Did you know that eating bologna can lead to eating "harder" and more indigestable deli meats such as salami, smoked ham, corned beef, and the orgasmic pastrami sandwich?  My mom had no idea that giving me a bologna sandwich every day for lunch at school would lead to a hardcore deli meat habit which I could not kick.  By middle school, I was hooked on salami, smoked panama red ham, kosher corn beef, and the big "P," pastrami.

I was a good kid with a bright future until I started hanging out with a rough crowd at delicatessens.  I learned how to cut the line by saving the low numbers.

"Hey.  How did you get in front of me?  I've been waiting longer than you."

"Step aside boychick.  Take a look at my number (4).  Read it and weep."

I hung out with a tough crowd - retired garment center workers, used-shmatah salesmen from the lower east side, kosher butchers/accountants, podiatrists, and bigwigs from Hebrew National, Inc.

These were hard men with soft bellies.  They had a million stories about the old days, and they knew all of Hennie Youngman's one liners.  These meaty men became my mentors, teaching me which waiters would bring the leanest corn beef, how to identify "untouched" leftovers, and most importantly, how to talk fast with a hot matzoh ball in my mouth.

Who could have seen that I was headed on a one way trip down the "High Cholestoral Highway?"  I was eating two or three pastrami sandwiches on rye a day, and I found an apartment directly above a small deli on Kissena Boulevard in Queens.  I went to bed stuffed every night, the aromatherapy of deli meats filling my humble abode.  Some concerned friends told me that I had to switch to "cold turkey" sandwiches, and I told them to get lost.

I could stop eating hot pastrami sandwiches anytime I wanted.  I didn't have a problem with deli meats.  So what I have salamis hanging from my apartment ceiling.  Most of those salamis are just for decoration, part of the decor.

Then I find out my friends are planning an intervention.  One of them sends a "care package" to my flat containing organic corn beef to wean me off the real stuff.  They say I am dying from a thousand cold cuts.  Who ever heard of such nonsense? 

Do you really want to help me?  Then shut the hell up and pass  the mustard.  Oy Gevalt!