The Smack Down

I’ll start by saying if my tone is abrupt or offensive, good. It’s supposed to be. I’ve been sick for seventy-five months (ok, more like 2), and I don’t go to bed before midnight. Ever. I get up at 6:00 a.m. every morning, and I read stuff for graduate school every chance I get. Today I read at a traffic light…it was green.

So, naturally, it is safe to say that my patience is a little silver thread—a glimmer so small it nearly doesn’t exist. In the midst of all the chaos, this blog is actually the one release I enjoy.Sometimes I laugh just imagining what I could write…if only time were my pal.

Well, today I decided to call a sub and, in the spirit of George Foreman, give my schedule the smack down. I woke up early this morning sick, so I decided that stress was not doing anything for healing. I entered the sub into the online system and fell back into slumber for about thirty more minutes. I awoke thinking of my blog. I (quite naturally) was excited for breakfast, but not just because I got to eat (though that is always exciting). It is day 2; meal 2 of my Forty with Foreman. I pull out the Foreman, sleepily plug it in, and reach into the fridge for my pre-cooked turkey sausage patties.

The Foreman heats them in about two minutes, and I cackle to think that yesterday I had the audacity to compare my blog to Julie and Julia.

“Hmmm…speaking of Julie and Julia, perhaps I should go rest and watch that for a bit to gain a little extra rest before moving into my homework for class,” I think silently as I spoon out my sugar-free Bread and Butter pickles (Yep, so not Julie or Julia). I curl back into bed and begin watching. I soon realized why I NEVER, EVER watch this movie. In fact, I remembered why I downright hated this movie: the smacking is Out. Of. Control. Nora Ephron, if you ever decide to turn my life into a movie (it would promise to be fantastic material), people can’t make food noises. I mean, C’mon, NORA, did you really think people would find this entertaining?

CLICK HERE FOR LINK TO THE SCENE DEPICTED BELOW

The link doesn't show how revolting the male actor's chewing really is, but I wouldn't advise putting yourself through it anyhow. I was so disgusted after this scene that I decided to go ahead and do my homework, quickly snapping of the DVD player. If only life were always that easy.

I get to class tonight, cranky because of my limited sleep and wimpy health, and I find my seat. I get a 100% on the reading quiz, then listen as my peers and professor engage in a quite meaningful discussion of the previous week’s reading assignments. All goes well, until after the break.

After the break, two classmates—the two who sit flanking my sides—pull out Cheez-Its (a 7 on the annoyance scale) and Almonds (Normally, an 8…but tonight, because of the manner of mastication, an 11). I sit glaring at the almonds, then back at the smacker on my left. I would look to my right at Cheez-Its Queen, but she’s at least trying to be quiet. I decide to zero in on the main perpetrator. With the vigilance I used to train my dog to lie down, I glared at the almonds then back at the girl—while she continued popping these little distractoids, oblivious to my death glare.

I leaned back in my desk, raising my hands to my eyebrows in a grimace that pulled my balled fists down both cheeks to express my tremendous frustration. As I did this, I resolved that I would blog a video showing people how annoying smacking can be. When I thought of how obnoxiously I could send my rant into cyberspace, I snickered sinisterly. My professor noticed.He said, “Bless you” and I silently thanked God that he thought I sneezed, and at the same time felt embarrassed to have shown my frustration in such a loud and obvious manner. I’m surprised he even heard me over the smacking in the room.

Turns out, the video takes way too long to upload, and (brace yourself, this may come as a shock) I don't have time to wait for it. However, if you are guilty of loud or offensive chewing, slurping, smacking, or crunching: Be forewarned that I am ready to put the SMACK DOWN on SMACKING. Don't forget that I have George Foreman, Heavyweight Boxer, as my new inspiration.

Forty with Foreman

If you would have told me a month ago that I’d be writing a blog about a man who was an Olympic gold medalist in boxing, a Baptist minister, and an entrepreneur—I’d have laughed in your adorable face. But somehow lately, probably as a desperate attempt to rejuvenate my blogging efforts, I stumbled upon a new little project/idea…and the result is a blog about my new hero, George Foreman.

Y’all remember when this big ‘ole man first came out with the invention? I do. I remember watching the infomercials with the fat dripping down out of the patented sloping griddle…just imagining how glorious I’d feel dumping that fat down the sink rather than into my mouth and onto my hips. I jumped on the Foreman Grill Bandwagon way back when—favoring this handy device as my primary cooking tool in college. Back then, in college, I burnt the dickens out of most of the chickens I ever laid across the steaming slats of the original Foreman.

But that was college. Now, thirty-year-old-Corrie would OBVIOUSLY do better…so I thought. As I unloaded the groceries from my car, my new man-friend arrived just in time to help. He laughed with his slow, deep-Southern drawl: “Oooooh, my goodness. What. Is. This? You’ve done got you a FOREMAN?” I laughed tentatively before telling him that the dinner I’d lured him over with would be cooked on the new grill. After receiving a smirk of doubt from him, I hurried on to explain my new plan to keep up with the blog.

“Hunnnnnnn,” I conjured my sweetest, flirtiest explanation, “Ya seeee, I’m plannin’ to do a blog series that I’m-a-title Forty with Foreman.” He laughed, probably at my attempt to be cute, and asked what the “Forty” would be: Forty days? Forty meals? He was the second person to echo doubt that I’d make it forty days in a row with the blogging. Earlier in the evening, my best friend Leslie got a big kick outta me saying I’d do forty days of blogging. Normally, this would be my invitation to blog for forty straight days if it hair-lipped Georgia, but I reckon they may be right. SO, tonight will be my first installment of “Forty MEALS with Foreman.” It’s like the low-carb, low-fat, charred, burnt-up version of Julie and Julia. I admired the cooking manual as if it were Mrs. Julia Child's Mastering the Art of French Cooking itself.

After deciding that I should pose just like George in my opening photo of this inaugural blog, I burnt—I mean blackened—two blue cheese/peppercorn burgers. Thank goodness I wasn't doing anything too crazy, like poaching eggs or making Beef Bourguignon. Just a couple of little ole burgers for tonight. Very fancy. Here’s the process:

1. Cook.

2. EAT (My obvious favorite).

3. Clean (Enjoying dumping the fat down the drain, rather than down to your derriere).

The dinner was definitely not Julia Childs, but it was decent. And, more importantly, my biggest hope is that it could lead to another kind of forty…as in pounds lost. Or maybe million...as in dollars I'll make when I become a real writer like Julie. But for now, as my dearest ones have suggested, it is gonna lead to meal 1 of 40--with my friend, Foreman.