Medium Well and Canned Tuna

Dear Diary …

Today … I wanna talk about food. Because really, it’s the one thing all humans have in common … we all eat food. Maybe we like different food, but we all eat it. Even your no fun fitness friends who hate delicious food … they’re at least still passionate about their twigs and protein powder … that’s their food.

And “passion” is a great word for this … because I love food. Especially great ingredients that are nurtured and treated beautifully in an effort to make them as fantastic as possible. Food deserves our respect and love, which is why we need to fight back against you people that overcook your red meat.

That animal died for you … and now you’re ruining it’s memory by turning them into a grey piece of meat leather.

Let me present you with a fact … the best way to eat red meat is rare or medium rare. End of discussion. There is no dispute here. Because if you disagree, you’re also the one with the broken taste buds. It’s medical. I pity you, but you still can’t argue with facts.

For optimum beefy deliciousness and flavor … any food expert will tell ya it’s medium rare. So you know what? Medium … I’ll let ya slide. You’re tryin’ your best.

But medium well and well done … you’re doin’ it wrong. Especially medium well. At least a “well done person” knows what they want … to destroy a piece of steak and cook it till it’s dry and terrible. Medium wellers … you people don’t know what you want. Because you are ALWAYS the one at the table mad about your food … pokin’ it with your fork … eww it’s too pink … or ahhhh it’s not pink enough. Ehhhhh!

This is because there’s no such thing as medium well. Either get it cooked right or get it burned to a crisp. You can’t order food as “kinda terrible” and then expect anything other than disappointment.

And here’s my additional advice … if you go to a restaurant and order medium rare and they say, “Well here at blah blah blah restaurant we cook it to at least medium because he wanna be safe.” LEAVE. Clearly they don’t care about flavor … and why would you wanna eat at a restaurant that hates flavor?

Tell me how to eat my food? I’m a grown ass man … If I wanna eat raw meat tin the parking lot like a bear … well then I can. I pay my taxes, that should be good for something, right?

OK … moving on Diary … while we’re talking about food … tuna fish has got to go. Now tuna … the actual fish … when in a nice big steak and cooked to perfection (rare BTW) … that’s awesome. But when it’s been boiled beyond belief and then scooped out of a can and slathered with huge hunks of mayonnaise. How is this not a crime against your food? (Oh … and just so you know … I really wanted to say “crimes against foodmanity” here, but I didn’t . So you’re welcome.)

Anyway … canned tuna … uhhh … why do we do this to ourselves? And I don’t know which came first … tuna fish or cat food, but the point is … they both smell and look the same. So do YOU think a sane person eats cat food sandwiches? Oh you know what …. that smells good. I’ll have what the cat’s having please.

That is a gross, crazy person.

And tuna melt … hot fish, melted cheese, and bubbling mayonnaise? Yeah there … you’ve just ruined everyone’s appetite … I hope you’re happy.

Till next time Diary … I say goodbye.

You Make Me Be Rude

Dear Diary …

I’m a nice guy. [Laughs] OK … no I’m not. But I DO try to treat other humans with respect. Really I think it’s one of the biggest problems we have in this world right now … everybody is just out for themselves, and have zero respect for anybody else.

So I try to be respectful and polite to people … you know … actually use words like “please” and “thank you” when I’m ordering at a drive thru instead of “Yeah I want two tacos. Don’t mess up my order!”

But sometimes … you MAKE me be rude to you. And I don’t wanna be rude. But you give me no choice.

So … my car came with free satellite radio for a couple months. I used it a little bit since it was there, but as you might be able to guess … I’m a little bit partial to “regular radio.” It’s free. And … it’s ME. So you know, “payin’ that whole paycheck” thing kinda makes me biased.

So when the free trial went away … I moved on with my life. Didn’t really miss it anyway. But that’s when the phone calls start.

“Hello sir … I’m calling to offer you a great deal on your satellite radio … only $50 for the next six months.”

No … thanks … but I’m good. Thank you for the offer, but I’m going to go ahead and decline.

“But sir this is our best deal and you will get to start using the service right away. Can I go ahead and sign you up?”

No. Again. Appreciate the offer. But I am not interested. Thank you.

“Are you sure? Because this is a great deal and you get to have all 100 of our channels to…”

No. NO! NOOOOOOOO!!!!!!!

