05/18/2006: "The Art or Fast Food"

music: the sound of silence....more of less.
mood: Are we there yet...

I know food has a tendency to run my mood, but let’s talk a little bit about the concept of fast food. Let’s take a moment to analyze those two words. FAST and FOOD. Now certainly there are those that define fast FOOD as hardly food. I have a special relationship with fast food. Fast food (can I use that term a few more times…oh you betcha) is indeed sustenance. It is used in situations when I am going to eat it so quickly I may not even taste it. I therefore don’t care so much about the food part other than to ensure it will prevent me from dying. Food is 1) a hangover cure, and being that I don’t get hung over, nor even drink enough to get hung over, I have used fast food for this purpose 3 times in my entire life , and 2) to stop the hunger cranky time bomb. So barring any solid eating plans, if I am caught unawares in the 15 minutes from, man I’m hungry to EVERYTHING SUCKS, ROAR, I resort to fast food.

At 10pm last night I debated if I could make it home and get a bowl of cereal before I gnawed off my own arm, went for a stray kitten or actually died from starvation (do NOT, laugh, you would be surprised how fast a Greenwood can work through the fat reserves by panic alone). Assuming the risk I would not make it was too great, I pulled into taco bell. There were 2 cars in front of me.2 cars. 1, 2. TWO. How many? Two.

Now, let’s examine the word FAST and think about that for a moment shall we. What would you consider fast? A minute to order. Let’s be generous. A minute per person in the car, I think that’s very generous. So worse case scenario, I should be ordering in 3 minutes. I felt like Jack Bauer in 24 (yes the show I don’t watch) the clock is ticking. Presumably these people are hungry too. They are eating at 10pm, they choose a FAST food location. So here’s my beef, no pun intended. If you are in line to order FAST FOOD, order fast. There really isn’t that big of a difference between the items on the Taco Bell Menu. Same basic ingredients dressed up a bit differently. Whether or not you want any hot or mild sauce….not a life altering decision in most cases I would wager. Doesn’t require a great deal of consideration in my opinion. But it’s a two way street…if you are a FAST FOOD establishment, do not, I repeat, do not give your customers options. I know it is wholly unamerican (and un Californian, land of culinary exceptions) of me to suggest this, but the difference between ordering a chicken grilled stuffed burrito full stop, and a chicken gilled stuffed burrito, with no sour cream, no tomatoes, extra cheese and a side of guacamole is 1) too complicated for the evening shift staff of any fast food restaurant 2) doesn’t have corresponding cash register keys and will require a manger to make the adjustments to the price and 3) require a lengthy discussion on WHY it costs what it does all of which are unacceptable when I am hungry. Assuming there are no additional language barriers from orderee or orderer (though I’m pretty sure chalupa is chalupa in Manderin, Vietnamese, Tagalog, Swahili, and Canadian) even with these options we should be able to eventually proceed in a somewhat reasonable pace. Oh, but no…because there was another flag on the field. Let me just say that once you say that’s all, you also may not change your mind and make them add everything up again. It’s about this time as the cars pile up behind me that I am concerned 1) there will a riot with me in the middle and 2) I will in fact die.

12 minutes later I got to order. I took 20 seconds, and no I do not want a drink, just give me a goddamn burrito. I haven’t had much luck with burritos lately I guess. I had exact change ready, unlike SOME novices. Were it not for the blatant disregard for the rules of fast food and violation of these rules by the cars in front of me, I may not have had to beat the crap out of them. Okay, that last part wasn’t true. I had 30 seconds left before I was rendered not responsible for my actions. Burrito was unwrapped before I left the drive through and once more I was saved from the brink of starvation, said burrito inhaled before I drove up my driveway 2.4 miles later. I hope we all have learned a little something from this parable. NEXT..

WEIRD dreams. I dreamed I was with my friend Adrienne Wilkinson and we were purchasing the “pajama” discount tickets to Wizard of Oz for SUNDAY MAY 29th. Don’t ask why there would be a discount for wearing pajams to the Wizard of Oz. I said DON’T ask. I was in Row E seat 10, but Adrienne wanted E 1 or E 26. I’m not sure why I am making bizarre fictious social plans in such detail in my sleep. The 29th is not a Sunday, but on the calendar in my brain it was. I hope I don’t have the wrong date and miss the show when I go back in my dream to see it. Even as I am typing… I understand part of where these things may have come from. I was in fact listening to Wicked the musical yesterday at work. Also during one of the scenes I was rehearsing for last night I was told to “jew” it up a bit. Being an honorary Jew (my roommate from college, all for years, Adrienne Misheloff nominated me) my intonation is widely commented on as being Jewish. That or British…don’t ask. That and I have the Jewish spelling of Susannah. I’m sure there’s a past life that explains the connection to “my people”, but I digress. Point being I love how a brain just does a mash up of the days bytes. Think how many short films in ones brains go unmade, unseen to the public, and maybe even detected by ones own conscience.

Loser of the week: San Jose Sharks. Lost in game 6 to the Edmuton Oilers. That is what you get for booing a teams national anthem. Poor form fans, you jinxed it, the Karma police pulled your team over and its all your fault. That and not shaving. I love hockey, I respect the players (skating on ice, with a stick…from a non land animal, you are like my super heroes) but SHAVE. Or grow and trim your facial hair in a logical fashion. Having your face look like an accident may not be avoidable in the teeth and scar department, occupationa hazards, but I’m pretty sure if you can move like that on the ice, you can use a razor. Or on your salaries have someone else do it that know what they are doing. Hell I will do it. That soul patch…not sexy. Let’s try to raise the bar on personal style a bit. If you can’t win you can still look like a winner. I’m not asking for Prada uniforms, or even for you to change your colors to something more masculine, I’m not telling you to even cut your hair. Just shave. That scruff and the side burns, not required to keep you warm.

Winner of the Week: The Hot tub. Good to know that when you come home to a disgusting kitchen, and some of the roommates have become your own personal button pressers, you can sit alone in the dark, with the view of the whole silicon valley and soak your irritation away. Until that is you realize you are probably about to be bitten by spiders. DIVE DIVE!!! Best to have the lights out so you don’t see what you are missing…..

I have a great weekend of NOTHING but reading and personal projects (read, laundry, gardening, and room cleaning) planned. I am going to try DESPARATELY not to go into work this weekend except to report on Sat. The weather is supposed to be warm with some showers. My favorite. Have a good one!