Wednesday, August 13, 2003

Getting Caught Up...



OK, there's alot to talk about here, so let's do it. I haven't really posted anything worth while, and I kinda owe it to the readers to do so. That's what writers try to do.



Last night, I was in a bad mood. My landlady is a sweet liitle Greek woman, but is ruthless when it comes down to money. Nonetheless, she rented out a room in the house I'm living in (I'm renting out half the place, if you must know) to a psycho named Milton. I had to deal with him once before. He had lived in the house last year for a month and a half, spouting things like he had been a psychic and he knew who was killer behind the missing children case in Atlanta 21 years ago. But, no one listened to him, even though, in his mind he was right. He stated he lost his amazing powers due to drugs and drink and was forced to live an ordinary life.



You can imagine what I said he could do with his "ordinary life" and would happen to him if he EVER uttered a vowel around me.



Needless to say, he left afterward and I was glad. He was moving in with his girlfriend, or whomever. I didn't care.



Then, the freak moved back in. Talk about pissed. Ben, my real roomie, hates it too. But, this time, we're trying to train the monkey to jump the hoops. I'm not sure it can be done. Really, I don't care. I just want peace and quiet.



So, while Milton the Monster was moving in, I was headed out. I called up a friend and told her I wanted MEAT. I didn't care where it came from. I just need to eat MEAT. RARE MEAT. We met up at what I now consider the Wal-Mart of restaurants: Golden Corral.



Let me give you the set up of the place, if there's not one near you. Sure, there are loads of places you can go to for a buffett. America loves a good buffett these days. This is why we're so fat and lazy. Buffetts make good little senators. But the Golden Corral is different. No...they have STEAK on the buffett. Slabs of MEAT that's cooked in front of you on a GAS GRILL (!), then sliced. You have the choice of rare, medium, or well. As in, "I may as Well eat it. It's on the menu. How Rare is it to to get alot steak and a plate of spagetti for 8.95?"



So, I rallied up to the counter and the cook gave me a slice of the MEAT. THe cool thing about it was, if I wanted I could go back and get more steak! Joy! I could hear my heart screaming to me. "Oh, God, yes! Clog me , please. This could never happen again! Be the Man you always wanted to be and eat steat to my content! All you need is some dancing girls, and you are made for life, mister!"



I sat down with my food and launched all my anger and all my frustration of the day into the steak. Then, the flavor hit me. Actually there was know flavor at all. Just the realization that ANYONE who puts steak on a buffett is just plain eeeevvvviiiillll. I couldn't even finish it. My appetite was gone and my taste buds ran like Saddam for the hills. Thank God for the guy who created A-1. If it wasn't for that, it would have been like eating raw concrete. I used it on everything. The steak, the mac and cheese, the bread, my iced tea, the table...



This is America, however. We have to eat. We love bargains. If we have to have it, we'll suffer and go eat at a buffett and eat food just like Mom used to make when she was angry at Dad and put a Swanson's frozen dinner in the oven and we'll pay for it, 380 degrees in the long run. We just don't care. ALL the food I can eat? HECK YEAH! We don't care that it sucks. It's all you can eat! Get outta my way, Gramps! Put some jets on the walker and let me thru to the fried chicken or I'm running you down, old man!



If you have a hankering, go. I'm not really trying to put the place down, honest. It's just that when they say all you can eat in the ads, it can only mean bad things. Just make sure they have an Iced Milk machine with a bar that has all the toppings. Now, those ain't half bad.

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