Tales to Astonish!

I know virtually nothing about food, other than that I keep it in my kitchen next to the chemicals I scrub my bathtub with. The (former) Lady Retropolitan was almost a gourmet chef, regularly concocting delicacies the likes of which I could not begin to understand. She would walk into the kitchen, and then five minutes later exit with a platter full of exotic edibles and extraordinary treats. On the contrary, I would walk into the kitchen, and then five minutes later exit.

Basically, I’m a guy known for either not eating or eating too much Ramen.

That’s why it was a shock to me two months back when my doctor told me that because of my high cholesterol, my family history of heart disease, and the fact that my heart actually hasn’t been beating in several years, I would have to do the unthinkable: change my diet. Not only that, but… no more red meat. At all. No more delicious steaks, no more burgers, no more teacher’s dirty looks. IF I absolutely HAD to have meat, I was allowed “some chicken or white meat, on occasion.” He never actually got around to telling me what I was allowed to eat, but after a few days of desperation I found this whole new section in the supermarket that I’d never even seen before: the produce aisle.

Coming from a guy whose previous diet consisted mostly of steaks and nachos, eating vegetables really isn’t so bad. Initially I was disappointed that no one had grown a meat-flavored plant, but I got used to it after a few weeks, replacing all the bad-for-me stuff with things like salads, salads, and salads. I eat a lot of salad. More than just vegetables and fruits, I made larger shifts: everything else I buy is fat-free, low-fat, no-fat, cholesterol free, pretty much down the line. All of my salad dressings are fat and cholesterol free, sorbet instead of ice cream, fat-free yogurt instead of… well, I didn’t eat pudding anyway. I even use fat- and cholesterol-free cheese to put on my cholesterol-free Boca and veggie burgers. Or, as I like to refer to them, “soy protein patties.” I like to refer to a lot of things as “soy protein patties,” but this is the only time it’s really appropriate.

And you know what? I’m completely happy with this diet. In fact, I even get kind of turned off by stuff like real cheese now, because it just tastes so… well, gooey and fatty. The fat-free cheese tastes like milder regular cheese, and now the real cheese tastes like I’m eating pure lard. I don’t want to go back. Also, I’m now getting enough fiber to to power a rocketship.

There’s no point here other than saying man, aren’t tomatoes GREAT?

I think they are. Totally.

EDIT: Of course this post reminds me of this thrilling tale from Dinosaur Comics. Especially the end.

I actually threw away a nearly full cup of my precious, sweet, dear coffee today.  My close, life-long friend, my loving java…

…I think our relationship is over.

You see, I met someone else, a little white pill that — and it pains me to say this — is worth about six cups of you.  I visit with the pill in the morning, and am immediately whisked back to the very first mug of you I ever had.  Six or seven times, with the intoxicating effects overlapping.

I will always have a place in my heart for you, dear coffee, but if we don’t end this now I fear that my heart will break.

Literally.

Into a thousand convulsing, jittery, agitated pieces.

Strolling pleasantly throught the supermarket aisles this fine Saturday afternoon, I decided for roughly the thousandth time to to become healthier.  ‘I drink too much coffee,’ I thought to myself, thinking not of the perky aspects of the drink, but the calories and acids.  ‘I bet tea is better for me, what with the antioxidants and all — plus I take it with no milk, cream or sugar, so that’s got to be healthier for me,’ I thought as I knocked an old woman with a pushcart into the day-old onion rolls.  ‘She’s too goddamned slow and creeping through the goddamned middle of the small aisle,’ I mumbled to myself as I cackled with evil glee, tearing the hard-rubber wheels from the cart with my teeth.

Moments later, as I approached the tea section of Key Foods, I made an alarming discovery: people that drink tea apparently have something against caffeine.  Pretty much every box of tea the store offered was decaf — and they all had large, colorful labels saying, nay, PROCLAIMING their decaffeinatedness to the shoppers of the world!

What the hell?

I want caffeine. I want as much caffeine as I can get my hands on.  I want double-caffeinated tea, supercharged with antioxidants and Englishness.  I don’t want a pleasant morning drink, I want Jolt Cola to be seeped out of a bag in my mug.  I want X-TREEM! tea, the kind of tea that superheroes drink when they’re skydiving and skiing off of cliffs.

But, alas, all they had was one box of green tea that had a very apologetic “Contains Caffeine!  Sorry!  We tried to get rid of it!” label in the lower left corner.  I bought that one, and then punched all the other boxes as a lesson.

I drink a lot of coffee.

