I Am A Picky Eater.

Food. Glorious food!  Hot sausage and mustard!

You like food. I like food. We all like food! I really like food. It is the best thing in the world. Before this became what it is now, it was going to be about food and only food. I will get that to that in a future post. For now, I want to talk about food that I just don’t eat. I have talked about some of the things I don’t eat but I don’t think I have ever really dove into all the crap I dislike.

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Everyone Love Lasagna

I like food. I really like food. I just can’t eat everything there is. My mother likes to claim that my older brother is a garbage disposal and will dump anything into his mouth, no matter how awful it may be. I on the other hand cannot eat everything that people put in front of me. I have my limits. I have standards as to what I will eat. I am a picky eater and I am not ashamed to admit it. I love food. I eat a lot and will eat till the cows come home. When those said cows do come home, I will grind those bovines up and will create a burgers that isjuicy and dripping with grease. Trust me, I like food. I love food. I like Mexican food. I like Chinese food. I like BBQ and above all else, I like Italian food more than anything. Nothing is better than lasagna. Everyone loves lasagna.

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Ruining It For The Rest Of Us

Do you remember when you were in gym class and it was dodgeball day? It was possibly the greatest day in class, aside from the use of the square sliding apparatuses. You knew the day was coming all week. You had the day circled on your Teenage Mutant Ninja Turtles wall calendar. The date was circled in red with a bright marker. You wouldn’t care about anything else. No other news could compare to the excitement of playing dodgeball or sliding around on what is just short of being labeled as death on wheels. Maybe not death but I am sure many of kids have lost a few fingers while pushing themselves across the room and into each other. It was much more fun to ram each other than to actually race to the other end of the gym.

With each day that passes and each box on the calendar getting marked off, you can hardly contain yourself with exuberance and pure, unadulterated excitement. With the final day here and you’re on your way to the gym, you wonder about how many people you’ll tag out or worse, wonder if you’ll get tagged out seconds into the game. You’ll wonder if maybe you’ll be that kid who they see as an easy target and taking out the weak will make the game more challenging than just toying with you and making you feel that maybe, just maybe, you’re actually good and could hold your ground against the kids who have hit puberty years before you.

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Customer Service At Its Finest

A lady I work with just celebrated her birthday the other day. She went to a great steak place. I find it funny that this entry is also about steak. Sure the past blog (yesterday’s entry) was a joke but it was still about steak nonetheless. Her going to Longhorn Steakhouse got me to thinking about a visit I had when I went there. It wasn’t a bad visit at all. It was a normal visit but instead of just having my waiter wait on me and my mom, I had the manager come out and surprise me with his presence. I felt honored. I felt like I was master of my domain just without the one-handed gestures.

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