A slice of life

A couple of nights ago my wife and I were sat at home, slightly inebriated, and very…VERY hungry.

We had been going back and forth about what we wanted to eat. It was our Friday night and were were definitely going to be eating bad, shitty, unhealthy, delicious food.

After much debating I made a decision and said, “I’m going to order a pizza”.

“Oh, OK”, she replied.

There was a pause.

“Do you want one?”

Oh how we laughed!

Partly because it was funny…but mostly because it was true.

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Red whine…

Three bottles of cheap red wine – £12

Doritos – £4

A full tank of fuel – £60

Takeaway pizzas – £30

Visiting my friends in Kent,  eating junk food,  drinking all the wine and then subsequently vomiting so violently at the end of the night that, not only did I scare my friends as I hugged the toilet screaming like a banshee, I vomited so hard I practically turned inside out and saw my feet go past at one point – priceless.

Mmm, my head feels fabulous this morning.

(sobs gently)

Are you going to eat that?

Here’s something that really pisses me off.

You’re in a restaurant with friends and you all order your meals. But when the food arrives and your much anticipated delicacy is placed in front of you, one of your friends exclaims loudly “Euw! That looks disgusting! What is that? Are you really going to eat that?”

Did it ever occur to these culinary challenged arseholes that the reason these meals are on the menu in the first place is because there are those of us out there with a palette craving more sophistication than a Big Mac and fries?

Of course I’m going to fucking eat it. Why else do you think I ordered it you prick?

Also, thanks for pointing out that it looks disgusting. No, really….I mean it, thanks. Now I really, REALLY can’t wait to eat it; knowing full well that others at the table may now perceive it as disgusting. Did I say the same about your wife when I met her? No.

At least I get to poop mine out in a day or two.

It seems to get worse with anything salad related. Usually I get told by people that they “don’t eat that green shit”. That might explain why, when we were seated at the table, you decided against sliding onto the bench behind the table by the wall and opted for the chair instead. I know you said it was for better back support and leg room, but you’re fooling no-one.

I have one friend who, whenever the word Parmesan is mentioned, scrunches up his face and squeals “Oh god, come on! What’s wrong with you?”. This is to highlight that I’m somehow an idiot for loving an entire nation’s most revered grated cheese. He then continues to loudly exclaim that it smells like baby sick, over and over again.

I don’t know about you, but I’ve never actually smelled baby sick. However, I do concur that it does have an aroma not unlike full grown adult sick. Mind you, Stilton smells like feet and I still absolutely adore it (Stilton, not feet). One could argue that a curry smells* the same going out as it did going in, but does that make it any less appealing?

Does it fuck. Pass me a fork.

He makes matters even more infuriating by announcing that he hasn’t actually tried Parmesan. The smell is enough, apparently. He also doesn’t like Stilton…or any strong cheeses for that matter. He also hasn’t tried any of them either.

When I was 5 years old I probably said that girls smell funny and are disgusting too. How wrong I was.

He then continues to ‘correct’ us all by saying that chicken has no place on a pizza and neither does barbecue sauce. Domino’s and thousands of their customers worldwide may disagree with you, but what do they know? Apparently pizzas should only have pepperoni on them. I suppose he’s just being a traditionalist, although I haven’t the heart to tell him that pepperoni pizza is actually American.

But it’s not just him. Loads of people have sat there and done the whole “Euw! What is that? Are you going to eat that?” shit at various times in my life. Yes, I like a variety of foods:

Liver, steak and kidney, Marmite, artichokes, Parmesan, Stilton, lettuce, parsnips, brussel sprouts (yes, I fucking LOVE brussel sprouts….what’s wrong with the rest of you??), garlic, plain yoghurt, skimmed milk, ice-cream in a bap (the Italians do it all the time, and yet we’re accepting of it in a cone shaped wafer somehow…and arctic roll gets away with it in sponge!), calamari, baked beans, etc…..the list goes on and on.

And these were just the ones I could think of recently.

I do, however, draw the line at things like tarantulas, placentas, sheep’s eyeballs etc…because I don’t want to do something that would make the room smell of parmesan. Otherwise I’m a lover of flavours, textures and variety.

I also once got openly berated for saying that I’d eaten cornflakes for my lunch.

“Cornflakes for lunch? They’re for breakfast; you can’t have them for lunch!”

Oh the scandal!

I did point out that the cereal box didn’t specify that it HAD to be the morning, but it made no difference. What if I worked nights and my morning was actually at 5pm? Would the world implode? Apparently, it’s just the way it is…cereal is for the mornings.

I recall this conversation vividly. We were walking in town on a lunch break and when we’d arrived back at the office my friend approached some colleagues standing outside having a cigarette and said, “Dan had cornflakes for lunch, what the fuck’s up with that?”, to which one of the guys replied, “Yeah? So? I do it all the time”.

Awesome.

In your face traditionalist.

Two days later my berating friend admitted to trying cereal in the evening when he’d got home from work and had loved it.

I’m changing the world, one narrow-minded wanker at a time.

*and feels

gross-food-16

To blog or not to blog?

Today, whilst eating lunch at work, I was sat opposite one of the girls I work with and she asked if I’d posted anything new on my blog since the tale of the bastard paving stone.  

I had to think.  

Erm….No.  

She looked a little disappointed. Then again it could’ve been indigestion.
 
This got me thinking. What do I blog about if I have nothing of interest to say? Do I simply post a narrative of the inane and uninteresting elements of my tedious day just so people have something to read?

No, that’s not me. I prefer to write about experiences and observations that amuse or frustrate me to the point of having an embolism…or snotting up my tea mid swallow.  

Then again, if I don’t blog anything for a while will readers tire of my shit and focus their short attention spans elsewhere? Am I at a risk of simply repeating myself over and over again just to ‘flesh out’ this awesomely superb blog?
 
Hmm.  

Also, if I don’t blog anything for a while will readers tire of my shit and focus their short attention spans elsewhere? Am I at a risk of simply repeating myself over and over again just to ‘flesh out’ this awesomely superb blog?  

You tell me.  

So I thought about today and wondered; do people really want to know about the suspicious white scum that collected on the top of my coffee this morning because I used sweeteners instead of sugar?  

And what about the 8 ply toilet seat I’d fashioned from an entire bog roll because I couldn’t bring myself to sit on the seat that had a pube on it when I entered the toilet?  

And surely watching colleagues smash free company-bought pizza into their faces, causing the walls, floors, ceilings and faces to be smeared in a detritus of mushrooms, pepperoni and  sweetcorn whilst I looked on eating my fucking delicious fucking healthy fucking chicken fucking salad isn’t something my readers want to know about?  

Mind you, I did see someone with some ham in their hair; that was funny. Although not as funny as the moronic theory that eating an entire punnet of grapes will somehow make up for the pizza because it’s ‘healthy’.  

That’s like telling your girlfriend she’s got really fat and then, because you made her cry, buying her a cake to say sorry.  

No, I’m sorry, I won’t do it. I won’t just write something because I feel that I should. I want my blogs to inspire, educate and motivate; or at the very least take your mind off your own tedious day.  

So if you want to ask when my next blog entry will be, then so be it. It’s not like I crave attention or anything.