Thursday, April 1, 2004

At first I was going to do all kinds of searching for the history of April Fool’s Day, but then I realized - that’s fucking retarded.

Who cares?

It’s a ridiculous holiday where people act like idiots (more so than usual) and follow it with “April Fool’s day! Hahahah”

If it were legal to shove peoples’ heads up their own ass... Man that would be sweet.

This “holiday” is about as useless as Valentine’s Day only it doesn’t require as much money and....... well dealing with a woman.

Fortunately, one of the few right things this insane place does is NOT fall into the April Fool’s Day trap. Although I have to admit, when I saw this:

I thought it was some kind of hoax. A joke. That maybe instead we would get served French Toast Sticks and Sausage. Probably my least favorite “Dish” as it were.
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But after I realized that this place doesn’t have neither the creativity, patience, or vision to run some sort of midday hoax, I realized that it’s even worse than if they attempted some sort of prank.

Why?

Because by looking at the first 2 lines of this day's offerings, I realized the pure horror of it all. Read it out loud:

Chicken... Baked.
Potatoes... Mashed
Vegetables... Hot.

Almost like it’s written in code for the armed forces. Whiskey, Tango, Foxtrot.

I’m thinking someone was baked when they came up with this.

What’s scarier yet, is that you KNOW they had a meeting about this. They sat around at a table, probably with someone like a food prep analyst - or someone who gets paid 10 times what I do to come up with this - to say to them “Hey, if you place the food before the manner in which its prepared, it will make your food appear more palatable on paper and people won’t make as much of you!

Yeah.... Right.

Who are they fucking kidding?

I mean it doesn’t matter how you word it. You can call it “Exquisite Chicken of the Carribean baked in the carcass of a sacrificial virgin with potatoes mashed by finest sterilized slave labor in the Phillipines” and it still wouldn’t cover up for how much it sucks.

And what amazes me more is that they probably scheduled time to have a meeting and sat down and DISCUSSED this. What?!?

And what the end result of all this “brainstorming” and “synergizing”?

Sweet huh?

I almost didn’t recognize that it came from a fucking cafeteria served lunch....

Yeah I’m lying.

The chicken is high as a kite and potatoes are pulverized. However the gravy was a pleasant surprise considering my last experience with oven-prepped poultry in this hell hole...

I can tell you this much: The gravy was definitely not homemade.

I’ll give you some time to recover.

The one thing that pleased me about this day was that I wasn’t performing my standard balancing act because the quadrant now housing the chocolate milk wasn’t occupied. The only required effort was making sure my hypocritical apple juice didn’t have any unfortunate accidents since I’m sure I wouldn’t allowed to replace it.

Hypocritical because it may SAY “100% Apple Juice” but I guaranty I’ve never eaten an apple that tastes like that juice. That’s all I’m saying.

The salad took me for a little trip (like the Chicken was, accodring to the menu)

Hot Peas!

As I surveyed the salad bar from behind the safety of the sneeze guard, I was a little taken by surprise to find something this relatively exotic in its own “tub”.

Chickpeas, the last time I checked, are defined as seeds of the chickpea plant. Have you ever seen a chickpea plant? I have, it’s called a aluminum-fucking-can in the produce section of the grocery store. Don’t tell me they come from a plant! I know it’s shit!

Sorry, sometimes I get mad at farmer for no reason. I apologize to farmers... You do rock by like... Getting us food and stuff. That’s pretty important if I remember correctly.

The last time I got baked I did exactly this: Covered my self in salt and pepper gravy...

... of course it was my own.

Ok I’m just kidding. I’m not like that. Well I am, but not when I’m Sal Baked.

Truth be told, when I first saw this I was actually quite pleased as it didn’t look all that bad. The gravy negated the requirement for ketchup or any other sort of spreadible condiment. Why? Well the explanation is very scientific and lengthy but it boils to because that’s how I fucking like it.... And that’s all you need to know.

Even the mashed potatoes looked acceptible considering the source.

Unfortunately, looks were completely deceiving:

This was my first attempt at taking a picture of a sliced piece. As you can see, this species of chicken apparently does not like bright flashes of light and puts up some sort of protective barrier to avoid proof of its existence. No, it’s not user error. Assholes.

So I decided to sneak up on it, without the flash:

Where are your feathers now bitch?

Much better.

Pictures are a little decieving because they can’t convey the texture and the fact that I nearly bent my fork trying to cut this piece off.

It’s consistancy was that of a 3 day old twizzler that was sitting out of its stay-fresh pouch and didn’t taste nearly as good. I’m not sure if it was the gravy, the chicken itself, or some sort of freakish fusion of the 2 but I thought I tasted veins. Rubbery, formerly blood carrying, veins. I expected it to get up off the try and have a conversation with me or something:

“Dude! What the fuck you want to eat me?!”
“I was planning on it.”
“Do you now they shoved a bottle rocket up my best friend’s ass just because they thought it was funny?”
“Come on man, that is pretty funny.”
”No it’s not! That’s just mean!”
”I’ll tell you what’s mean my friend - eating you and not enjoying it.”

Who’s baked?

After looking at this, you would think it’s me. But let tell you I’ve had nights where I could see something like in the trunk of my car sitting next to my spare tire and I would eat it happily.

But today was not one of those nights...

I picked this up from the teachers table - a special table located in the back of the cafeteria where the faculty sit and recieve regal-like treatment, including special desserts. This one I managed to swipe on X Day. And that’s all I know. Someone came up to me and said “Oh I see you have an X-Day cupcake!”

Yeah that’s right ho. X-Day on your ass and don’t crowd my shit.

I was hoping maybe there was some Ecstasy in the batter mix - since I’ve never tried it and never will - unless accidentally. Which is actually funny considering one of my ex’s had a phase where she loved to munch on those little happy pills. Whatever, apparently most women need large amounts of weed and cocaine to deal with me- I take it as a compliment!

“Eating this cupcake is putting me in the mood to find a glowstick.”

But the sweetness didn’t stop there folks:

Salt and pepper overspray. I was angry.

I know I still haven’t explained my loathing of spoons yet, and I promise I will eventually, but unfortunately, pudding is one of those foods, which I cautiously throw in the category as soup, that requires a spoon to make for easy consuming.

But first: True pudding shoul never be able to support a spoon like this. Where’s Bill Cosby and a snack cups when I fucking need him. Dr. Huxstable! Where are yoooooooou!!!!!!

<ahem>

Sorry.

I could’ve used finger or I could’ve made some lewd gestures and tongued out the pudding from the cup (you love it ladies!). The former requires too much energy and the latter possible legal recourse.

So even enemies need love to be truly understood. And I’m trying to love the spoon.

One thing that made me laugh a bit was a little photo experimentation I did with the flash.

I’m trying to figure out which looks more like the unidentifyable substance that exited my ass about 4 hours after I finished this.

Yeah, I certainly wish I was baked.

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