Witz DOESN'T Pick: Involuntary Bulimia and Shaking Like A Polaroid Picture

Tuesday's post was described by some of my readers as "Confusing," by others as, "not your best," and by one avid fan as, "Awful." I admit that my Memorial Day post was weak at best, but rather than take full responsibility for choosing to write about a story where I DON'T get pulled over by the police, I'd like to defer some blame to my stomach. You see, my stomach must have thought it needed to squeeze into a dress for the prom, because starting at 9am Tuesday, I became the world's most dedicated involuntary bulimic.

The problem with waking up and feeling sick in your stomach is that you don't know if you're sick or just hungry. So you start talking to it like it's a small child and feed it things in the hopes of feeling better:

WITZ: Do you like cereal? (eat cereal)
STOMACH: No, go away.
WITZ: Do you like toast and peanut butter?
STOMACH: I said no, stop it.
WITZ: Do you like Triscuits and cheese?
STOMACH: I will kill you.
WITZ: Do you like Lemon-Lime Gatorade?
STOMACH: That's it, let's do this thing.

Ya ever simultaneously throw up and feel like you pulled multiple chest and back muscles from doing so? I'm like the David Copperfield of poor health. Also, when people say Jesus is inside each and every one of us, do they mean he's in our stomachs performing miracles? Because how else am I able to eat THREE triscuits and moments later have what must be an entire box of woven grains powering back out the old mouth hatch? Chanukkah Part 2.

At night, my stomach decided to take a break and gave my body the opportunity to play a game called, "Let's Pretend You Just Quit Heroin Cold Turkey." If you want a quick way to workout your back and abs, but can't afford that little electric belt thing, just try to SHIVER UNCONTROLLABLY for a while. My friends Nitro and Diep Dish came by to drop off Gatorade ("So naturally, we called it Gator-Ade." Two things: 1) I guarantee a sick Jew huddled around a toilet shivering was not the initial target demographic of Gatorade and 2) Then why didn't you name it "Gator-AID??" I guess to be fair, they probably dodged a bullet given that once AIDS got huge, it would be more than a little awkward to ask a buddy to get some "Gator-AIDS" if he has the chance. The real winner though is Powerade. Nobody wants to get "Poweraids.") and as I left my bed to meet them, dressed from head to toe in gray sweat-gear (special thanks to K-Mitch for the sweatshirt that is extremely comfortable and will now haunt my memories), I felt as though I had just jumped naked into a snowbank. We tried to make conversation, but it was probably clear I wasn't up for it, and here's why: You know in movies when someone is touched by a ghost and suddenly gets really really cold? THAT'S HOW I FELT ALL THE TIME. Nobody wants to be the last person to see you before you die, so the two hurried along and I hustled back into bed.

My body then began repeating the same question in a less than subtle manner. It asked me, in very clear and precise terms, if I would rather live in THE ARCTIC CIRCLE...or...THE SAHARA DESERT?? Which one, Witz? ARCTIC? SAHARA? ARCTIC? SAHARA? My answer, incidentally, is The Arctic Circle. You can only get so naked before you're just a sweaty naked guy with no more options, but you can always throw on another baby seal coat. Anyway, there's only so much a guy can take before he calls him Mom to blame her for everything.

RING RING

Witz's Mom: Hello?
Witz: Remember yesterday when you asked if I was feeling OK, and I said yes, I actually haven't been sick in a while?
Witz's Mom: Yeah?
Witz: Way to jinx it. I have a fever and my stomach is putting the Bellagio Fountain to shame.
Witz's Mom: Oh no! Well, you probably have swine flu.
Witz: What!?
Witz's Mom: I told you you'd get swine flu!
Witz: You TOLD me?? I'm not even Mexican!
Witz's Mom: Yep. (pause) I bet you didn't shower with salt did you?
Witz: No, I didn't shower with salt! Why were you jinxing me with swine flu?? Haven't you read The Secret???
Witz's Mom: If you'd used salt like I told you...
Witz: Right. This is my fault. Because I didn't bring a shaker of Morton's into the tub with me.
Witz's Mom: I'm just saying.

CLICK

When your own mom assumes you're going to get swine flu it's time to re-evaluate your life. I pounded some Nyquil and waited for sleep to have its way with me. Since my body was already taken care of, sleep decided to destroy me mentally. Throughout the night, I had no fewer than three major stressful things in my life resolve themselves positively. What a nice, nice, relaxing sleep. THEN I WOKE UP. Boom. How's reality, motherfucker? Woot. Shattered. As my brain and body high fived, and I leaned into the business end of a Safeway Paper Bag*, I had one single thought that gave me hope:

At Least I'll Have Something To Post About,
Witz

*Now imagine that a Safeway Paper Bag has thoughts and lives only to serve its noble purpose of temporarily storing and transporting groceries. Now imagine it being used as an emergency vomit receptacle. (In a high pitched voice) "Light at last! I am ready deserving shopper! I await the bounty that you have purchased! Good good, place in me now your-- OH DEAR GOD!!!! WHAT IS HAPPENING!? AHHHHHH! AHHHHHHH! AHHHHHHHHHHH!"

