Your health or mine?

Sometimes health nuts drive me crazy. I was behind one such meathead last night at a popular burrito place which name rhymes with NickNolté. This muscle-bound annoyance was simply over the top. He was so ultra specific with the making of his tortillaless burrito. At one point I really thought he was going to jump the counter and count the number of black beans the were issuing him. He needed a very certain number of calories in his meal. He wasn't going to settle for less and would have administered much roid rage if they dared to go over his calorie limit. He even made the burrito builders move a sliver of cheese that was on the counter, as to ensure that it would not end up in his dinner. Everything he said was loud and very demanding. He wanted the burrito rules rewritten just for him. A red basket for his entree? Hardly. His pile o' protein must be laid out on paper on top of one of their circular silver trays. Why? Because he needed to eat his calories in a certain order. I'm not even lying, that's what he said.

Here's the thing. If you want to take care of your body, I'm all for it. I think it's smart, I think it's the right thing to do, and the way I read it, it's biblical. But taking care of yourself is a very personal thing. I can't take care of your body and quite frankly I don't want to. You taking care of you doesn't really involve me. So here are a few ground rules for you people that are fanatical about your health:

No one cares but you.

I don't need to know how many calories you eat per day.

You don't need to report how many miles you run each day.

Yes, I am going to eat that donut.

I don't need to know how much you bench.

You are able to work out for hours each day because you don't have a life.

You don't have a life because you work out for hours each day.

Obsession is obsession. Even if it's obsession over something healthy.

I'll take care of me, you take care of you.

See, there is a line a lot of us cross. We try to do what's right. We try to do what's good. But occasionally we cross that line where it starts being a lot less about us doing the right thing simply to do the right thing. It becomes us doing the right thing to show off or impress. Why would anyone need to tell me how many miles they ran before coming to work? It's simply to try and impress me. If it wasn't about that, you would simply go run your five miles and not tell a soul. Do I tell you that I pooped before coming to work? Of course not. Because it's not necessary. Me pooping isn't about you. It doesn't affect you. Is it because you need approval? Or you simply need to boast?

Listen, I don't high five people because they get a good night's sleep. I don't pat people on the back because they tell the truth. So I'm also not going to make a fuss over you because you eat well or because you run or workout. You're doing what you're supposed to do. Big whoop. I wish we all would stop celebrating mediocrity.

Just do what you're supposed to do. Be humble. Don't make a big deal about it. Don't be proud. Don't seek approval for normalcy. Just do what you're supposed to do.

Mr. Smellvedere

I think I read once that the human nose can only detect about 10,000 different smells. Yes, it seems like it would be more than that. There are definitely more than 10,000 things in the world that put off smell. I don't get it. What happens when there's something that just doesn't smell like one of the other 10k? The nose just lumps it in under something else?

Nose: Hey this whoosie-whatsie doesn't smell like anything I've smelt before. Ah well, let's just make it strawberry.

I think this is the reason we uncap various jars and tubs at the Bath & Body Works and immediately say, "You know, that smells like ________." The 'smells like' part helps our nose to lump.

I was trying to sit here and come up with things that smell like other things. Unfortunately, I cannot formulate a huge list at this point. But I do know that:

We have some US Mail packing tape at work that smells exactly like Cocoa Puffs.

Walking through a field of crab apples smells like belly button.

Lots of things smell similar to White-Out and dry erase markers.

Spit that lingers in the air after a sneeze smells like belly button.

Nothing in the world smells like decay. Roadkill is very distinct.

Dirty dish rags and sweaty socks have the same smell.

I had a teacher in eighth grade who's breath really smelled like dog poop.

After a cat licks your hand, your hand will smell like belly button.

People think marijuana smells reminiscent of green apple (I never have),

An approaching rain has a very distinct smell.

Sometimes I can't even pinpoint what I'm smelling, but I smell belly button.

I'm in a porno!

Okay, so I'm not really in a porno. Not that I couldn't be. I'm telling you, I could be if I wanted to. I think I have all the makings of a good porn actor. I just choose not to be in porn, okay? Why are you hounding me about this?

So, I may not be in a porno but I am in a little movie coming out in the summer of 2010. The title sounds like it could very well be pornography but I assure you it's not. Yep, I spent my summer vacation this year pretending to be a closeted, Caucasian, homosexual, funeral director with a mysteriously platonic African American girlfriend of ten years. I know what you're thinking - I thought you said you were ACTING, Chris???

Making this movie was such an incredible experience. I'm very proud of the work everyone put into it. I'm proud of most of what I did. I'm ultra critical of myself, but even I would give myself an internal high-five after some of the scenes were wrapped. Movie making is an absolute blast. Movie making with your friends? It's the cherry on top.

