantrum.

Tonight the networks, in a serious lapse of judgement, are giving the Liar In Chief airtime to make his case for his bullshit wall directly to the American People. I have it on good authority it'll be the best prime time comedy tonight. Funny to everyone, except the 800,000 federal employees and their families who are being financially and emotionally ruined because of his juvenile, ignorant, narcissistic temper tantrum.

Then towards the end of the month we have his State of the Union speech to look forward to. He's constitutionally required to give one each year. I have a feeling it'll go a little something like this:

TRUMP: The state of our union is strong, very strong. So strong you wouldn't believe it, but trust me, it's really strong.

AUDIENCE: (Hysterical laughter and spit takes for the next 30 minutes)

For whatever reason, and maybe it's my blood pressure medicine, I feel there's a actually a chance that this bottomless pit of neo-Nazi, racist, misogynist, homophobic, traitorous, lying, cheating ugliness he's unleashed in the country might gradually be shamed into crawling back under its rock.

I'm hopeful even his base—and really, was there ever a better word to describe his supporters—who apparently like strong white men, must be getting tired of their whining, tiny-handed, porn-star banging, pussy-grabbing crybaby yelling wolf and fake news all the time. Especially now that they've seen exactly how little their paychecks went up, if at all, post-Republican tax reform.

So as far as I'm concerned, 2019 is a clean slate to turn this ship around. Okay, mixed metaphors, but you see where I'm going here. Let's get after it 2019.

To quote Hamilton, history has it's eyes on you.