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July 31, 2006

The Cheesesteak Diaries

July 26th

My first one in months. Went to Pat's because my friends weren't happy with Joey Vento's "English only" policy. I ordered a wiz wit' out, and got yelled at by the cashier for not having my money ready. I deserved to get yelled at. When you order a cheesesteak from a national landmark, you follow the god damned rules. Some people can't deal with that sort of thing, I handle it fine.

I ferociously worked my way, vertically, through about three-quarters of the sandwich. I set it down to take a breath and I looked down at my shiny fingertips. I could see the top of the table because the grease had soaked through the wax paper that my cheesesteak was wrapped in. As I finished the last quarter, I could taste the grease that was covering my fingertips and the table top. Some people can't deal with that sort of thing, but I handled it just fine.



July 28th

Pat's, Geno's, Jim's or any other steak shop that you've heard of was no longer good enough. I needed a new sandwich experience and the food gods obliged. I was taken to a place called Tony Luke's in south Philly. The menu was impressive. Various combinations of beef, chicken, vegetables, sauces and other food stuffs were dropped in steak rolls and offered to the public.

It was my first time here, so I had to ask my friend for guidance on which sandwich I should choose. I was told I should order the "Beef Buster" and that's just what I did. They called my name when the order was ready. I took it back to my table and unwrapped it. In front of me sat a sandwich would make the average diner second guess his or her menu choice. But not this diner. I examined the sandwich. Roast beef, tomatoes, horse radish and seasoned curly fries were among the recognizable ingredients.

I will remind myself at this point that I only intended on eating half the sandwich, then saving the other half for later. However, I will note for my own record, to prove to myself that my gluttony was not without justification, that the sandwich WAS NOT cut in half.

I ate the entire thing.

If the sandwich was cut in half, I would have only eaten half. If the sandwich were cut in half, it would've provided me some sort of stopping point. Had I stopped at this point, I could feel that I'd consumed enough food for an afternoon meal. But, the sandwich WAS NOT cut in half. Where was I going to stop? At the end.

By the time I got back to the house, about one-thirty p.m., I was almost fast asleep. I napped on the couch. During my hour long nap I had a lot of indistinguishable nightmares. I woke up sweating. My stomach burned. I didn't eat again until ten o'clock that night. By that point, all I could consume was a small salad.



July 30th

Went to mom's house for lunch. Ordered a chicken cheesesteak from Alcamo's. A Quakertown, PA favorite. It was cut in half, but I still ate the whole thing.

July 17, 2006

James Tews, Yeoman Third Class, USCG

I will spend two hours a day for the next several weeks working out. I must be able to meet the Coast Guard physical fitness standards.

That means I've got to be able to do the following:

- 29 push-ups
- 38 sit-ups
- Run 1.5 miles in less than 12:51
- Swim 500yds in less than 12 minutes

I am also looking for someone who owns an M9 9 mm semiautomatic pistol and an M16A2 semiautomatic rifle. I need to brush up on my firearms skills. I need more practice with the rifle than I do the pistol. I did receive an expert pistol medal in basic training so take note, I'm lethal with a sidearm.

If anyone would like to join me in preparing for World War III, just message me and we'll go running or swimming or something. Until then, I will be studying old ship diagrams and preparing my uniforms.

Respectfully,
James W. Tews
Yeoman Third Class, USCG
(Served 1999-2003)



Deadly

July 13, 2006

Necessity Is the Mother of the Fanny Pack

Get ready for this one. . . I've started jogging. For the past two weeks I've gone jogging like four times a week. I run about two miles each day. When I leave the house, I generally only carry two things with me: my iPod and my house keys. This is pretty much all I really need to go out running, but lately my neuroticism has been getting the best of me.

What if I trip, fall, and die while I'm on my jog? The authorities will not be able to identify me, because I'm not carrying a wallet. What if I'm running through the park and I spot a heinous crime taking place. Am I going to run to the nearest police station to report it? No. But I can't call the cops, because I don't carry my cell phone. My wallet and my cell phone are two items that I should really be carrying if I leave the house for more than fifteen minutes. This means I've now got four items to carry - cell phone, iPod, keys and wallet. Where will I put them?

I'll tell you where I'll put 'em. I'll put 'em around my waist. In a convenient little apparatus known as the fanny pack. The perfect marriage of fashion and function. Now only one dilemma remains, choosing the perfect pouch.