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I Didn’t Choose the Eskimo Life, the Eskimo Life Chose Me

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I don’t know about you but this Polar Vortex is fucking with my livelihood, my health, and my basic human functionalities. It has rendered me virtually immobile. It’s not that I’m using the bitter cold temperatures and the unpredictable blitzkriegs of snow as an excuse to lie around my apartment doing absolutely nothing. No, that’s not it at all. I just cannot seem to gather enough warmth to function properly.

During the first onslaught of the Polar Vortex, two weeks ago, I was at the day job attempting to handle my duties and deal with frozen customers. If I remember correctly, it was about seven degrees outside and snot was running down my nose like a geyser of water exploding from a broken water pipe. My hands were numb and there was no heat at the wonderful establishment I refer to as the steady paycheck. Needless to say, I was screwing up all day long and not only did I physically appear to be cold to the customers, but so was my demeanor. How can anyone be expected to properly work under these conditions? I am NOT an Eskimo.

I don’t believe in resolutions. A new year arrives every 365 days (give or take a leap year), which means little to nothing to me anymore; especially once you’re closer to the age of 30 than you are to the age of 20. With that being said, I don’t do resolutions. I just pick an ultimate goal at any point in the year and I try to set a date by which I would like to reach that goal. I take variables, such as my unexpected death, into consideration.

I’ve been trying to eat healthier and lead an active lifestyle within the last few months. The reason why I’ve gone down this path is because I enjoy playing basketball. It’s my favorite sport. I love it. Therefore, I would like to play at a higher level for as long as I can—remember, I am closer to the age of 30 than I am to the age of 20—so I have adjusted my diet to include healthier food and I’ve dropped certain foods and drinks altogether. I even went as far joining a gym, but with this weather I don’t want to go to the gym.

Within the last month, I believe I hit up the gym a total of three or four times. This is extremely detrimental to my ultimate goal (and my health). I’ve been stuck at home vacuuming each and every morsel of food with little to no exercise, aside from, maybe, a few push-ups here and there. Before January began, I was about seven pounds away from achieving my ultimate goal. Today, I’m about 12 pounds away from it.

So what I’m trying to say is: Fuck the Polar Vortex!

I’m strapping on five layers of clothing and three winter coats.  I’m going to go out and work properly, get my exercise and live life like I did when hell wasn’t frozen over. I didn’t choose the Eskimo life, the Eskimo life chose me.

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Enrique Grijalva - Mr. Minimum Wage

Enrique Grijalva - Mr. Minimum Wage

My father came, my mother saw...and I conquered. I encourage children to do drugs, I buy alcohol for teenagers, and I drink beer with the homeless. In my spare time, I attend art galleries for the FREE booze while rubbing elbows with modish elephants. I also hammer six-inch nails into small penises. Stuart knighted me as Broke-Ass King of New York. You've been warned.