No, this post isn’t about pooping! Come on people, not every post is about that – give me some credit will you! I’m the number one Immodium Abuser, but it seems like you’re the one focusing on Number Two. When I say being regular, I mean keeping the same routine and eating the same things…

As my wife can surely attest, my OCD has been known to get in the way every so often, but also it has helped in a few ways. For instance, when I find something that I’m able to eat, I stick to it like glue and don’t veer off path. I will eat the same thing day after day; you know I’m all for a good routine.

Saying that I’m a picky eater is kind of an understatement; I’m a downright pain in the ass. I have accepted it a long time ago and can admit it. I’m not being dramatic either – I’m annoyingly ridiculous when it comes to food. I don’t eat anything sweet, sour, spicy, ethnic, fried, battered, flavorful, tangy, zesty, poached, powdered, etc. Basically if the menu has an adjective when describing the entree – I know it’s not for me. The blander the better and I mean Senior citizen, nursing home food kind of bland.

My absolute favorite meal is white rice! Seriously – not ice cream, not pizza – white rice is my jam! Besides the fact that it’s binding (which is a gift in itself) it’s easy-to-make and it’s filling. I don’t mean that I like rice and people think “why don’t you just eat brown rice because it’s more nutritious” or wild rice because it has more flavor. No way! Plain white rice is better and I’ll tell you why: If you’re eating a bowl of white rice and you happen to look down and see something black you know immediately that it isn’t rice and you stop eating. If you’re eating brown rice or wild rice, you can’t tell if something crawled or fell into the bowl. It’s dark and crunchy but, was that a bug or a kernel of rice? If it’s white you know it’s safe to continue on. It may sound crazy, but you’ll thank me the next time you look down into your bowl and see a little black fleck trying to burrow through your warm scoop of rice…

It’s not so much that I have a food allergy as it’s a food avoidance because I’m terrified of the consequences. For me taking Imodium before I eat anything is the equivalent of having insurance on your car. You wouldn’t drive a car without insurance would you? Same principle and remember: no one likes the guy on the train that shits his pants in a suit no matter how funny he is! Remember Along Came Polly with the Ferret? That’d be me. If you haven’t seen that movie – go get it on ITunes right now!

I’m a creature of habit, so if I can find a place that can put up with my pain in the ass ways – I’m loyal and don’t change. As in, I’ll seriously eat there every single day loyal. At work, my friend Beena turned me on to a Chinese restaurant that was really clean and had good food. I was suspicious of her because the last time I listened to her, we went to a Chinese restaurant where they had “traditional” seating and we ended up sitting on the floor like stray dogs and we were forced to take off our shoes.

I’m not sure what was scarier: the seating arrangements on the floor, the waitress slipping while trying to serve soup to the people sitting on said floor, or of Beena’s footwear of choice for the lunch: Khaki pants short enough to showcase her white tube socks with black Michael Jacksonish looking slip-on shoes…It was a brave fashion choice: not a good choice by any means, but a brave one nonetheless.

Leary of finding a piece of cat mixed in with my grilled chicken, I was afraid to try another place she recommended, but relented after I did a drive-by to check it out. It was busy, seemed really clean, had nice soap to wash my hands in the bathroom, and an A grade in the window! I went in expecting it to be bad, but low and behold, I was blown away. Beena and Imi know how I eat, so they ordered for me and all of a sudden, the clouds parted and the sun shone down one me: All at once I had found the Cheers to my Norm! It was like a dream as Joann the waitress put down my plate with a beautiful stack of white rice scooped and sculpted ever so gently next to a perky little stack of steamed vegetables lying alongside a gloriously plain pile of grilled chicken drier and blander than my last boss’ personality! It was perfection on a plate that I had been searching eons for. I’m not sure what type of feline special Imi and Beena were eating that day because I couldn’t concentrate on anything besides my lunch; I was captivated by that entrée. I had never been a big fan of Chinese food before, but I was converted that day!

One bite and I was hooked; we started going there two and three times a week. I actually took a picture of that delicious meal so I could show it to the waitress the next time in case they couldn’t tell what I wanted, but in just a matter of days the legend was born: The Tony Special. When I walk in now, it’s like a scene out of Entourage and I’m Vincent Chase – no menu necessary!!! I sit down and they all know what I want. I literally never need a menu again because it was a given what I’ll be ordering. Do you have any idea how nice that is? It’s the closest I’ll ever get to being treated like a celebrity.

The Famous Tony Special!

Next time, forget the perks – we’ll explore the perils of being a regular…