...The Sound of One Gooch Clapping

My senior year of college I was heavily involved with my fraternity and was also in a serious, steady relationship with a girl who practically lived at my apartment. I look back at these days fondly, but I remember at the time feeling sometimes overwhelmed by the lack of *me* time. So I started a tradition with myself.

Every Monday afternoon while my roommate was at work, my girlfriend was in class and there were no fraternity events scheduled, I would drive over to the local burrito stand, order a monstrous chicken burrito (if I was stoned I’d sometimes order a couple of tacos as well) and a Pepsi and brought it all back to my apartment to eat while I read the latest issue of "Entertainment Weekly". I’m almost embarrassed to admit how much I looked forward to this event every week.

I guess I’ve always liked to have these solitary traditions with myself. When I was 9 my parents sent me off to Jewish sleepaway camp for a month, something I hated every minute of not because I didn’t make any friends (I did) and not because the camp didn’t offer lots of fun activities (it did), but because it ruined my daily “Watch `Chico and the Man’ reruns at 11AM” ritual. I have my priorities. And I did get discouraged.

10 points if you’re not confused by the previous sentence.