Ahhh, Friday has arrived at last, giving me a little time to reflect on the failure that is my life.

I couldn’t help but notice how the entire world and God Himself blew me off this week. I got blown off by my boss when I begged him for help in working new hours so I could go to law school. I got blown off by my union rep in trying to resolve some of the ongoing issues at work, from the mouse droppings on my desk to the bigwigs’ initial refusal to accommodate my disability. I got blown off by personnel, who I inquired of for a transfer so I could get the *bleep* out of here. I got blown off by Uptown Girl, who strung me along for weeks before finally ignoring me altogether. I got blown off by friends, by family members, and finally God Himself, who I’ve appealed to repeatedly with many tears and pleas for answers and relief from my troubles.

And now, once again, it’s Friday night and I’m here all alone, with only the wedding photo of a girl I had a crush on here at work to keep me company. Evidently someone thought it’d be nice to leave a copy of our department newsletter on my desk, turned precisely to the page that showed a caption and photo of her recent wedding. Thanks dude! assface…

My latest failures, the problems at work, the loss of yet another career dream, the loss of my latest romantic prospective, all finally took its toll on me last night. As I went through my normal work routine, I suddenly broke down and started sobbing. A wave of depression came over me like a dark fog, draining all my energy and strength. I just wanted to sleep and never wake up again. A day later, the depression is still lingering around (and probably will for a while).

It’s times like this when I start to wonder if my parents can still collect life insurance from me if I commit suicide. But for the time being, I decided instead to enjoy tonight’s lineup of Stargate and House, and go to hell with myself by ordering pizza. With extra toppings. And a chicken roll. And some cheese fires. And baked ziti.

Yep, I’m going full on Italian tonight. To heck with you all.

No, it’s not love, it’s that damned acid reflux that’s been giving me “agita” for the past few months now.

I’ve never been what you would call a healthy eater. A delivery from Papa John’s or another local pizza joint is what I would consider a decent home cooked meal, and I usually got my meals on the run from places where I could get some serious grub in 30 seconds or less. For years I’ve lead a life where I made no time to do my own cooking, and while part of it was just the circumstances of life, most of it was my own doing.

Now those years are finally catching up to me, as I’ve begun to develop food allergies and other health problems as a result of my bad eating habits, which led to my current acid reflux condition. Now I have to finally face the music and hope these problems will only turn out to be temporary. I usually get heartburn a few times a day, and though it’s not severe, it’s annoying enough that it’s negatively impacted my life and affected my moods. One of the most frustrating things about this is not only having to develop a diet that would avoid all the foods that triggers heartburn, but going through the agonizingly growing pains of learning how to do my own cooking. It also has to be a diet that won’t leave me starving 15 minutes after I’ve eaten. The past couple of weeks has seen me fumbling and stumbling towards a new regimen that would finally control my heartburn issues. Sometimes I can’t resist (I just HAVE to had that can of Coke, or a bite of dark chocolate), but I’m beginning to realize I may have to do without tickling my tastes buds for quite a while.

What’s ironic about all this is that I used to have an interest in cooking, making my own breakfast and even preparing my meals in advance. One of the things I’ve wanted to do was make use of a cookbook so I could do my own meals without caving in and calling up Papa John for some of his deliciously greasy pizzas. The problem is, I wouldn’t even know where to begin to find a cookbook that would suit me. The problem isn’t that there aren’t a lot of options and possibilities, but that there’s too many.

Regardless, it’s clear my life in the fast food lane is coming to an end. I suspect God is using the problems I have now to force me into a more sensible lifestyle and help me finally shed the weight that’s literally been a burden to me since the 21st century began. I don’t resent it though, and in fact I’m willing to accept the consequences of my poor eating ways. But I do hope it’s not a condition that I will have to learn to live with. In a way I’m lucky, especially after having read the horror stories of people whose acid reflux problems were agonizingly painful, kept them up at night, and even had cases where they spit up blood. My problems aren’t nearly as severe, but if I don’t wise up now, they certainly could become that way.

For now, it’s time to fire up that George Foreman grill that’s been collecting dust for too long. Good times are here again.