The significance of my last real meal and 40 hours
My Last Meal for 40 hours
So, last evening for dinner I made this tasty meal of turkey bacon wrapped turkey filets, green beans, chicken rice, salad, and for dessert watermelon. This was of course in observance of the ritualistic holiday Latcer Noitaloiv (pronounced latkeer nooatalooav). Now, most ritualistic holidays are observed when one reaches the age of thirteen. The nice thing about this holiday is that one doesn’t need to observe it until they reach the age of fifty. And unlike most holidays, it is only observed once every ten years. How cool is that? But, you say, you are not fifty yet. And yes, this is quite true; while I’m old, I’m not THAT old! However, in my particular case, the moon and stars along with the moons of Jupiter and Saturn were all in alignment, and the high officiant deemed it necessary for me to observe said holiday much too early.
But I digress. Continuing on, forty is another biblical number so that was fitting here. This holiday was deemed, by the powers that be, to be observed in hours since forty days of this nonsense would drive anyone to off themselves within the first several days. Now while I did say it would be of biblical proportions, it may not be on the order of THE last supper, but the rush will be biblical!
Okay, so how does one observe the holiday? Well, for the forty hours up to the holiday, one must observe a strict diet of clear liquids only. And positively no red colored liquids. This is a bloodless holiday people! When the big day arrives, you gather yourself in the most undignified, embarrassing, and demeaning sort of pose, you consume large quantities of hallucinogenic drugs (all legal of course: this is an official holiday!). You do some chanting, praying, and huffing and puffing and when it is all over, supposedly you don’t feel or remember a thing (yeah, that’s what I’m banking on ’cause lord knows what I’ll be rambling on and on about).