|Oh, look, I finally accumulated enough small thoughts!
||[Mar. 24th, 2011|04:19 pm]
I doubt I could live the life of a restaurant reviewer, but if I did, I would DREAM of writing like this: |
Speaking of reviews: Wendy’s fish filet may be pacific cod, which is near and dear to my heart...er, palate and stomach...but it tastes icky – with a vague chemically aftertaste. Lightly breaded with Panko and...And what, exactly? Because pankio isn’t normally that color when it’s fried and it certainly doesn’t taste like that. You’re not importing that Panko from Japan, are you, Wendy’s? Are you? The only saving grace is that it’s crap like that that keeps me out of fast food places.
Here’s my fantasy: at the tiny speaker I order a Spinach burrito with beans, rice and cheese and by the time I get to the window, it’s waiting. And it’s simple rice, beans and spinach with some tangy queso. No craptastic oozy sauce, no chopped up cilantro and lime in the rice (just a hint of garlic and a wisp of bay) or so much salt and spice you don’t even know what you’re eating anymore, because heaven forbid we serve Americans something plain...they might go home and try to make it! Yeah, right. Sigh. Someday. Someday I’ll put a tiny speaker at one end of my yard and a drive-through window at the other....
Asiago Cheez-Its taste vaguely of egg to me. Which is so gross, I couldn’t even finish the tiny 0.7 ounce sample package. And dudes, I can put away some Cheez-its. Of course, because I’m me, I failed to hermetically seal the half-empty bag, so when the phone rang and I went to answer it, my elbow hit the bag, spinning it into my lap and showering me and my veal pen floor with eggy ersatz asiago cheez-its.
Oh, and of course, I didn’t get the call in time and it went to voicemail.
I really hate voice-mail. This is where I am: I don’t have TIME to punch all of the buttons and wait for people to laboriously explain who they are, why they’re calling, a litany of non-essential details, only to have them then rattle off their phone number like suddenly they got hit by the Auctioneer stick, forcing me to have to sit through the message again. Who am I kidding? Unless it’s one of our customers, delete. If you leave a message that just says “give me a call at your earliest convenience”, delete. Seriously, I’m pretty sure that by the time it’s convenient for me to call you back, we’ll both be dust, or trundling around some oasis, reincarnated as dung beetles.
This gives me great joy:
I have a lot of friends who are Christians. Normal, sane Christians. Who are happy in their faith...and perfectly happy to let me carry on without one. And are perfectly happy praying when and where they need to, without insisting that everyone ELSE pray with them. Who can go into a public building and not be outraged that God doesn’t have a plaque somewhere. Who believe that the Justice system can get along just fine without having the ten commandments posted in the room. Who don’t blame every natural disaster or ugly trend or social decay on people not praying, or loving someone with similar genitalia, or believing that fossils are actually, well, fossils and that knowledge can be arrived at through experimentation and theoretical discourse.
And it’s always been my fervent hope that they would rise up and take the label “Christian” back from these aggressive fundamentalist crazies. I have in my closet a sign: If you’ve ever eaten shrimp or a hot dog, your argument is irrelevant. Yes, attending a rally...it’s on my to-do list, sure. But of course, who has time for that, which is why I can’t blame “normal” Christians for not dropping everything to shut these people down. It’s not Christian, for starters. Plus, right, like the rest of us...it’s all you can do to get through the week, sometimes.
But this is almost better – they’re starting to turn on each other. I mean, I had high hopes when the Baptists had their big split...but really, that was pretty darn civil and professional. But now the fundies are getting it ON, bitches! We are MORE Christian than you; the scripture told us so....
It’s times like these when I think...did I read a different version of the Bible than you guys? I mean mine’s got all that brotherly love....let he who is without sin cast the first stone...turn the other cheek...judge not, lest you be judged.
And then, another happy:
So, maybe you can’t teach an old dog a new trick, but you CAN teach an old bee a new trick – and they’re BETTER for it. So, since so many of us are feeling a little ancient, a little hidebound, a little long in the tooth...go out and do something NEW, you geezer, and save yourself!