Some of the worst drinks I've ever had have been at Chinese restaurants. In fact, my worst birthday margarita was at one. Tonight was no exception. I tried the "Plum Paradise" which sounded intriging (Plum wine with some vodka). The first sip was just fine. I like plum wine. Sadly, the second sip tasted exactly like grape cough syrup. This flavor lasted all the way through my little glass. Being a college graduate, I've learned that when life gives you shitty drinks, take big big long sips through the sippy straw.
By the end of my little glass, I was enjoying many things near me. I liked how they always bring rice when you order a noodle plate. I liked how the guy at the next table was trying to find the balance between being a serious doctor-type from California (impressive, yet dorky) and being a cool oboeist in a rock band (impressively dorky).
I liked how the people behind me were cold and assumed their food suffered the same fate. They were trying to convey (in bastardized Chinese-English) that their food was cold, not hot..but not hot like spicy hot...hot like not cold...oh wait, cold like not hot...but not really cold, just kinda warm. I then enjoyed when the word "Microwave" arrived in the exchange and how the people only wanted their food heated up by microwave if it wasn't a type of microwave that would lessen the flavor in the food. Brilliant!
My walk home was marred only by my own buzzed logic. Wondering if it was icy out, slipping on the sidewalk as an answer, and then realizing that since the high today was around 25 or so that OF COURSE IT'S ICY YOU DUMB ASS! Luckily, I managed to keep hold of my noodle and rice leftovers. Ah, the joys of being home...
An Erinku:
cheese puffs
glowing
tempting with their
false cheese gods.
No comments:
Post a Comment