I never wanted to eat anything when I was growing up. Come meal time, I wasn't eating a damn thing, and I was going to make sure the whole room knew about my unhappiness by whining until my father would make me go upstairs and sit in the dark. And rightfully so - if I ever have a kid who pulls shit like that, he's sitting outside during dinner, no bargaining. Obviously I ate some things, but they were all terrible. For example, I used to to eat plain hamburgers from McDonald's. What? Who does this to their body voluntarily? You're better off eating from the dumpster out back. I bet homeless people would turn away a plain hamburger from McDonald's because it's so repulsive that starving and dying under an overpass is a better option. Have you ever seen a plain hamburger from McDonald's? It's so gross. Also, I used to eat spaghetti with nothing but melted butter on top. Another exciting night for me, just some good old-fashioned linguini with a pile of Land-O-Lakes on top. I should have been forced to live in a war-torn Sudanese village for a year with nothing to eat but rice while guerrillas aimed machine guns at my face, just so I could come back to the States and appreciate all of the deliciousness that I had right at my stupid little fingertips.
Now, things are different. I'll eat almost anything. And I'll eat it like I'm going to the gas chamber. Because that is what happens to you when you hit your 30's - you stop burning calories like you did in your twenties by doing absolutely nothing right at the exact same moment that your appetite peaks. That whole loaf of bread that fell behind the refrigerator two weeks ago isn't stale, its just dry!
(Breaks teeth)
But, much like anything else in this zany world, a glutton with nothing but first world problems will still harbor some complaints. And there are definitely a few things that I hate in regards to dining experiences and the art of shoving as much food into my face before the people sitting at my table realize just how much of the Paella I ate.
Tapas
Tapas? I assume that translates to: NOT EVEN REMOTELY CLOSE TO FILLING ME UP WITH FOOD. Am I close? No speaka Espanol, mate. I bet eating Tapas is a good way to lose weight, because, well, you don't eat very much food. And it all costs a lot of money. And then you get this stupid little plate with one ounce of chicken and some olive shit on it, and then you have to share it between sixteen people. Awesome. Are you going to eat that garnish? Oh you are? Okay, I'll just go over into this corner and starve to death.
Prix Fixe Menus
Whenever I encounter a Prix Fixe menu, my first reaction is excitement. Sooooo, you're telling me that I get all of this food for this reasonable price? Who's running this place, Enron? THANK YOU THANK YOU, I'LL BE HERE ALL WEEK! But upon further inspection, I quickly realize that the restaurant did not create a Prix Fixe menu to create a unique dining experience. Fuck no, they didn't. No, they just tossed in the most boring shit they have on the menu, and are pretending it's fancy or some shit probably because they bought too many chicken breasts and need to clear the fridge in time for the salmon delivery on Tuesday. But it's not fancy at all. It's more like buying fourteen Hanes t-shirts from Costco because they are on sale. Yeah, sure, I guess it can be classified as "a deal", but it's still just a bunch of Hanes t-shirts that you are going to spill soup on the minute you take them out of the package.
Wow, this is the worst comparison ever. I'm a dope. Moving on...
Hors D'oeuvres
I once pronounced this term phonetically and seriously thought my wife was going to shoot me in the face. HONEY WHAT ARE WHORESDEVORS? Again, I am really stupid sometimes. But, ohhhhh sorry, sorry that I'm not a Michelin Starring expert or whatever, blah blah blah. Who cares? I hate these stupid trays of shit anyway. I usually come across them at work functions, where all the good ones are gone by the time the waiter reaches me, and instead of eating one raw meatball or some other horrible shit every twenty minutes over the course of seven hours, I opt to drink 56 Coors Lights and then eat hot dogs on the train ride home much to the disgust of America.
Finger Foods
The WASP American cousin of Tapas, this is an easy way to get your ass exposed as the Town Glutton. On my honeymoon, the resort we stayed at held tea hour every day. And tea hour featured many delicious finger foods and drinks and different kinds of cookies. Upon arrival, I would sprint to the table and pile my plate sky high with whatever was in grasping distance, and then eat it all as fast as I could while listening to a bunch of islanders play the reggae versions of Elton John songs. Yeah yeah yeah yellow brick road, whatever, where are the rest of the ham sandwiches I was promised?
Chinese Buffets
I know many, many people who adore these things. But I just...I just can't do it. Look at all that food! Where does it come from??? It must take the chef DAYS to cook all of this, and yet, it just keeps coming out, every few minutes. I can only imagine that they have a giant deep fryer and a giant steamer in the back of the restaurant, and they are just tossing everything they can find right into the oil. Meat, vegetables, shoes, people...That's the only scientific way a Chinese Buffet can work.
Smoothies
Meal replacement? Nope. Not today, not tomorrow, not ever. Fuck you, liquid fruit.
Tastings
You have to be KIDDING me. Why are you handing me a fucking plate the size of a coffee saucer? Tastings? Oh no, you must have me mistaken with some dick who never had his nosed smashed into his skull and has an actual palate to distinguish between Filet Mignon and Salisbury Steak. But no, seriously, keep your dwarf food, I can taste away while I am eating a normal human-sized portion of tenderloin. I don't want a piece of steak the size of a quarter. And I definitely don't want to talk about how it tastes. Who the fuck wants to talk about what their food tastes like? That's so fucking weird. I would rather eat it all as fast I can, crawl into a ball and cry for an hour in agony than ever, ever have a discussion about asparagus or potatoes. If I wanted to talk about vegetables, I would go work for goddamn Green Giant or something. I bet those meetings are real knee-slappers. And by knee-slappers, I mean shoot me in the fucking face.
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