See? You made me do this. I’m trying to be nice to you and say “no thank you,” but you will not stop talking to me and now you’ve forced me to be rude and yell at you!!! You’ve done this to yourself.

And I’m sure at the end of the day that person who works as the telemarketer is gonna go home and say, “People are so rude. That man yelled at me!” Well you made me do it!!!!

I’m trying to be nice here people … but you have forced me to be rude so you’ll actually pay attention.

OK … moving on Diary … I am done with “Bubble Teasers.”

That’s the name I’ve given them. Because if you have an iPhone, and you text somebody else with an iPhone, when they start typing a response you get these three little bubbles that pop up on your screen that basically say “Hey I’m typing something back to you and … bloop … here it is.”

The only problem is, the Bubble Teaser starts typing something. You see their bubbles. And then …. Nothin’

No response. And then the bubbles go away! And that’s all you get.

What the hell just happened? You were typing. You had a response. And then you just … disappear.

What changed? Where did you go? And where is my response?

“Oh sorry … I must’ve missed your text.”


By the way, “oh I totally missed your text” is currently the most garbage BS excuse being used by humans. It’s the “the dog ate my homework” of the 21st century. You’re a liar, and nobody believes you for a second. Just admit it … I saw your text and didn’t respond because I stink. End of story.

Till next time Diary … I say … goodbye.

Shopping With Children

Dear Diary …

About 8 years ago, I started creating humans. OK all I did was have kids, but man doesn’t it sound impressive when you say it that way. I AM THE CREATOR OF YOUUUUU!!!!!

Anyway … after raising kids for 8 years I’ve learned one thing above all else … I absolutely HATE taking them to the grocery store with me.

It is the … WORST!!!!

For me Diary … the grocery store is almost like a boxing match. It involves precision, strategy, and skill … all with the goal of winning the fight of “getting as much stuff for as little as possible.” And when my kids are there, that is completely ruined.

I’m already losing before I even walk through the door because I’m entering the battleground arena with … the dreaded “Dork Cart.”

That’s right Diary … the mark of shame of grocery shopping parents everywhere … that cart with the giant plastic car attached to the front of it. Broadcasting to the world as I walk through the doors … LOSER ALERT! LOSER ALERT! … Dorky parent pushing gigantic unwieldy cart of coming your way … LOSER!!!!

And God bless the grocery store for figuring out a way to make that cart twice as big as a normal cart, but also managing to hold about half the groceries because you’ve sacrificed so much space for your dork car attached to the front. Not to mention the fact that it has the maneuverability of an obese whale, to basically guarantee you’re going to be in the way of every other shopper in the store.

So now I’m already off my game. I know I look ridiculous, and I’m doing 300 pound bicep curls to just try to get this beached whale of a shopping cart into the next aisle.

Meanwhile, now I have an evil little devil barking orders to me in the front of the cart. Actually … I shouldn’t say “barking,” because my son basically talks in his normal voice, and assumes that I can hear him perfectly fine while I’m a mile and a half away at the front of this gigantic cart.

“Daddy …. [[[muffled and mumbled nothingness]]]”


[[[muffled and mumbled nothingness]]]

Yeah. Great. Whatever.

And let’s not forget, he’s now in a perfect position to just start grabbing stuff off the shelves that he wants. Fruit snacks … oreos … applesauce … whatever it is that he sees … he can just grab and stuff in that little car compartment without me even noticing.

So now I’m just trying to get the hell out of there … so all manner of precision and care is thrown out the window … while all the while the little demon is saying “Daddy can I have this? Daddy I want that! Daddy can we get cookies? Daddy that box has Batman on it!”

And of course, because I’m p-whipped … you know “Parent Whipped” … I’m buying him stuff just to shut him up so I can just get what I need and get home.

So not only does a trip to the grocery store not save me any money … it actually costs me money, because I end up buying a pile a crap I had no intention of bringing home with me.

And Diary … I would continue to tell you more about how much I hate grocery shopping with the kids, but my daughter has just informed me that I’m “taking too long on the computer and she wants a turn,” so now she’s totally ruined my focus and I can’t remember what I was going to say anymore. So I’m outta here!

Till next time Diary … I say goodbye.