People are Starving in Africa

Ug. I ate too much lunch.

One of the reasons I love living in New York is because all of the chain restaurants are now required to post the calorie counts of their foods. It makes ordering very simple. Sure, I could have that sandwich for 750 calories, but no one is going to feel good about themselves at the end of the day if that happens. After all, I do need to save room for my 1,324 calorie dinner.

But the problem is, the calorie counts have spoiled me. I've been eating reasonably-sized meals for about a month now and my stomach has thanked me by not making embarrassing noises from my cubicle.

But my streak has ended.

I went for lunch today at the giant chopped salad place, where I had been ordering a more reasonably sized salad wrap instead of the 2 pound salad. When I was ordering, I forgot to order myself a wrap and got stuck with a salad the size of my head. Normally, this would be a good thing, but after so many weeks of modest portions, my stomach is a big ole bloated mess. Ouch.

So now I am faced with the awkward task of attempting to mask my belching and strange stomach noises with extra-loud typing and throat-clearing. I am not fooling anyone.

Why do we eat ourselves into oblivion? It never feels very good when you're done. (says the person who has spent the last 800 Sundays immobile and hungover)

At times like these, I always think of the competitive eater. I know those crazy Japanese folks spend their lives traveling from contest to contest to make ends meet, but what about the everyday schlub who enters the Nathan's contest every July 4th? He is not an "athlete." He does not train. He must be feeling pain when he downs dog 22. It's just not natural.

I guess the difference between them and me is that it is socially acceptable to hurl after eating 40 hot dogs in 10 minutes. Puking up a salad is a little too Tracy Gold for my taste.

And speaking of... does anyone remember that made-for-TV movie she was in where she played a girl with an eating disorder? I think that was all a little messed up. Hey, former teen star who suffered through the death of Matthew Perry and getting constantly picked on by Boner! Why don't you play a character that hits a little too close to home? You won't even get an Emmy!

Kirk Cameron's all crazy too with his Jesus-freakery. And that little blonde one? Has that kid overdosed yet or is he slated for Dancing With The Stars 7?

It's a sad day when your show's jump-the-shark character becomes your series' most famous star. You all know who I mean. That troubled youth from Mike's class, who coincidentally needed a place to live, Leonardo DiCaprio.

But I digress...

A friend of mine IM'd me once to complain about eating too much and having gas. She works in an office with one private bathroom that leaves telling signs of the previous inhabitants, if you catch my drift. I told her to go fart outside. I may take my own advice.

For the rest of the day, I will be in Bryant Park, loudly flipping the pages of a magazine and clearing my throat.

Red Herring

I just returned from a lovely week in Sweden, and despite my overdose of blondes in tight pants, I had a very nice time.

I was out for a training meeting with colleagues from around the globe, and what surprised me most was how ignorant I am about most of the world.

My meeting was populated by some Italians, Spaniards, Chinese, Taiwanese, an Indonesian, a Brit, and of course, loads of Swedes. Everyone spoke English, which means for everyone except the Brit, they are all bi-lingual.

I am constantly fascinated and jealous of the bi-lingual and feel that they don't get enough credit. Be honest, when you get in a cab or when your cleaning lady comes, don't you always feel a bit superior? But how many languages do you speak, buddy? Could you conduct your livelihood in Swahili? I think not.

I decided that I will take some Spanish lessons this summer to dust off the old high school educación. Plus it will make CSI: Miami villains much more relatable.

Another item of note was that most of the conversation covered US politics. I must have said the following phrase 100 times, "I think it's so interesting that you follow US politics. Most people in America don't even pay attention."

I know nothing about the current political race in China, or if they are allowed to vote there (are they still Communists?) Yet my Chinese friend knew everything about the Democratic primaries. He likes Obama by the way.

I did however receive props for my big-city Bush bashing. I think my colleague from Michigan was in trouble on that one. I'm pretty sure Bush drives American.

I was so overwhelmed by this clash of cultures that I did not embrace my usual zealous quest to consume all local foods. In every other country I have been to (or state for that matter), I make it a point to try the native cuisine. This is why I am one of two people I know who has eaten kudu. Yes, that's an animal.

At meal time, I stuck to fish. And not terribly traditional fish either.

The Swedes love their fish, probably because Stockholm is made up of 14 islands. I was also told a story about salmon being the food of the poor. The salmon people must have ingenious marketing folks these days. But the most traditional fish is herring. Pickled herring. Chased with a shot of whisky. I am not kidding.

It could have been my self-consciousness at my lack of globality, or the fact that I wasn't into vomiting in front of co-workers, but I skipped the herring and shots.

All in all, I was a pretty lame American. But I did drink the local beer.