Food Mountain

I guess I am not going to get back to talking about my trip to Tucson. Maybe because some dark and terrible thing happened there that I cannot speak of. Or more likely because I just don’t feel like it for some reason. Feel free to make up whatever stories about my trip that you want. And if you wanted to send those stories to me, that would be pretty cool too.


I decided that I wanted to tell you about the first time I drank in public. It was at a work function, which is always the best time to test your alcohol tolerance. And I had not really done too much drinking before then.


We were staying overnight at a hotel and the teambuilding of the night before was like 40 fucking rounds of putt putt golf. I am not even exaggerating on that one. Plus it was hot as balls outside so I was already miserable. And I hate golf.


One of my co-workers, R, is a bit of a party guy and he disappeared before the event even started and came back with a hurricane. When he left and came back with his second one I decided that I wanted to taste it. To my surprise it did not taste like hairspray (margaritas), paint thinner (any hard liquor), or bitter wheat vomit (beer) like all the other alcohol I had tried.

I even got a fancy glass to take home that I still drink out of


So I ordered a hurricane for myself. I drank about half of it before I felt much of anything. By then I was two holes in the putt putt game and was teamed with 3 people I did not know at all. They were boring the hell out of me and talking about work bull shit.


When that hurricane hit me, I realized I was fucking starving. I hadn’t eaten anything in 7 hours, and then it had only been a salad. I stopped one of the people that worked there and asked “Isn’t there food somewhere around here?”


She pointed vaguely to the other side of the mini golf course. “You have to play through to get to the food.”


I set down my putter and golf ball and replied “No thanks, I’m hungry now. And as an adult, I’ll eat when I want to.” And I set off across the putting course. I have zero patience for being told what to do, and I was really very hungry.


I managed to walk through about 6 or 7 other groups that actually cared about finishing the game. But I didn’t care. All I wanted was food. I was on a quest. A quest to food mountain.


After about 10 minutes I found some weird fish taco station. And I was pissed! I hate fish. I wanted real food. I asked the woman  that was manning the station, “Is this the only food?”


She laughed and pointed again, even farther away from where we were. “I think there are burgers over there somewhere.”


By this point, the alcohol was hitting me HARD. I felt really silly and relaxed and warm. I ran into my boss. He tried to talk to me but I stopped him. “Sorry, I’m busy trying to find some mythical burgers.” I didn’t even wait for his response. I was on a mission.


But the burgers were nowhere to be found. None of the other teams had seen them. Nobody seemed to know anything about them. I was wandering around this huge putting course, lost and semi drunk asking people about hamburgers. Luckily, everyone knows I am weird as fuck and I don’t think anyone really thought much of my behavior.


And then, I saw them…. It was food mountain! The legends were true!


They were up on a platform under a heating lamp. The red light was like a beacon in the night, drawing me in like a moth. I raced up the steps with excitement. I could already taste that sweet burger meat.


I was alone. Alone with a mountain of mini burgers and a pan of french fries. This was my own little private heaven. I made two triple burgers and filled a tray with fries.




And then, for some reason, I decided I needed to find R. So I wandered back through everyone trying to play through the course and fended off their vulturous attempts to eat my food. I was doing fake karate chops and telling people how to get to food mountain themselves.


It didn’t take long to find R. I’m not sure how many drinks he’d had by that point, but he was very loud.  I finished my food and then had a brilliant idea.


The week before R and I had gotten into an argument about my flexibility. He didn’t believe I could touch my toes to my forehead and it was not something I was willing to do at work. But at a work function, after half a hurricane, I was more than willing.


So I sat down and said, “Give me a minute, I don’t normally do this with pants on.” And proceeded to show him that I could totally touch my toes to my forehead. (I do yoga and it really isn’t that hard). R laughed and took a pic and admitted that I was right and he was wrong.



And then I went to find my original group. But I was so turned around I decided to go back to the beginning and follow the course through till I found them.


Unfortunately, there was an ice cream station at the beginning of the course. And there was no way I wasn’t stopping at that thing. I decided it was too hot for ice cream so instead I talked the guy manning the station into giving me a mouthful of hot fudge and then an ice cream bowl full of mini m&m’s and sprinkles. It was amazingly delicious.

Candy mountain!



I never found my group and so just waited there at the end of the course, eating candy and sprinkles until my co-workers made it through. By the time they arrived R had shown everyone the picture of my flexibility stunt.

But they were mostly too drunk to remember. A bunch of other fun things happened that night but I feel like this story is long enough.

Getting High

As a young child I was always trying to find some way to get high. I think we all did the things I am going to describe. As an adult I have alcohol and prescription drugs. But as a child, you have to use more natural methods. And I tried a lot of them.


I would stand with my arms spread wide and look up at the sky and spin around and around until I couldn’t spin anymore. Then I would try to walk around, stumbling and laughing.

Like this but less romantic-y.


When my older sister, W, would bring her boyfriends home, they would pick us up by our hands and swing us around in circles. In retrospect, my parents probably should not have let them do that. Especially to my sister, J, who had a habit of getting her shoulder dislocated. It just sounds dangerous. But we were surprisingly never injured.

How is this safe?


As an adult, before I started drinking, I had read this article and decided to try a few of the methods described.


I had already experienced the ‘high’ of not eating for several days back in high school. I used to do that all the time. It definitely works. But I wouldn’t recommend it as it is very unhealthy and potentially dangerous.


I also had experienced the high of sleep deprivation many times in my life. I have always had chronic insomnia from as far back as I can remember. I have gone days without sleep. At some point, once I pushed past that robotic zombie stage, I did start to hallucinate. Like serious, mostly scary, hallucinations. Again, it is not something I would recommend. Especially if you drive.