Unfortunately, I work in a place that doesn’t provide me with free coffee, so all that caffeine I suck down costs me a lot of money — something to the tune of sixty bucks a month. I never really thought too much about it — I figured that it’s not exactly a negotiable expense, considering that I DESPERATELY NEED all the caffeine I can legally get short of sponsoring Colombian children to grow personal fields of beans for me. Three or four bucks a day isn’t too bad, since I went for the cheap junk anyway. If I’d been going to Starbuck’s for my coffee needs, I’d be in massive drug debt like Robert Downey Jr. in Less Than Zero, and I’d probably have a caffeine-induced heart attack and die with my head on Andrew McCarthy’s shoulder.

When I say I’m in for the cheap junk, I mean it — at home, I drink instant coffee rather than having a percolator of any kind. My parents drank instant, I learned to drink it, and nowadays I actually prefer it to most brewed coffee; some of the flavored kinds they’re selling these days taste just pretty much indistinguishable from brewed beans. The Vanilla Taster’s Choice in particular is great. Plus: I can make it in an instant, and get right back to my intense internet search for a complete set of Battle Beasts.

I’m approaching my point now: at work, coffee is three or four bucks a day. Hot water with a splash of Half-and-Half is free. A jar of instant coffee that makes me about 120 cups is eight dollars. Doing some quick math in my head, that offers me a discount per cup of about 96%. That’s about $52 less spent on coffee per month — that’s almost my whole Time Warner bill! This revelation is why I now carry around a jar of Taster’s Choice with me wherever I go, like it’s one of the Beastmaster’s ferrets and its special mission is to perk me up.

My instant coffee is about four times better-tasting than the crap I usually buy, and to top it off it doesn’t give me that “scalding acid in my esophagus” feeling that the dark roast from the cafeteria does. I suspect that “dark” isn’t referring so much to the strength or color of the roast, but rather acts as a loose synonym for “demonic evil.” That would explain a lot of things about the place I work.

I’m also a bit proud of my money-saving scheme, since this is the first time I’ve been able to cut my expenses in a meaningful way since the coma. I’m only a tad worried that I’ll eventually grow up to be one of those people that you see getting kicked out of restaurants for bringing their own food, who are inevitably either homeless, or very, very rich.

I’m one of those people that you could throw onto a deserted island by himself, and wouldn’t get bored. I have an almost uncanny ability to keep myself occupied in the stupidest ways imaginable. Tonight, I found myself without videos at hand, and I was forced to begin a crusade that I’d been planning for quite a long time: fan mail letters for products that I really like.

I’m not really looking for coupons or freebie products or anything (and I suppose I’d stand a better chance of grabbing freebies if I wrote letters of complaint); rather, I wanted to send some praise for some products that I think are deserving of it.

My first letter tonight went out to Wise Snacks, makers of my favorite potato chips:

To: snackmaster@wisesnacks.com
From: The Retropolitan
Subject: New York Deli Chips

Dear Snackmaster:

Like most other people on Earth, I get bored sometimes. During one of these extended periods of lethargy and apathy, an idea occurred to me; something that might stand a chance of bringing me out of my stupor in a positive and constructive manner:

I was going to write thank-you letters to the makers of all the products that I really enjoyed.

New York Deli Potato Chips are my favorite chips, bar none. I’ve been a huge fan of them since I was a little kid, and I even remember those old commercials that used to pop up on the USA network — including the somehow catchy “New York Deelll-EEE!” jingle. (If I remember correctly, the ad took place with a woman grabbing a bag of chips from a New York deli in what I imagine was an unusually spunky manner for someone that’s just kinda hungry. Maybe she was really, really hungry.) Anyway, that commercial has burned into my brain, and I’m pretty much helpless to buy any other brand of chips due to nostalgia — which I might resent if the chips themselves weren’t really tasty in their own right.

Luckily for your brand, New York Deli chips are fantastic. I missed the barbecue version, but I’m still a big fan of the jalepeno — but the original chips are the best. I’m honestly not that big of a potato chip fan, but I always grab New York Deli when I see it on the shelves, which has become startlingly rare! I figured that once I moved to New York City I’d be able to grab them at any corner store, but it turns out that if stores in my neighborhood carry them at all, it’s the jalapeno, and even then it’s not that often. I once canvassed about sixteen blocks of Brooklyn looking for anything larger than a snack-sized bag.

Happily, I found that a grocery store in Queens has finally, FINALLY begun stocking the full-size bags of the original chips, which means that I’ve got a supply again.

At any rate, I’ve been able to stave off both starvation and boredom due to the fantastic product that your company sells. For what it’s worth from a loyal customer, thanks.

The Retropolitan

I feel better already!