I am starting to strongly believe that all food on earth tastes exactly like a turkey sandwich. This warped, yet understandable, view of reality has been provided to my brain by 22 straight days of eating nothing but turkey sandwiches (and one steak). Turkey sandwiches have permeated every part of my life. I dream about being forced to continuously eat turkey sandwiches a la Man v. Food. I think about turkey sandwiches constantly. Turkey sandwiches have become my currency, and I trade them for other turkey sandwiches. The only escape that I get from this grueling diet is the transitory pleasure of Diet Coke®.
My impending date is coming quickly. By Friday, I have to pick out the lucky girl. Right now, it looks like only one girl will actually be in the same city this weekend. I am also pretty sure that she still thinks that it’s a joke. I am sure I will have the last laugh as she sits across from me at a small table at a restaurant and sees that I am wearing a suit while the wait staff sings I Swear to her a cappella style. Hopefully, if things go well, I will ride that positive momentum and lose my final 20 pounds.
After that, I leave with my family to go to Israel to rescue my brother. He has been in Jerusalem for the past year studying to be a rabbi. I do not know where he gets his ultra-religious tendencies. Regardless, it gives me a free trip to Israel. Hopefully I will meet my wife there like that woman last month told me I would. Oh drunk woman, I hope your insight leads to the fulfillment of that prophecy.