Went to the supermarket tonight. Yes, it's Friday. Don't judge, the store was empty - I made really good use of time, no line-ups. Bought some Weight Watchers frozen dinners. What? I like how they taste. I also had a rain check and some coupons. Hey, these are tough times, it's good to be thrifty. I bought some ice cream too. As a woman it's very important to get my calcium. The thing that might have pushed me over the edge might, and I say might, have been the cat food.
Thank goodness I know I'm not ugly and that this is all mostly by choice.
Showing posts with label eating. Show all posts
Showing posts with label eating. Show all posts
Friday, April 8, 2011
Sunday, March 27, 2011
Don't judge a book by its cover
First of all, why the hell not? If you write a book, and you want people to read it, you need to make it look bloody well interesting. There is a reason that the Twilight books sell better than the complete works of Shakespeare. That being said, I don't think you could pay me to read either of those.
The other day I was out for dinner, at a restaurant that was probably at least a notch or two above my social standing. The type of place where you don't really understand what it is that's being offered to eat but you feel a bit too self-conscious to ask. Or at least I do. How am I supposed to maintain my air of middle-class if I have a trailer park palate.
No such worry for the middle-aged guy sitting at the table next to us, which was close in that cozy "aren't we such a great restaurant, look how many tables we have to squeeze in here to feed our adoring fans" sort of way. He also felt he was in a little over his head, but wasn't afraid to admit it. He joked with his guests (a younger, hip looking couple in their late 20's) that he was probably breaking some sort of unwritten dress code. Initially I was a little embarrassed for the couple and this louder than a whisper (the average tone of the restaurant) gent and his failure to adhere to social norms. I may not actually BE upper middle class, but at least I can fake it.
Part way through the meal we ended up talking to him, probably in big part because he pointed at something we ordered and said, "well, what's that?". Ultimately, we ended up sharing a few nibbles with these folks at the table next to us (it was a tapas place, which is meant for sharing after all!) and our dinner was probably better for it. I think my favorite comment was his take on some sort of snooty pork belly thing - "it's like fancy bacon". In the end, we had a great night and I realized that he is probably a "better" (if not at least happier) person than I am; he was happy with who he was and not ashamed of it. He certainly was a nicer person than the appropriately dressed snotty woman sitting to the other side of me who had her belongings strewn over my seat when I sat down and didn't even make an effort to move them out of my way.
The other day I was out for dinner, at a restaurant that was probably at least a notch or two above my social standing. The type of place where you don't really understand what it is that's being offered to eat but you feel a bit too self-conscious to ask. Or at least I do. How am I supposed to maintain my air of middle-class if I have a trailer park palate.
No such worry for the middle-aged guy sitting at the table next to us, which was close in that cozy "aren't we such a great restaurant, look how many tables we have to squeeze in here to feed our adoring fans" sort of way. He also felt he was in a little over his head, but wasn't afraid to admit it. He joked with his guests (a younger, hip looking couple in their late 20's) that he was probably breaking some sort of unwritten dress code. Initially I was a little embarrassed for the couple and this louder than a whisper (the average tone of the restaurant) gent and his failure to adhere to social norms. I may not actually BE upper middle class, but at least I can fake it.
Part way through the meal we ended up talking to him, probably in big part because he pointed at something we ordered and said, "well, what's that?". Ultimately, we ended up sharing a few nibbles with these folks at the table next to us (it was a tapas place, which is meant for sharing after all!) and our dinner was probably better for it. I think my favorite comment was his take on some sort of snooty pork belly thing - "it's like fancy bacon". In the end, we had a great night and I realized that he is probably a "better" (if not at least happier) person than I am; he was happy with who he was and not ashamed of it. He certainly was a nicer person than the appropriately dressed snotty woman sitting to the other side of me who had her belongings strewn over my seat when I sat down and didn't even make an effort to move them out of my way.
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