The Secret is starting to wear on me, and if it doesn’t get revealed soon, it just might ruin my life.

As the countdown to Secret Reveal 2005 draws ever closer, I find myself getting more and more manic. This is dangerous territory my friends, b/c, as anyone who knows me can attest, even without this mind-numbing secret prattling around in my brain, I’m already ¾ of the way to cuckoo.

Yeah, I’ve got a few screws loose. I’m missing a few marbles. I’m a fry or two short of a happy meal. I’m about 8 donuts short of Kristi Alley’s morning dozen. I’m a maniac, maniac on the floor and I’m kvetching like I’ve never kvetched before.

To give you an idea of the state I’m in, yesterday when Angelface suggested McDonald’s for dinner, I consented. How does Micky D fit into my health nut, wheat-free, reduced-fat, low-carb, lean-meat, pesticide-free, allergen-free, frankfurter-free, livin-la vida-lettuce lifestyle? In answer: It doesn’t’ f*ing fit at all.

Thankfully, whilst looking into the pimpled, dimpled face of a boy whose employee nametag said “John,” I had a moment of clarity. For a brief moment, the fog in my brain dissipated, and like the good little nutrition nerd I am, I had the state of mind to order a double cheese w/o the bun and side salad instead of greezy mcgeezy French fries. And because bunless double cheese does not a full stomach make, I rather (seemingly sensibly) decided to up the stakes in the game of Russian roulette that was playing out my gut, and dump some hot fudge sundae down my gullet.

Perhaps to atone for the sins of the sundae, my next stop was to Louise’s Pet Connection where I proceeded to purchase the most expensive (i.e. organic, antioxidant-infused, wheat-free, chemical-free, beef-free, lamb-free, herring oil and turkey neck-enriched)
cat food known to man. At $7.00 a pound, my cats better start leaving little golden nuggets in their box, instead of those smelly, lumpy, make-you-wanna-vomit stink bombs I found this morning.

I blame it all on The Secret. The stress is really getting to me. Last night I couldn’t sleep a wink. I’m cranky, crusty, and suffering from intestinal distress (thank you Micky mutha f*’n D). To boot, my cankles are swollen, I’ve got a horrific patch of backne, and Mt. Vesuvius is threatening to explode off the left side of my temple.

All I can say is, oy vei. And yeah, I’m sorry to have this Secret between us. But like a bad dream with a kick ass ending, it will all be over soon. For the love of all that’s good, great and holy, let’s hope it will all be over soon.

Posted in Food, Mixed Bag