FINALLY

As you might’ve noticed by now, this is not a blog about meat. Don’t get me wrong, I love a nice hunk of beef as much as the next guy, but the closest thing we got in these parts is that meathead Special Ed (well I’m certainly a hunk but that’s neither here nor there). So, you might be wondering, why “Is My Meat Done Yet?” And why the fuck did it take you so long to explain it? Turns out I have a pretty good answer to the first question. Not so much for the second, so I’m just gonna pretend that one never came up.

My Meat was born nearly two years ago (holy shit) when I was cookin’ up a mean meal in the greatest dorm/suite/apartment the world has ever seen. Standard dish of chicken/steak/porkchops with pasta or rice and some veggies. Throw in a few of the closest spices and boom roasted you got a delicious dinner.

So like every night, I called one of my dear friends over with a simple question: “Is my meat done yet?” And nice, polite dicks that they were and are, everyone first made fun of me and then eventually one of them came over to give me thumbs up or thumbs down on the meat situation. And one of our boys, lil Nicky, was like “Bro that should be the title of a blog or something.” Well ask and you shall receive (2 years later) my friend!

Why did they have to do this, you ask? Pattyshack are you some kind of retard? Well actually yes I am. I have a disability that plagues me day and night and makes me a running joke in the design studio at my office. Oh and doesn’t allow me to chase my childhood dream of being a pilot (just kidding, flying is for the birds!...get it? It’s because birds fly.)

If you aren’t with me so far, I’m colorblind. And colorblindness is NOT a joke. First, the basics. I know your jeans are blue. Stop making this the first question you ask when you find out my interesting fact during an icebreaker. I know grass is green. I know an orange is orange. I know a red light from a green light at an intersection because I’m not fucking dumb – one’s on top and one’s on the bottom bitch! I’m colorblind, not regular blind.

Okay now what can’t I do? First, I can’t tell you what number I’m supposed to see in this:

(No, I can't)

I probably can’t pick the color you want out of a crayon box. I probably won’t know that when everyone at my cousin’s wedding is complimenting me on how good I look, my tie is predominantly pink, not gray.

I will most certainly not be able to color my maps in 9^th grade Geography class the same way they are colored in the book.

And I won’t be able to tell if my meat is done yet. Lucky for you, all you get out of my misfortune is a hilarious blog. But because I’m such a saint, I’m okay with that. I’ll just keep living my life eating potentially hazardous meat and pumping out a post every two months or so. Don’t mind me.