I’ve recently stopped eating potato chips.
I don’t know, I’ve been a chip junkie since before I can remember, a wonderful trait no doubt programmed into me by my snacking mother. The problem is that chips are just plain awful for you, especially eating them at night while watching TV, right before bed. So I cut them out, switching to cashews and homemade chex mix.
I’ve got to tell the truth, I’m starting to feel like some weird hippie survivalist spouting all this healthy living shit, but I’m realizing my plan to live 200 years isn’t going to be easy—Hell, it could be downright hard. Disregarding the upcoming Singularity, who knows how long it will take to perfect immortality? I may have to hold out 100 years for my posthuman miracle cure, strictly by my own will and wits. Don’t think I’m going to get there eating fried potatoes and sitting on the couch. Things done changed.
Actually, while I’m on the topic, I do have a request of the scientific industry: I’d love it if you could develop a mass-market meal-in-a-pill, with the full nutrition and all that jive. That way, I could be done with this whole eating thing altogether, and I could concentrate more on my drinking.
I was almost going to come up with an angry rebuttal but then I figured you’re probably about 6 months ahead of me.
Don’t fret Joel. In every friendship there has to be one that leads and one that follows.
It’s a shame you’re unable to find it within yourself to be your own man.
Jesus, Joel… did you romance this Rufus dude and never call him again? He sounds like a scorned hussy.
Must be, Mike. Sadly, I can’t remember all of my escapades.
Anyone who is insulting me at 7:30am must be obsessed… unless they were posting from overseas at 7:30pm, Australia for example. Who knows?
Rufus. I like the cut of your jib. Call me.
Steve, that’s sort of like hitting a guy behind the play when you post on a message this old.
No way, dude. I’m playing hard to get.