So I was in the kitchen the other day. A bunch of stuff ran through my head. These are some of those thoughts, pretty much as they occurred to me.
I never know how much plastic wrap I have left. It’s so thin! And clear! And there are some things it absolutely will not “cling” to. Ever try to put that shit on a paper plate? Good fucking luck. I have three congealing hot dogs on a goddam paper plate and I might as well throw a tarp over it. I feel like the coroner at a crime scene…”somebody notify this frank’s family. He’s already got that cold greasy shit all over.”
Which reminds me. What better gauge is there for whether a food is good for you? Look at it in the fridge the next day. If, like hot dogs, it’s covered with pale jelly-like stuff, it’s probably not too good for you. It’s so bad, in fact, that the fat itself is trying to escape. Grilled chicken looks good the next day.Hot dogs? Not so much. On the flip side, you really can’t tell with frozen foods. Ever looked at a frozen chicken breast? Unbreaded? Looks like a goddam pastry. “Honey, why did you freeze these bear claws?”
More food observations. Why is it that some people refuse to eat the crust of a pizza, but will eat a hundred breadsticks. DIPPED IN PIZZA SAUCE. And cheese?
Some people call “grilled cheese” sandwiches “cheese toasty.” these people should be avoided at all costs.
One day I plan on strapping two boxes of Franzia wine to either side of my head with duct tape, sort of like those beer helmets, only much classier. Once my terrifying boxed wine contraption/cosplay is in place, ima head down to Fazoli’s, kick the door open, and yell “I’M DON CORLEONE, MOTHERFUCKERS! AND I’D BETTER GET UNLIMITED BREADSTICKS UP IN THIS BITCH!”
True story, I used to live in Evansville, Indiana and some co-workers and I would frequent this one particular Fazoli’s. We went regularly to this Fazoli’s not because of its location or superior pasta. We went because of Breh Girl. Breh Girl was an employee of this Fazoli’s.
She was maybe in her early twenties. It’s hard to know exactly, because there seemed to be a number of things, well…wrong with Breh Girl. In fact, her name derived from the word she said when she came around with the breadsticks. She’d ask “breh?” and you replied either “yes, please” or “no, thank you” because you’re a polite motherfucker, naturally. Then she’d smile, say “Okay!” and go about her rounds. The greatest thing about Breh Girl was her amazing super-powered Bread Sense (or Breh Sehn) that alerted her whenever someone was in need of fresh breadsticks. It was amazing. I’d be halfway through my baked ziti and realize “I haven’t properly rationed my bread! I wonder if there’s–” BAM! Breh Girl was at my side.
“Breh?” Oh, yes, ma’am! “Okay!”
She was like Spider Man and the Flash rolled into one. She was amazing. And what was totally awesome to me was that she obviously had some things working against her. Physical and perhaps (likely) mental handicaps. But god damn, she worked her ass off (and well, might I add) for several years. There are a lot of able-bodied, healthy people out there who find excuses not to work. Not Breh Girl. She rocked. And props to Fazoli’s, too. They hired her and kept her on, and I’ll bet she got “Employee of the Month” a few times. Good for Fazoli’s.
Even if they did pay her entirely in breh.
6 thoughts on “Thoughts From the Kitchen…”
F*ing hilarious post, man! Love the image of someone with boxed wine taped to their heads; used to do ultra classy boxed wine bonging (involves suspending the foil bag over the head of a dear friend and pouring that delicious nectar in ’til they can’t take no more) in college. Good times.
Of course, like everyone else here, have blog, will shamelessly beg for readership.
Read it. Or not. Whatever.
Boxed wine bonging? Clearly I went to the wrong school.
Aw Turner, you made me snort with laughter as ever…
I totally saw Breh Girl in my head. Was her last name Remus? Good stuff. I can also explain why a person (namely me) would eat breh sticks but not pizza crust. There is no flavor value to speak of in most crust. Breh sticks on the other hand have the benefit of being doused with salt, painted with butter and a loving sprinkle of parmesean. The dip sauce is simply a lubricant so that your throat doesnt collapse due to hyper-exposure to the sodium.
One thing you failed to mention about out beloved Breh Girl was her surprisingly strong usage of those tongs. In an effort to quickly deliver the breh…she would occasionally squeeze the shit out of that thing and end up giving you 2 halves of breh, or just one gnarly, mangled piece of buttery, garlicy goodness.
I cannot read Bobby Guh’s post without laughing while picturing him saying his post out loud…and describing it with his hands…and picturing the two of you trying not to laugh at breh girl when she came to the table. You guys surely will burn for your antics.