So last night, the boyfriend was out doing whatever he was doing. Without my live-in chef, I was left to fend for myself. I looked in the fridge and saw a mouth watering spread of yogurt, dog food, old cheese and expired milk. Yummy! Moving on, I went through the cupboards, which were equally unenticing. Ugh. Where was my man slave when I needed him?
I took matters into my own hands and marched on over to the local restauranteers. There’s an odd little building near my place that isn’t a food court, it’s a stand alone place, but it’s literally just one long hall with various types of food takeout. If you’re ever feeling low on yourself, this is a great place to go. The competition here is fierce and global.
You walk down the little aisle and people scream deals at you, shake pieces of chicken samples on toothpicks at you, enticing you to try. “You try! You try!” screams a woman of Asian descent. Next thing you know, the Indian guy is telling you all about his naan…”Fresh naan! I give! You buy, I give free!” Then you’ve got the Italians hawking you pizza…..”Ehhhhh! Try my salami (har har har)” You look to the left….”Bubble tea! Vewwy goo! Vewwy goo! (This is my phonetical attempt to immitate a chinese accent saying ‘Very good, very good’…….I think it was a moderate success). A chihuahua is hucking refried beans at you (well, not really, but there is a burrito place and what’s more burrito/mexican than chihuahuas? You know I’m right)
You are suddenly super popular. It’s like the fucking UN is dying for you to join. Remember Model UN from high school? Yeah, they all want you in their country, but this time it’s not super nerdy. This time, it involves food and money, not conferences on weekends that you’re embarassed to tell your friends about. It’s an international popularity contest and you’re suddenly the bitchiest girl in school. YOU get to pick. Haha. Work for it Thailand! Come on Mexico! Kiss my feet! You all want my 6 dollars for your greasy, greasy fare.
You can prance along, gaily grabbing the samples they are waving in your face. There’s no obligation. It’s all part of the game. You’re like a free food whore. A takeout cock tease. Sure, you’ll try……..oh, you don’t take debit? Too bad! Haha! Skip across the corridor.
Thai Chicken? Indian Naan? Sushi? Chinese Food? Burritos? You need some drinks to wash down the samples……so you demand free bubble tea and smoothies. Hahahahaha. Suckers. There’s ice cream, a salad bar place…..this place is better than the Costco food aisles on a Saturday afternoon!
I went for a certain level of cruelty. I pitted India and Thailand against each other. I stood there, looking very confused and easily persuasive. It was all an act. I knew I was going Thai because last time I went Indian, I was sorely disappointed. I daintily nibbled on some chicken from both sides. Still…..couldn’t decide. India and Thailand locked eyes. This shit was on. And I was loving it! I inquired how much it would cost to get extra meat with my Thai meal. When I did, Indian guy screams that he’ll give me double chicken, no charge for pretty girl. I almost faltered. The pretty girl thing was smooth on his part. Then I remembered. The betrayal. Oh no, not again you don’t. Men. All the same, no matter what subcontinent you’re on. The battle raged and when Thailand offered me free green beans, I stopped the act. I pretended that that was my selling point, since India didn’t have green beans and I knew I was going for Thai all the way anyhow.
I purchased my food, and happily headed back out to go home and nourish myself. I felt pretty good. I’d gotten a lot of free food by working the system AND been called pretty. The food court trip had been a success.
But then, the player got played.
Those crafty Japanese put up a sign………’All Sushi 50% Off’. Well. What sucker is going to walk away from that? I gladly coughed up $2.39 for some California rolls and took my soon-to-be fat ass back home.
The sushi turned out to be a good idea. It was the perfect post-America’s Next Top Model-red wine drinking binge snack. Thanks Japan. I owe you one.