Why Nicholas Cage is Like Jesus: a Portillo's Story

I must work at Portillo’s. It is AMAZING. They get to wear these swanky-ass outfits with red ties, striped aprons, and black newsboy caps. They look like this:



Also, they have to RHYME when they send out orders. Like, ‘Fifty-nine, your order is fine’ and ‘One-seventy-six, your order is fixed’. What kind of person DOESN’T want those fringe benefits? Plus, it’s a steady job instead of I-work-tech-but-am-paid-only-occasionally-since-tech-is-the-last-legal-form-of-slave-labour. I mean, I love my job, but only the creative parts of it, like building sets and mixing sound. Hand me a box of cords and I couldn’t tell cables apart from jump-ropes.

Another pressing matter, however, is that Portillo’s is slowly giving me diabetes. Now, when I was a wee child at the beginning of this year, They (The Doctahs) couldn’t figure out why I was anemic and having all sorts of weird health problems. Here is an illustration for you:
DOCTOR: Well, how do you eat?
ME: I’m a vegetarian. And also I exercise three times a week. And I have been on cross country and soccer since last year.
DOCTOR: Hmmm. (Makes official doctor-y notes)
DOCTOR: (Does official doctor-y tapdance) Well, it appears you have diabetes. GOOD LUCK AND GOD BLESS.
ME: WHAAAT? That makes a hell of no sense.
So my mom took to it like white on rice, saying how, if I exercised every day, I MIGHT not die. No, I remember having this conversation in the car when I was sobbing hysterically over the irony of this. She was turning left (I hate left turns) when she told me that I could save myself only if I started eating right NOW. And by ‘eating right’, she meant ‘cutting everything that I ate that was bread-related or sugar-related out of my diet, leaving me with canned pears (for dessert), carefully monitored cheese slices, or apples as a daily meal.’ I also had to run EVERY DAY, regardless of school. That was the most hellish week of my life. I know Irony is going to take this and run, but I’d rather die fat and happy than fat and in despair over stupid badly-mistaken doctor diagnoses.
Luckily, it’s summer, and since it’s summer, I’ve had ice cream every day, and Portillo’s TWICE this week. You see, having a car and a job automatically translates to ‘Rachael-Happy-Meal-Time’ since we never have any food. I live in a house where we once contemplated feeding the cats ice cubes since we had nothing else. So here I go, happily gorging myself, just to play up to the irony god’s needs.

Nicholas Cage and Jesus are simultaneous sometimes. The guy just doesn’t know he’s allowed to play other characters. I mean seriously, describing him is basically MONOTONE SAVEY AWESOME MAN WITH BADLY DISGUISED RECEDING HAIR WHO CAN TELL THE FUTURE WHILE BLOWING UP THINGS WITH FIRE AND SAVING THE TREASURE WITH HIS SORCERER TREASURE POWERS ON HIS BADASS MOTOR BIKE WHOA!. If that isn’t a description of Jesus, let me know.