Witz Pickz: Memorial Day Miracle

As everybody knows, it is nearly impossible to honor anybody appropriately without grilling meats and drinking beers-- especially those who fought for our country. Memorial Day is practically synonymous with "BBQ" and it makes sense to me. Much like the eucharist in church (Yep, I know your secrets), the grilled meat represents the delicious flesh of those who served and the beer represents the blood of those brave men and women...with roughly a 5.4% alcohol content. Drink enough beers and eat enough grilled meat and you too can experience just a little bit of the physical and emotional pain of war.

My friends and I, therefore, understood that it was our duty as Americans (and I've been feeling more and more American the closer I get to collecting unemployment) to grill meats and drink beers last night, despite the cold, dank weather. In the face of this adversity, we all piled into my Humvee-- er-- station wagon-- and headed to the civilian supply depot...called Safeway. There were six of us in my five person vehicle, because you know what's not scaring off America's enemies? The phrase, "Click it or Ticket." We made it to the store without incident, deployed to the appropriate aisles, and rallied back to the vehicle ready to go. We had acquired beer, steaks, burger meat, Clausen pickles*, kabobs (because one of my friends is a terrorist) and a pack of pizza Lunchables (which was weird and unrelated).

The drive back began smoothly and without incident. We were mere minutes from the house when we came around a bend in the road and saw the ambush. Cops. A car had been pulled over on the side of the road and on the opposite side, waiting for us to drive past, was another car, officer still inside. We needed only to get by the two cops to the stop signs and we'd be home free. It was still daylight out and at least one of my passengers sitting on another's lap was not click-it-ed. I did not want to be ticketed.

Keeping my calm, I made a flagrantly guilty right turn and proceeded to the far end of the street, to where a sign stated "Right Turn Only." I made a left and we proceeded beyond the parking lot and back up another street to approach the stop signs from the opposite side, avoiding the police. From our vantage point, we could see the cops, and as we approached, we watched as the cop car pulled forward, through the intersection to intercept us. We were effed. As our car approached the stop sign where the cop had setup perpendicular to us (so when we passed them, they would be behind us), we all had basically the same imagined dialogue:

COPS: So it appears that you all went DRAMATICALLY out of your way to avoid us, including going down a street where you HAD to have made an illegal left turn to end up where you are right now...sooo...is that an asian girl in your lap or are you just happy to see me?

Why can't it ever be both?! As we got to the cop car, the driver stuck his hand out and waved us by him-- a motion I took to mean, "We don't have all day to ticket you, so hurry up, this is inevitable." We rolled by the cop and got to our four way stop sign. Stop. Signal. Edge out. Turn. We waited and looked back, but nothing happened. When the cop was out of sight I sped up the hill and back to the house. We had made it. We had gone completely out of our way only to be tracked down by the cop car and then waved on by him without incident. It was a Memorial Day Miracle (and also just a really poorly done job by the police).




Good Thing They Didn't See the Kabobs,
Witz


*Clausen Kosher Dill Pickles are goddamn amazing. It also feels like the Germans trying way too hard to make up for WWII:

GERMAN 1: How are we going to make up for these atrocities?
GERMAN 2: What if we made reparations by way of delicious pickles?
GERMAN 1: Hm, I like it. Sweet gerkins?
GERMAN 2: No no, they have to be kosher.
GERMAN 1: Oh, right.
GERMAN 2: We'll make delicious Kosher Dill pickles. The Jews will love us!
GERMAN 1: Excellent! And we'll place them in the refrigerated section away from all the other pickles!
GERMAN 2: Wait, why?
GERMAN 1: No apparent reason!....c'mon, give me this one man, you turned down the sweet gerkins idea...
GERMAN 2: Fine-- deal!

Witz Pickz: Supermarket Best Friends & Costco Sized Philanthropy

The Safeway grocery store by my house is known as the Safeway where single people go to be seen...theoretically seen buying toilet paper, frozen pizzas, and anti-itch cream, but seen all the same. I'm not sure if any couples have ever emerged from the Marina Safeway scene, but I do know that, in classic Witz fashion, I now have a super best friend.

The other night, I was standing by the deli, waiting to buy some turkey, when the guy in front of me ordered, "1/2 a pound of turkey..." and then said the six words that let him into my heart: "...and can you slice that thin?"

