Snack time
Stop the Presses column by Chris Graham
Us American fat-slob types are always getting together for lunch.
Or dinner.
Or breakfast.
And then we eat like “Survivor” contestants moments after they’re allowed to eat something other than berries and rats for the first time in 40 days.
Which is to say, like a pack of rabid dogs.
“Just keep your arms and feet clear, and you should be just fine. Thanks.”
We pretend, ahem, that we do it for the camaraderie.
Wink. Wink.
Uh-huh.
Notice how we never just order a salad and water – for the camaraderie.
Yeah.
That’s the ticket.
Because we’re enabling each other.
(Admit it. Come on. OK, please …)
I have the solution – short of us all getting into our own 12-step program, anyway.
The next time your buddy from accounting wants to get together for lunch, make a counteroffer.
“Let’s get together for a snack.”
Tada!
Never thought of that, did you?
Catch up over a container of apple sauce and a diet Coke.
Yeah, that’s the way to do it.
Heck, have a Twix.
(Share, though. None of this “two for me, none for you” crap.)
Of course, even at 400 calories for two, you’re still saving, oh, about two large from a grazing at your favorite Italian or Tex-Mex place.
Not to mention all that time waiting for your check.
“Some time before the end of the millennium, miss. I thank you.”
And then there’s the check itself.
The average snack will run you what, 59 cents?
Plus a drink that might come to $1.09?
For less than four rolls of pennies, you’re covered.
(This could be the solution to our recession, peeps. Save money on fine dining, spend more on new cars, new homes, new industrial-size air conditioners. You kow, the big-ticket items that drive our economy like A.C. driving O.J. down the 405 on yet another search for the real killers.)
And then there’s the factor of how you might have some time to actually talk to your so-called friends.
“So, Brad …”
“That’s Brian.”
“Oh. Wow. I never knew. So, what are your thoughts on … global warming?”
This could be a drawback.
And what about how most snacks just … you know, don’t cut it in the place of a full meal?
You’ve heard of Ethiopia, right?
A banana, a bag of M&Ms and a bottled water is more than enough to get you through the day.
And save you some much-needed, recession-busting cash.
And help you get to know your friends.
“Who majors in 15th century Eastern European history? Man, you’re such a wuss. I mean, who knew?”
It’s snack time, boys and girls.
Enjoy.
(Published 06-21-03)

















Self-employed – and mad at the boss
Posted June 6, 2003
Stop the Presses column by Chris Graham
Working out of a home office has its advantages.
And then …
“Hey, you’re not doing anything. Can you …”
I get that … often.
People assume that you’re free – whenever.
“You’re the boss man, right?” my friend Eli asked me the other day.
Trying to make the point that we could break away for a couple of hours of golf.
“I mean, come on. Lighten up. What’s the point of working for yourself if you can’t go play 36 in the afternoon?”
The point isn’t that you work for yourself for the purposes of playing hooky anytime you danged well please.
I actually work 10 times harder – make that 11; no, 12 – than I ever did when I worked for somebody else.
“Which is why you should go play golf with us,” my friend Mordecai chimed in.
“Just this once,” Eli said, emphasizing the idea.
If only I had the time.
In between working, running errands …
Taking care of kids.
“Are you going to be in the bathroom all day, Tris?” my 4-year-old niece, Rachel, asked me the other morning.
I ended up spending the day with her – she had the flu, and you can’t leave a kid at school with the flu.
This flu was legit – she emptied the contents of her stomach twice on the ride back from school to the home office.
But miraculously, once she got out of the car, she was cured.
And thus “Blue’s Clues,” “SpongeBob” and crayons became important parts of my workday.
(I didn’t realize I had crayons. They must just magically appear when kids are around.)
I hid in the bathroom to try to get some time to myself, prompting the question.
“I think I be sick again, Tris. I need go baffroom.”
So there’s golf – for the record, I have snuck away a couple of times since I went into business for myself to hit the course for some swinging relaxation – and babysitting …
And errands.
“Come on. You’re a news reporter. You’re always driving around. You can drop this off at xyz …”
Sure.
It’s the life, working at home.
That’s what I hear all the time.
And there are advantages, don’t get me wrong.
Right now, for example, I’m typing this story in pajamas.
And my hair looks like it was inspired by Albert Einstein.
(If he stuck his hand in a light socket. Which, of course, he was way too smart to ever try to do. Just trying to give you a mental image.)
And my dog is at my feet.
Sorry.
Gotta take him outside.
The sun is actually out this morning, and I am at home, after all.
Might as well enjoy it.
(Published 06-06-03)
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