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[The All-You-Can-Eat Phenom]
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It's no secret. Americans looove the buffet, particularly those in these here parts where I be comin' from.
And, as a Mid-Western of Redneck Origin, I, too, love the buffet. Why? Because: a) It is cheap; and b)I hate waiting.
And, lucky for me, I have a good enough metabolism that I can shovel down the grease of everything from the Asian buffet variety to the Kountry Kookin buffet variety (as long as it is chased by a decent salad and at least three glasses of water) and not be punished too severely. [I know this will not be the case in two years when I hit the big three-oh; spare me the lecture.]
Now, in my new home, I have the privvy of living a half-mile or so from an ORIENTAL BUFFET. That is what it is called, plain and simple.
[Clearly, it calls out to the white trash who still call anyone of Chinese or Japanese decent, "Oriental," just as my redneck relatives still use the word "Colored" without batting an eye. I'm sure this was intended.]
For four-ninety-nine, I can eat all I want for lunch. [Tack two bucks on to that in the evening.] I couldn't be more thrilled. Sean and I have eaten there twice in the last week: he, eating as much shrimp he can possibly fit in his stomach; me, cleaning out the sushi selection and emptying the hot-n-sour soup supply. As we were leaving--actually waddling to the car--following an hour of gluttony two nights ago, we joked about what we must have looked like to the wait staff and Mongolian grill cook and the girl who delivered our check and fortune cookies.
Oh the stories these people must have after a long day of serving drinks and refilling hot plates with fried dumplings, dim sum and sweet-and-sour chicken. They probably have us all on video, stuffing our faces, and, while smoking and drinking, they point and laugh at us on a big-screen telley. Those hungry, hungry Americans, they yell, while ripping apart our tendencies to flock to the meat dishes and ice-cream bar, and not to the vegetables and rice.
If we did flock to the vegetables, we wouldn't be American, would we? And the ORIENTAL BUFFET would fail to survive. A sad thought indeed, for Orientals and 'Mericans alike.
Oh, the ORIENTAL BUFFET. The American dream. |
[Reporting From Overlooking the Valley of the Ashes]
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I'm not dead. I just moved.
And, Zoe, I'll have that package out to you by this weekend. I promise. It's on my list of things to do, which was supposed to be completed last weekend.
This week's house-related to-do list:
1. Paint 3rd coat on East wall of livingroom (That damn drywall soaks it up!)
2. Buff livingroom floor.
3. Sand joint cement around new outlets. Prime.
4. Wash diningroom walls.
5. Paint diningroom walls.
6. Buff livingroom floor.
7. Purchase office shelving (Rhodes Furniture hook-up via uncle with, what I think, a connection to a Jewish maphia).
8. Purchase new leather livingroom set (I cancelled the Lazarus set because of the Rhodes "in").
9. Organize kitchen stuff in basement. Bring table and chairs to diningroom (the makeshift kitchen).
10. Shop for new kitchen cabinets (wait for tax return...)
11. Get my office in some sort of order (the bedroom and guestroom are in good shape), which is going to require that #7 is completed.
12. Write thank-you notes for the folks that helped me move, and for Pete and Mary, who not only helped me move, but also donated their vintage stove and fridge.
I think that'll do it. |
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