Friday, September 13, 2013

Salad Days

8:30am. Rush hour at the men's locker room in the gym. A chaotic circus of flopping cocks; men furiously preening in mirrors. A room full of sweaty naked cocks'n'balls, straight and queer, young and old, asses and dicks all whizzing by you as they fastidiously get dressed for work.  As you wash your face, the sounds and smells of urine and bowel movements through that thick locker room air.

Suffice it to say, you want to avoid rush hour at the gym.

I've been trying to regard this latest gig not so much as a job but rather as a new workout regime.

Wake up at a certain time, to get to the gym at a certain time, to avoid that ugly cock-flop rush hour, to get to work on time.

For lunch, always a salad. From wherever we're ordering from. The least I could do to get more greens in my system is to have a salad for lunch, five times a week. Not a lot of calories being burned at a desk job, after all.

At the beginning, I figured that almost every restaurant has a few salad options. I imagined that I'd grow to enjoy these salads.

What I discovered... gradually... was that the state of the average American salad is very, very poor.


What I'm saying is, there is an art to a quality salad. A good salad can really sort you out.

But most take-out salads are just lousy.

First off, "salad" obviously doesn't necessarily mean "healthy". Some salads are nutritionally worse than Big Macs. You don't have to be a rocket surgeon to know this. If you've got a salad bogged down with eggs, bacon, fried chicken, tortilla chips and a buttercream dressing... well, you might be a redneck. A lot of the "fat-free" dressing options are so loaded with sugar, you might as well be pouring them on ice cream.

Normally, personally, I like to avoid special orders because it simply increases the risk of the restaurant screwing up — but I've become increasingly accustomed to *editing* the salads. "I'll have the Arugula Goat Cheese Salad with NO GOAT CHEESE."

It's obnoxious but it's part of the experiment. By the end of this gig, I'll have drowned myself in goddamn salads. I'll probably have doubled my lifetime intake of fruits and vegetables. All of which is neither here nor there but sometimes you've got to take these small measures toward... not being entirely unhealthy.

[Have I mentioned that this television show we're producing promises to be one of the grisliest, most violent/racist/sexist/goriest television shows ever produced? I've read six of the ten episodes. This thing will be unprecedented. No one is ready.]


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