So, without further ado, I present the first official trailer for: Hitting The Nuts

Stop and listen

Certain songs camp out in my head. They take up shop and reside in my skull for long periods of time. Yes, Miley's Party in the USA is one such song. You can act like a big tough guy all you want, but when that darn Miley starts singing about the DJ playing her favorite song and her hands going up - you're gonna be hooked just like me!

Recently, David Crowder's How He Loves was another song that I couldn't get out of my head. That one actually invaded my whole soul. I would not only hear it, I would feel it. Well, the torch has been passed to Peace Be Still by Rush of Fools. This song changes me. It changes me every time I hear it. It's so good. Just listen.

Bumper Snickers

First, let me say that I am not a fan of the kid's name stickers on the back of cars. Nothing like putting up a billboard to attract pedophiles, ya know? "Hey creepy guy with the mustache in the van next to us, let me introduce you to my twelve year old daughter, Makayla. You can tell by the megaphone that she's a cheerleader. Just thought you would appreciate that visual, you weirdo." It doesn't help that I actually know a family that had their daughter stalked by one of those guys just because of the name on their SUV. I'm a little jaded.

Anyway, I was behind a minivan this morning. As I approached, I saw some of the ever popular name stickers on the back. I read the names when I got within range. But this van totally threw me for a loop. They weren't kid stickers at all. The one on the left read: We (heart symbol) Vampires. The one on the right simply said: Team Edward.

Are you kidding me? It's one thing to display your own kid's name, but to display Edward Cullen's name on your car? That's truly strange. He's not a relative. He isn't running for office. He isn't even real. He's a freakin' make believe vampire.

After I got done being appalled, I started thinking about the whole vampire bumper sticker genre. Maybe I was missing a real opportunity here. If this person in the van was crazy enough to buy two such stickers, maybe other people would too. That's it! I'll start mass producing vampire stickers and make a fortune off of the made up. It's brilliant. Now, what type of stickers would I design?...

I Brake For O Neg

*Calvin peeing on clove of garlic*

My Vampire Would Bite Your Honor Student

*DAYLIGHT with a slash through it*

Vampires Are A Pain In The Neck

Transylvania University Alumni - School of Hematology

Vampires Do It In The Dark

Bit R Dun

Honk If You Love Hemoglobin

Nocturnally Yours

I Suck

Gettin' funky for The Father

I missed church on Sunday. I really hate when I miss church. There was a long period of time in my life when I was happy to miss church. I would find excuses just to stay home. Now when I miss I feel an emptiness. Sure I'll jump online and watch the service (along with a few others that I keep up on) but it's just not the same as being there.

I love my church and and I have no reason to go "church shopping" at this point in my life, but if I did, THIS would be the place I would want to end up. If this is how they take the offering all the time, this could quite possibly be the best church in history!



And this just never, ever gets old.

Booth Fairy

First off let me just say that if I opened up a restaurant, instead of booth numbers I would totally give the booths cool names. "Right this way, you'll be seated in the Telephone booth." Or something like, "You two look like a nice, young couple. How about the Kissing booth?"

Anyway, I'm like a 70 year old man. I love my breakfast. And I love to visit the local breakfast joints and sit there by myself and complain about kids these days. I call the waitress Toots and Sugar and make sure my coffee's always empty so she has to keep stopping by.

This morning I treated myself to breakfast at a pancake place I love. As I sat and hated on the teenagers because they don't know how good they have it, I started to notice that people talk WAY to loud. Way. If you're in a booth, the acoustics are pretty good. You can pretty much whisper and the person across from you with hear it. Enya could do a concert in my booth and I could probably understand every word. That's how good you can hear. So why must some people talk so loud?

I have a theory. You should only talk loud enough for your own booth to hear. If you get excited or freak out about something, you still should only be able to be heard by your own booth and MAYBE the one next to you. You should never be heard by two booths away. Ever.

There was a guy at the pancake place this morning who was a Four Boother. Really? No one ever needs to be heard from four booths away. A Three Boother is ridiculous, but a Four Boother? He really needs to stick to loud voice jobs and stay out of breakfast places. Maybe a professional protester, or the All Aboard guy from railroads.

So, after hearing his whole hypothesis about Dick Cheney and Haliburton and government conspiracy, I walked by to go pay my bill and I shot him a dirty look. My look said, "Pipe down, Four Boother."

If I owned a restaurant, and that guy walked in, I would immediately seat him in the John Wilkes booth.