Tuesday, June 25, 2019     Volume: 20, Issue: 16

Santa Maria Sun / Humor

The following article was posted on March 17th, 2009, in the Santa Maria Sun - Volume 10, Issue 1 [ Submit a Story ]
The following articles were printed from Santa Maria Sun [santamariasun.com] - Volume 10, Issue 1

Sailing the seas of cheese

Can't get enough of that dairy stuff


Based on the endless parade of idiotic decisions I continually make as a husband, you’d never know that I’ve been married for more than 10 years. It’s like I need to take a remediation course on relationships. The class should be titled “What not to buy your wife for Valentine’s Day, her birthday, your anniversary, or Christmas.” Of course, before I could enroll in that class, I would have to take the prerequisite course, “Important dates, and how to use a calendar to remember them.”

On a recent important date, when I was supposed to show my wife how much I love her by going out and purchasing something thoughtful and caring, I came home with the Wii Fit. For those of you who don’t know what a Wii Fit is, you might want to turn down the AM talk radio you’re listening to right now and pay attention. The Wii Fit is a video game that comes with a platform that weighs you and then digitally monitors your progress as you work out with characters on the screen. Some might say it is a great way to show your spouse you love her and that you want her to stay in shape and live a long healthy life so the two of you can grow old together. Others—my wife, whom I love, specifically—might say that the Wii Fit is a $100 way of screaming out loud, “I THINK YOU’RE A BIG FAT COW!”

I obviously don’t believe that my wife is a heifer. I bought the Wii Fit because the checkout lady at the grocery store suggested it to me. She was a female, so I thought I was getting some type of insider information. I figured if one woman thought it was a good idea for a gift, then my wife, a woman, would like it, too. That turned out to be a big, fat, wrong decision. My wife refused to have anything to do with the Wii Fit and told me to take it back. I would have, but once my kids saw it unwrapped, they were ecstatic and wanted to play with it. The Wii Fit stayed, and I stayed in the relationship penalty box.

To show my wife that the Wii Fit was not an evil plot to label her as overweight, I decided to try the game myself to show her how fantastic it could be. The kids helped me navigate through the menus and make a little digital person, a Mii, that looked just like me. The game asked for my height and then had me step onto the Wii board. Suddenly my little digital Mii was given a beer belly and made to look obese. My wife took one look at that and said, “I told you! If you think I’m going to set one foot on that thing, you’re crazy.”

The Wii said, based on my weight and balancing skills, I was a 50-year-old man. I think the Wii had me confused with my dad, who is in his 50s. I also think the Wii missed a few important details before it made its calculations and labeled me a fat old slob. You see, the Wii Fit didn’t consider my undying passion for cheese.

I love cheese. You don’t understand—I love the stuff. My entire life is essentially a carefully orchestrated route for me to eat more cheese. Do I want to watch a baseball game? Hmmm … nachos! Yes, let’s go. My wife asked me what I wanted to do for vacation last year. I told her I wanted the week of cheese. I wanted to sample different cheeses every day for seven yummy days.

If you ask me which I couldn’t live without: sex or cheese? The answer would be cheese, no question. Cheese never gets a headache. People have irrational fears about waking up crippled. I have nightmares that I will wake up lactose intolerant. I love ice cream because it’s nothing more than frozen cheese. My life is based around cheese: pizza, ham and cheese, mac-n-cheese, grilled cheese, cheese and crackers. It’s the fabric of my diet.

My greatest fantasy is to win the 24 Hours of Le Mans in a Ferrari. But I want to do it while going 200 miles per hour with Jennifer Aniston riding shotgun. But here’s the kicker, I want her to be topless, and I want her to hand feed me slices of Irish cheddar as we cross the finish line. Do you think my fantasy is too … cheesy? I won’t sweat the details. The race can be the Indy 500, the car can be a Porsche, and the girl can be Angelina Jolie, but I still want that slice of Irish cheddar. It’s non-negotiable. If there was a Church of Cheese, I would belong to it. I can’t live without the stuff, and the Wii Fit forgot to consider that when it calculated my body type.

Since the game showed me no love, the Wii Fit is now just another one of those things I own that has dead batteries and is covered in dust, sitting in the corner of my living room. When I glance at it, it reminds me that I’m an overweight cheese addict. When my wife sees it, it reminds her that her husband is a fool who isn’t smart enough to buy her a diamond necklace. I probably should have taken the Wii Fit out in the backyard and buried it by now. I would have, but my fingers were covered in orange paste from eating Cheetos covered in Cheese Whiz.

Rob’s a cheddar man. He likes his cheese orange, hold the Swiss.

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