There's a question that has been nagging on my mind for several minutes now: If I knew I was going to die tomorrow, what would my last meal be? Would I quick motor home for a taste of Mom's cooking? Would I go someplace upscale and unnecessarily expensive like Nadia's? Or would I just swing by Wendy's drive-thru and grab a couple double cheeseburgers in order to save a few bucks?
This requires a lot of thoughtful consideration, but clearly depends on the circumstances of my untimely demise.
If I found out I had lung cancer—the wily killer that took out my appropriately named kitty, Puffy, so many years ago—and was going to kick tomorrow, I would first wonder why I was dying of lung cancer. Not being a smoker, I would try to make up for Mother Nature's mistake by buying a pack of Marlies. Then I would probably eat crab, because isn't crab like Cancer in the zodiac or something?
If I were on Death Row and scheduled to hang the next day for committing genocide, I would know exactly what to do. I would have a rib-eye steak cooked medium-well; a side salad including ripe tomatoes, red onions, shaved carrots, feta cheese and crumbly hard-boiled eggs; and some pane carasau with olive oil and raspberry vinaigrette on it, followed by an ice-cold Coke.
If I got shot in the stomach and was bleeding a lot, but was still pretty hungry, and if someone was so plucky to point out that the meal to follow would be my ""last supper,"" I would sit down with my 12 closest friends and break some bread. I would tell them to eat it and then tell them they were eating my flesh, because before the meal was served, I reached into the bullet wound and pulled out little bits of my skin and hid them in the bread. They would probably laugh, throw up and know better than to drink the wine.
If I were dying of hunger, I would probably continue to not have anything to eat and die thinking about a piece of cheesecake.
That's really all I have to say about my last meal. But check this out: so my nose had been stuffy for like two weeks and the first week I was like, yeah, I know why, it's because I have a cold.
Then the cold went away. Zap. All the symptoms were gone, but I still couldn't breath through my nose. So I'm thinking, great, I have a sinus infection. I wait a week, but it doesn't go away, and now I'm getting headaches and let me tell you, I never get headaches. I know, I'm a lucky guy.
So I call University Health Services on Monday afternoon, and I say, ""Hey, I think I have a sinus infection. I'd like to see a doctor.""
The lady on the other end tells me, ""Well, it's almost closing time, we can't squeeze you in today."" Fair enough, right?
So I say, ""Well, how about Wednesday?""
She replies, ""Wednesday's no good."" So I ask when the next opening is. She puts out this air of exasperation, checks the schedule and then tells me Friday is the next opening. Well, duh lady, pen me in for Friday.
This is what she says next, ""I can't put you in for Friday because the doctors don't like me to schedule that far in advance."" What? Excuse me? So the place is booked up until Friday, but after that all the bets are off, it's first-come, first-serve? So what about the people who called in and got the Thursday reservations?
This lady is making no sense. I ask if she can just pen me in, and she transfers me to another line, someone she says can help me better.
Guess what, the new guy says, ""UHS, how may I help you?""
And I have to go through the whole thing again, but the new guy hadn't eaten a brain tumor for breakfast and he put me in for a Friday appointment, which I missed anyway because I slept in, plus my nose had cleared up by then.