I have tried taking baths with Clary Sage essential oils. It did put me in a heightened state of relaxation beyond that of just taking a warm bath. I still do it from time to time because I like the calming quality of it.


I also do meditate. It helps me to relax at night before sleeping. Sometimes I have meditated for hours at a time. I have had several very unusual meditative experiences that I will describe sometime. When I can figure out how to talk about them without sounding like a total kook.


But none of those highs compare to this thing I used to do with my friend M, and sister J when we were kids.


We would stand with our backs against a wall and bend forward, as though we were trying to touch our toes (something I have only been able to do in the last few years thanks to yoga).We would breathe rapidly and deeply for a few minutes.

Exactly like this but breathing really heavily.


Then we would stand up suddenly and hold our breaths. This never worked for me for weeks and weeks of trying. And then one day M put her hands around my throat. I don’t know if it was the pressure or the restriction of air. But it worked.


It worked so well that sometimes I would lose consciousness. I really enjoyed doing it until one time I lost consciousness, fell down, and hit my head on the door handle and almost gave myself a concussion.


I refused to try it again after that.


Did anyone else do these things? Are there things you did to get high that I am not mentioning?



It’s no secret that I should probably be dead. Evolutionarily, there is no real reason for my existence. In fact, if I had lived just 50 years ago, I probably would already be dead. I am merely alive through the sheer chance of science and modern medicine.


And that makes me undead.

I hope we have the technology to reanimate skeletons when I die. I am so in. After science has it’s way with me.


I am living a sort of second life. It is the life beyond what I should have lived. In all honesty, I am probably living a fourth or fifth life at this point.


Let’s examine the evidence:


I’ve had between 5 and 10 minor to major strokes. I’ve had 5 heart surgeries. Any one of those things should have killed me. Those things have killed many other people before me and will kill many more after me.

My first intentional pun!

I’ve fallen down a flight of stairs. On two separate occasions. Both of which could have resulted in a broken neck. I can only attest my surviving those incidents to my yoga and cat-like reflexes.

My reflexes are as good as this kitten’s.

I swallowed at least one, fairly large piece of glass. Which I suspect is still floating around waiting to lodge itself in some crucial organ. Like my lungs.

microscope lens

Excuse me, I just need to go swallow this real quick.

Not to mention all the things in my environment that are trying to kill me. For example, one time I brushed up against a plant at work. It had been recently sprayed with pesticides. I found out the hard way that I am allergic to them.


I broke out in hive all across my neck and throat. And then my face. And then my arms and hands. And then my throat started swelling so bad that I couldn’t turn my head. Or pesky other things, like breathe.



Know what’s sexy? Not hives.

I still don’t know what the pesticide was. Every once in a while, I will re-discover it and break out in hives again. It’s sort of like being a detective adventurer, except I could die.


Then there was the time my air conditioner broke in the middle of summer. I came home to a house that was almost 120 degrees. The AC men came out and fixed it, but after they left, I kept noticing a weird smell.


I let it go for a few days, but I felt like it was getting stronger, so I called them back. They said it was leaking freon, which they claim didn’t smell like anything. (Then what was I smelling, huh?!) They couldn’t fix it that day, but assured me it was no big deal. It was only harmful to people with heart problems.


It wound up taking them over a week to fix even after I told them I did have heart problems.


So, I am sick, and clumsy, and unlucky, and allergic to life. And I haven’t even mentioned my emotional problems. And I can’t even reproduce, not that I wanted to.  So why am I even alive, from an evolutionary standpoint? I really don’t know. Hopefully I am funny enough to be using up all the resources I am.


What about you guys? Are any of you undead too?


My parents were pretty strict when I was growing up. I am also the type of person that hates being in trouble. I hate making mistakes. I sometimes cry at even the most gentle of scoldings (like an idiot).

Because of all that, I had never thrown a temper tantrum. My parents didn’t entertain that sort of misbehavior and I would never have even considered doing something like that. Until I became an adult.

One day I was out at the grocery store and I saw a small child in full meltdown mode. He was lying on the filthy floor. His hands were balled into fists. He was screaming and crying because his mother wouldn’t buy him chocolate.

temper tantrum


I gave her a look as I passed by. It’s a kind of arched eyebrow, judgmental look that I have perfected over many years. But in my head, I was thinking, ‘Man, that looks cathartic. I wonder if it really makes you feel better. I must experiment. For science.’

I didn’t have anything on hand at that moment to have a tantrum over. But it didn’t take me too long.

The first time I did it; I was home alone. I was upset over something not going my way with a boy. So, I gave myself three minutes. I flopped onto my bed and said every pathetic, pitiful thing I had been walking around thinking to myself out loud.

After three minutes, I got up, washed my face, and realized, I was over that boy and that situation. It had helped. But maybe it was just a fluke. I’d need to run more tests.

I already had a control group. All the times in my life that I attempted to deal with my problems like a rational adult. And I knew how shitty that felt. Being an adult sucks a lot of the time.

I have never done this in public. I have never done it while crying. I have never done it in anger. And I have never done it in front of someone else.

It obviously wouldn’t work for any kind of genuine problem. But it does work surprisingly well for minor issues. It helps me to get out all of my patheticness over a situation in three minutes. Generally, when I am done, I have completely gotten it all out of my system and am ready to move on.

It’s my secret weapon.

Yoga, meditation, exercise, talking to my therapist, journaling, breathing exercises, visualization. All of those things are really helpful.They are all great ways to cope with stress and disappointment. I couldn’t imagine my life without them.

But sometimes, my problems require a good, old fashioned temper tantrum. And sometimes, I let myself have one.

Has anyone else tried this as an adult? I am curious to know about someone else’s experience with this.