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Week 12: Food

15 Mar

Ketchup

15 Mar

A fear of confined spaces is called claustrophobia.

A fear of the number 13 is called triskaidekaphobia.

A fear of ketchup is called—

– Wait, what?  Ketchup?   You mean the condiment, ketchup?  The red one?

Yeah, that’s right. I don’t like to admit it, but here goes:  I have a highly irrational fear of ketchup.  Even the green one too.

What the hell were they thinking?

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Anyway, I fucking hate ketchup.  I can’t eat it.  I can’t stand it.  I can’t be around it.

Having a fear of ketchup is apparently so rare that there is no accepted term for it on the internet.  Answers.com tells me that the proper term is “mortuusequusphobia.”  What the fuck?  If you break it down, mortuusequusphobia sounds like a fear of an undead, naked Daniel Radcliffe making love to horses.  To me, that is 100% fucking rational.

“I will love you until the end of time. But then I will eat your brains. But remember, I will always love you.”

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All Harry Potter apocalypse scenarios aside, ketchup sucks.  I’ve hated it ever since I can remember.  If ketchup comes on any restaurant meal I order, I send it back for a new one.  If there’s any trace of ketchup on my plate, I ask for a new one.  If there’s a bottle of catsup (haha catsup) on the table, I have to push it over to the other side, but I can’t touch it with my hands, only with my sleeves.  If somehow ketchup manages to find its way onto me, I have to wash my hands like Lady Macbeth until that damned spot comes out.  I’m so neurotic about ketchup, I make Woody Allen in… well… uh… anything look like Vin Diesel in… well… uh… anything.

Sound obsessive?  You bet.   Publicly embarrassing?  It has been, of course.  In high school, some “friends” (definitely no longer my friends) who knew of my fear decided to wave some Heinz Devil SemenTM in my face at an Applebee’s.  Can you guess which of the following happened?

a)      I jumped backwards out of the booth onto my ass on the floor

b)      I flailed and knocked the bottle out of my friend’s (definitely no longer my friend’s) hand, breaking it on the table

c)       A large crowd of people, including young children, old farts, and a group of nuns getting drunk at the bar, gathered around and laughed at me

d)      Painfully, all of the above

If you picked choice d, correct!  Which would also mean that I lost.  Some ketchup splattered on me and my clothes.  You know the drill.  It’s safe to say that I spent the next few hours uncomfortably wet and wishing I had gone to Friday’s.  Which has plastic ketchup bottles.  And better appetizers but worse entrees.  Really depends what kind of mood you’re in.

57 varieties, huh? I hate all of them. How about 57 varieties of FUCK YOU!?

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It’s funny that I hate ketchup, because to be quite honest, I love tomatoes.  So if I tried it, you might expect me to like it, right?  Rewind to 2 years back.  I was coming home from a concert with a certain rumbler (whose name rhymes with “snakes”) when we stopped at a Burger King.  He was eating some ketchup on his fries, when out of nowhere, I wanted some.  As cocksure as Joakim Noah at a World’s Ugliest Man contest, I dug in and ate one fry, with one miniscule amount of ketchup.

And the verdict?

Well, the world didn’t end.  But I still didn’t like it.  It was gross.  I yelled at Snakes for making me try it, even though he totally didn’t.  I think it’s pretty safe to say that I won’t try it again any time soon.

So to conclude, you how everyone really likes the phrase “I love you like a fat kid loves cake?”  Well I’m starting a movement for “I fucking hate you like Steve fucking hates ketchup.”  I hope you guys can support me on this one.

– Steve

The Avocadode

15 Mar

As a child, such a picky eater,
By the foods she gave me, Mom seemed quite mean,
So now I will promptly rhyme in meter,
To discuss my hatred of all things green.

I nightly quarantined every pea,
Lest they infect my delectable meal,
Spinach filled my heart with melancholy,
The promise of dessert its sole appeal.

Celery’s crunch irritated my ears,
Aspar’gus made my pee smell like latex,
Broccoli appeared in many nightmares,
Kale was the opposite of steamy sex.

But the worst of greens, this talk doth require,
Bland, tasteless, and oily was his motto,
Its presence chlorophylled me with ire,
The dreaded despot, King Avocado.

I hated its shimmering, tar-like tint,
I hated its fine mahogany pit,
I hated its smug, “healthy” fat content,
I hated everything about it.

I hated it more than Octomom Kate,
I hated it more than using Yahoo!
I hated how it made me replicate,
That poem from 10 Things I Hate About You.