For some reason, the west coast serves up deli meats unlike anywhere I have been before. Instead of taking your order and slicing what you want, they have displays of different meats, pre-cut and haphazardly thrown in a heap. It's the "abusive husband" way of displaying meat. It's as if they're saying, "No matter how poorly we treat you, you're gonna keep coming back because we're all you've got." And they're right. So what I have started doing is asking for them to slice the turkey at a different thickness so I know my turkey is fresh (and I like thin sliced turkey as opposed to the GD thanksgiving portions slices they have pre-cut). This usually results in me getting a glare from the woman behind the counter, an awkward piece of test turkey (awesome), and generally fresher turkey than I would have gotten.

So when I heard those six words come out of my mystery friend's mouth, I knew I'd found somebody special. I got cocky, like, "This guy is gonna get so psyched when he hears me order..." and started getting anxious, hoping I wasn't going to freak out and say, "and thin can turkey slice?" After some hapless woman ordered roast beef straight from the display it was my turn.

"I'd actually like the turkey too, please."
"Turkey?"
"Yeah-- and could I actually have that thin-sliced too, please?" Boom. These are the moments we analyze and agonize over-- or is that just me? And then--
"Hey, alright, man-- thin sliced!"
"Yep!"
"They slice it so thick!"
"And the heap of meat is gross!"
"Right??"
"I'm just glad I'm not the only one."

And there you have it. Nobody wants to be alone in this world. Everyone is just looking for someone else to order thin-sliced meat with-- or something like that. The rest of this conversation is not entirely accurate:

"Can we be Super Best Supermarket Friends?"
"But not in a gay way?"
"I don't even know how that'd be possible."
"Well, restroom hand jobs."
"Oh. Right. Then no."
"Cool, then I'm for it."
"I'm for it, too, Guy Whose Name I Don't Know and Don't Care To Know."

And from that moment, we became Super Best Supermarket Friends. What does this mean? It means that if we ever run into each other at the deli again, we'll remember and probably be like, "What's up, man?" or "Hell yeah, thin sliced turkey." And if we run into each other in OTHER parts of the store, we'll probably be like "..." and not talk, because "where do I know that dude, from?" And that is the most anyone could EVER expect out of a supermarket friendship-- which is why we are Super Best Supermarket Friends.


Costco-Sized Philanthropy:
I had the best idea ever yesterday. I inexplicably have some random found money coming to me (no, not from the King of Uzbekistan), which is not only proof that the world is illogical, but also that my entire, "Eh, things will work out for me somehow" world view is absolutely correct-- because there is no reason in hell why I should be the recipient of found money. For this reason, I decided that I need to use at least a small portion of the money to help someone. I also recently learned that I still have an active Costco membership, which led me to a brilliant conclusion.

I am going to take at least 100 dollars of my found money and buy bulk Costco food to give to homeless people. Not LOTS of homeless people, but several homeless people. I want each individual homeless person to receive an inordinate amount of ONE THING. "Hey, Homeless Guy, are you hungry? Because here are FORTY FIVE CROISSANTS!" This idea is brilliant because it involves so many aspects:

1) Philanthropy - Feeding the Homeless. Simple.

2) Comedy - Feeding the Homeless obscene amounts of food. The joke potential is huge, and the best part is, the joke isn't on the homeless person, it's simply in the act itself-- like manatees sex. "Hey homeless guy, would you like a dollar...AND FORTY-THOUSAND GOLDFISH CRACKERS!?"

3) Exercise - It would be naive to think we aren't going to have to run away from a lot of people-- homeless and otherwise.

4) Element of Danger - Partially covered by Exercise, this is not necessarily a GOOD philanthropical idea. While we're helping people, we also might be assaulted, knifed, shot, chased, and potentially impregnated. Zen question of the day: If you get pregnant from a homeless person, can you theoretically leave that child anywhere and say "It's living with its father?"

5) Documentary Potential - Absolutely ripe for youtube. A comedic adventure into the true soul of America's streets. Learn who these people are as we give them hilariously oversized, but nourishing goods.

6) Tax Write-Off - Maybe?

7) Feel Good About Myself - Most importantly, I imagine I'm going to feel great about myself after this-- and you should feel great about me too. After all, what's the point of doing something like this, if you aren't going to BLOG ABOUT IT AND TELL EVERYONE??

Here are some more of the things I'm excited to say:

"Hello, do you like ham and turkey, because HERE'S AN EIGHT FOOT PARTY SUB! And here's a twelve gallon tub of mustard because we didn't know if you wanted any on there or not!"

"You should eat peanut butter and jelly sandwiches, because WE BOUGHT YOU FORTY GALLONS OF PB&J AND TWELVE LOAVES OF WHOLE WHEAT BREAD!"

"Hey, symbiotic homeless couple-- why don't you have a romantic dinner? Here are some candles, garlic bread, and NINETY POUNDS OF FETTUCCINI ALFREDO!!!"

I can't wait, I can't wait, I can't wait.


Medium-Sliced,
Witz