Moonlighting with Obama

I went to CNN.com to complete my normal news rotation that I glance at every morning and this sweepstakes was at the top right of the web page:

http://www.barackobama.com/rules/dinner-with-barack

Other than the fact that maybe Obama should be probably focusing on something more important, this is awesome! Imagine walking up to a restaurant (one that costs more than your house) and casually having this conversation with the hostess:

You: “Should be a table for 4, meeting my bud Barack.”

Hostess: “Oh wow really?”

You: “Yeah, we’re here to discuss some boilerplate stuff, like providing economic opportunity for an entire nation. You know, typical Tuesday.”

You’d totally have to set it up so dinner was on a Tuesday.

Then, after looking like a complete badass entering the restaurant, you get to eat a golden lobster with a side of  grilled celery, bedazzled with your choice of diamonds.

At this moment, sitting across from the President of the United States of America, you would get the one opportunity to say whatever you wanted.

What would you say?

Taco Bell Should Have Luxury Bathrooms

This is seriously one of the best ideas that I’ve ever come across. It’s of those thoughts that got discovered through a progressive “What if” conversation. It happened when my friends and I were playing a game of flip cup and we were following standard friday night procedure. I was on the team “The Magical Sea Horsies” with my brother and we were competing against the technically-sound duo, “That 70’s Girl”. One of the girls on the team was dressed like a typical vagabond gypsy from the 70’s and so obviously we made fun of her. My brother and I were winning super easily because girls aren’t natural born athletes, and it also helped that these two girls didn’t have the necessary dexterity to match our consistent flips.

It all comes down to discipline. Five flips a day is all you need to make the collegiate flipping circuit. Unfortunately for these girls, they weren’t determined enough to keep a good practice regiment to stand a chance against us. They lost four in a row when the one dressed like a T.V icon from 30 years ago had to go to the bathroom. It is in that hygienic lair where she came across my iPad casually perched on my toilet.

“Why is your iPad by your sink?” she asked me. “I feel like that’s a dangerous spot for it.”

I responded sarcastically, “I usually like to run it under hot water, but I got sidetracked today.”

I further explained to her that reading should only take place in bed or on the toilet. That is when we put two and two together.

What place has a toilet that you are biologically forced to use after going there?

Taco Bell. And definitely Baja fresh but no one goes there anymore after Chipotle mouth-raped our taste buds. The point is, what if Taco bell had luxury bathrooms with leather cushions on the toilets and iPads chained to the toilet paper dispenser?

To help you visualize our vision of one day enjoying a Taco Bell experience, I have outlined here what would happen if they implemented luxury bathrooms and free iPad usage:

1) You go inside and order food.

2) You eat the greasy nectar that you just ordered.

87 seconds later…

3) You start leaking poop.

4) You go to the bathroom and read comfortably on leather cushions until your body purges the mad cow disease you just ingested.

What the 4th step is without luxury bathrooms and free iPad usage:

4) You get skid marks on your underwear on the car ride home and  you start doing that awkward wobbly walk to your own toilet like when you reallllly have to go to the bathroom.

It’s weird that a restaurant that forces us to have diarrhea and skid marks would not take care of our restroom needs ahead of time. It would save us the trouble of having to clean our own messes after it looks like we microwaved a giant, chocolate marshmellow and exploded it all over our bathroom walls.

Potato Chips are Cruel

It’s midnight and being the fat body that I am, potato chips came to mind. For an initial second I craved them. I really wanted them inside me, but then I remembered something. A terrible memory struck my thoughts and my body became instantly filled with hatred. I could never forgive Lays for what she did to me exactly 10 years ago when I first met her. I was 11, filled with vibrant youth and newly acquired testosterone. Oh she looked so promising, her foily exterior was so succulent and she would undoubtedly provide me with more than enough oral pleasure for at least the next couple of days, I thought. She would even be able to take care of my brother. I paid for her and quickly took her back to my place. When we arrived,  my body was filled with adolescence and I could no longer fight my strong urges. I placed her on my kitchen counter and began to slowly tear her bright yellow dress to only find out the cold hard truth. It was all a sham. She wouldn’t be able to satisfy me for even ten minutes. How could I be so stupid? Her package was craftily protruding far out when I first saw her. She was alluring, but I returned home to discover she was faking it all along. She was only a third full. I will never trust again, I thought. After a few minutes of accepting the harsh reality of our relationship, I finally proceeded to eat her out of the bag anyways.

An Eater’s Dilemma

Since I have the week off for Thanksgiving break, I’ve been sleeping at my parent’s house the past couple of days. Usually my time here goes well and stress free, but this morning I ran into one of the biggest problems I’ve ever had to face. Choosing between a fork and a spoon to eat lunch can impact the outcome of your entire day. If you choose the wrong one, your eating experience will go awry and you’ll get that boring, unsatisfied feeling in your stomach as you get up and walk away.  As I pulled open the sleek, red drawer where my mom keeps her eating utensils, I realized I could not decide which tool I should use for the ambiguous meal I had prepared. A gooey Alfredo sauce covered the dish so at first I was tricked into wanting a spoon; however, there was also small bits of chicken and noodles mixed in. These bogies floating in the soupy sauce indicated that I needed a fork to pick them up properly. But what if I was unable to scoop up enough sauce with a fork to compliment the noodles and chicken? With a spoon I could potentially dig up everything in one swoop, but would I get more sauce than I wanted? After much consideration and staring at the shiny stainless steel drawer for two and a half minutes, I ultimately settled on using a fork. With finesse and raw determination, I was able to pick up the right amount of chicken and noodles, and then dip them gently into the sauce to get a well-balanced bite in my mouth. Once I was finished, I carried my plate to the dishwasher in a state of utter satisfaction. I made the right choice this time, but who knows what will happen tomorrow.