Half a score later, I took some advice,
From an expert well versed in green-hued food,
In Seuss’ spirit, I roll’ed the dice,
Hoping my foe might turn out to be good.

I placed the tiniest ‘cado sliver,
Upon the tip of my hesitant tongue,
To my surprise, ‘twas better than liver,
Quite diff’rent than the ‘spected taste of mung.

In fact, I think I liked avocadoes,
The flavor subtle and yet savory,
Eating them was like winning the lotto,
Except not as riveting a story.

They were delicious on any salad,
On all types of sandwiches, oh so good,
In mashed form, to all chips I’d add,
I would skeet guacamole if I could.

So the lesson here for all you jokers,
Is not that you should ‘spand your appetite,
But if you want food un-mediocre,
The avocado is a true delight.

– Adonal

A Meal Is Worth A Thousand Words

15 Mar

They say “you are what you eat.”

This is blatantly false.

Unless you’re consuming your boogers, you are most certainly not what you eat.

I am not a chicken nugget. You are not a burrito. We are humans.

Case closed.

However, what you eat can tell people a lot about you. Examining the food on someone’s plate is a very easy way to learn about a stranger or acquaintance without actually having to talk to them.

Here are a few examples.

Stereotyping People
Based On What They’re Eating
(a.k.a. “Food Profiling”)

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Food: Veggie burger
Conclusion: This person is a vegetarian.

Food: Bacon cheeseburger
Conclusion: This person is not an orthodox Jew.

Food: Gushers
Conclusion: This person is in elementary school.

Food: Uncrustables
Conclusion: This person is in elementary school and has lazy parents.

Food: Cheese sticks dipped in French onion dip
Conclusion: This person is Pete The Peasant.

Food: Fermented squid guts
Conclusion: This person is on Fear Factor.

Food: Grapes, cheese, and crackers
Conclusion: This person is at an art gallery.

Food: Lentils
Conclusion: This person does yoga.

Food: Monster energy drink.
Conclusion: This person has a penis.

Food: XXL Monster energy drink (32 fl oz.)
Conclusion: This person has a penis and unkempt facial hair. (There’s also a 30% chance this person listens to Slipknot.)

Food: Tapioca pudding
Conclusion: This person is a senior citizen.

Food: Scrambled egg whites with dry toast
Conclusion: This person will not be exciting to talk to.

Food: Chili hot dog
Conclusion: This person will want to talk about football, the ultimate fighting championship, or whatever was recently on Spike TV.

Food: Ret hot dog
Conclusion: This person is from Maine.

Food: Evander Holyfield
Conclusion: This person is Mike Tyson.

Food: Cranberry juice
Conclusion: This person may have a urinary tract infection.

Food: An entire pint of Ben & Jerry’s Half Baked ice cream
Conclusion: This person is not lactose intolerant. This person has an abnormally fast metabolism. This person has no will power.

Food: Sushi
Conclusion: This person owns a Mac.

Food: Organic yogurt with hand-picked raspberries and granola
Conclusion: This person enjoys hiking.

Food: Whopper with fries
Conclusion: This person enjoys watching reality TV.

Food: Green Apple Smirnoff Ice
Conclusion: This person enjoys reading Seventeen magazine. Alternatively, this person is me.

Food: Tuna fish sandwich
Conclusion: This person is (or acts like) a middle-aged woman.

Food: Bologna and cheese sandwich
Conclusion: This person is (or acts like) a prepubescent boy.

Food: Turkey sandwich–no cheese, vegetables, or condiments
Conclusion: This person is afraid to take risks.

Food: Vietnamese sandwich
Conclusion: This person likes alternative music.

Food: Knuckle sandwich
Conclusion: This person takes things too literally.

Food: An eight-inch sandwich on very lightly toasted black-olive ciabatta, with 6 or 7 leaves of baby spinach, 2–no make that 3–slices of tomato, 1 oz. of alfalfa sprouts, 6 slices of soppressata,  4 slices of prosciutto, a quarter inch across of fresh mozzarella, a couple pieces of zucchini, with about a tablespoon of pesto on one side of bread, and just a tiny bit of red pepper humus on the other side–no, a little more… a little more… ok, yep–no, wait, that’s too much.
Conclusion: This person will be difficult to date (and most likely color codes his or her belongings).

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I hope you find this guide helpful in superficially judging the people around you.

– Cakes

Vote On Your Favorite Entry

15 Mar

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Thanks for reading.

Next week’s prompt: Reviews