Comida Comedy

"Do you want some sliced cucumber?" I asked magnanimously.
"We don't have any cucumber," She responded.
"Of course we do."
"No.we.don't."
"Then what the hell do you think I've been eating all week?"

With that, Shawna led me to the fridge and pulled out the vegetable in question. I felt vindicated. Surely the tactile contact with a physical item will verify it's existence.

"THIS IS A ZUCCHINI," she explained, as if to a child,"It is completely different. It looks different, it tastes different. This needs to be cooked. Didn't you notice?"

I pondered this new information for a moment, as my thought processes clicked.

"Well, I thought it tasted a little off," I begrudged.

Foods can be a great source of drama in my life.

For example, I don't like to smell a different kind of food than the kind I'm currently eating. It seems vulgar and unnatural. This is especially the case if I'm eating dessert and smell a main course, or vice versa.

Last night we decided that we wanted to try a new Mexican restaurant in town. I had just gotten home from work and was loath to change clothes, but it seemed better than to go in my shirt & tie. We were just going to get take out, so I didn't want to go through the effort of putting on an entire ensemble. The t-shirt was easy enough, but the pants I grabbed at random were button-fly. The button fly jeans piss me off because they require so much more effort, yet, they are safer than zipper-fly jeans. After the excruciating effort involved in buttoning my jeans, the thought of shoes and socks terrified me. I settled for flip flops, even though it was raining and chilly.

"Shawna! What are you doing? We need to leave now!" I always get in an incredible hurry immediately after I am ready.

"You told me to look up the phone number," she said.
"There's no time for that, we'll have to risk going in without prior knowledge."

My dash to the car which included crossing the Red Sea in flip flops, (Or thongs, as Grandma calls them. As in Brandon, are you wearing your thongs today?)which was an unpleasant experience. My hurry always takes a hiatus when I get to the car. I have to first find an appropriate song to begin the journey on. As I have over 14,000 songs on my ipod, it takes some time. I finally selected a song (I usually just skip through until I find one by Rush), and we were off.

I have been watching a lot of "Top Gear." It's a popular British show about fast cars, technology, and general British antics. Unfortunately, since I've been watching it I've wanted to replicate the daredevil maneuvers of the professional drivers. I spun the tires and fishtailed my hot-rod '95 Monte Carlo. (It is not a hot-rod) After a derisive look from my co-pilot, I began to maintain a more proper pace. It corresponded with a slow part in the song anyway. And my car probably needs a little TLC before it can compete with the Lambos on the show. Maybe an oil change. Or some oil period. I am not an expert.

The Mexican placed was closed. I'd wasted too much time.
"Son of a bitch," I exclaimed, questioning the parentage of an inanimate object, "now what?"
"Sonic?"
"My car window doesn't roll down."
"Taco Bell?"
"We would have to go in."
"So?"
"I'm wearing flip flops with a coat."
"So?"
"It's very uncouth," I tried to explain, knowing I'd lost. We went to Taco Bell.

I hadn't been to a taco bell in a long time. And I haven't ever been sober. So this was a new experience. Everything was bright and new. An unfamiliar menu made me extremely nervous. The "Big Box Meal" caught my eye.

"What is that?" I asked Shawna.
"The Big Box Meal, it looks pretty good."
"Is it for a person or a group?"
"I don't know. A person, I think."
"But you don't know. Have you ever had it?"
"No, Brandon."
"Then you aren't an expert."
"I guess not."

With that, I knew I would have to engage the natives. I always feel that it's my duty to inject a little whimsy into the lives of those in the service industries.

"Excuse me sir," I began, "That Big Box Meal, what is it?"
"Uh, it's a meal in a box. It comes with everything in the picture," he droned.
"Does the box come with it?" I asked eagerly.
"Yes."
"Is it meant to be eaten by one person?"
"I don't know what you mean."
"Is the serving recommended for one person, or for a group?"
"Uh, most people just get it for one person I guess."
"So if I get one for myself, I won't look like a voracious rhinoceros?"
"I don't know. You could share it with as many people as you want. I don't care personally."
"Excellent. I'll have one just for myself, and whatever the lady would like."

Shawna looked at me with the sad attachment that people who work with chimpanzees feel. We moved on to the drinks, and I explained to her about the physics of the ice and liquid ratio. She pretended to care, as she often does. I went to the condiment section and exclaimed with surprise and joy that they had new flavors: salsa verde, and fire roasted something-something. I grabbed fistfuls of each.

When the order was called up I was filled with conflicting emotions. There were two boxes, which I was happy about, but they weren't in a bag, which was problematic. I was going to have to speak to the man again, and he was a very tough audience. But I had picked out so many condiments and napkins that I couldn't possibly carry them.

"Excuse me once again, could I trouble you for a bag? I need a more clandestine way to carry out all of the condiments I'm taking," I explained with a 'wink-wink, nudge-nudge,' kind of smile. He did not respond, but just gave me the sack.

When we got to the car, I asked Shawna why the man was so unresponsive.
"Please don't talk to the workers. We've been through this. Even people that know you don't know how to take you. You say everything in such a deadpan voice that they don't know you are joking. And your vocabulary is a little eccentric for them."
"Ah, so my perfect deadpan delivery, and vocabulary genius are too much for their feeble minds, eh?"
"Something like that."

After we spent fifteen minutes finding the right song, we went home, and enjoyed our boxes. I only used 25% of the salsa packets I'd taken.