Maria Wong

I'm considering becoming a vegetarian (again). The first time I went all-veggie was because I felt sorry for the poor animals. I was young, and had never experienced a great steak. After the steak, I became a vegetarian for health reasons. That didn't last too long, either, but I have to admit that I felt great during that time. This third (and final) attempt at joining the vegetarians of the world is because of a nameless, faceless woman that works at the Krystal's near Marietta Square. See, on those rare (ha!) occasions that I have been out drinking, I crave something greasy and bad for me on the way home. Since Krystal's is always open late, I usually end up there. Anyway, there is a woman that takes the orders at the drive-through with a very strong accent. The drive through speakers are so awful, I can't even discern if it is a Spanish accent or Chinese. Saturday Night:

"I take you order now."

"Can I have two Krystal chicks with cheese and an ice water, please?"

"Two chickens wit cheese?"

"Um... two Krystal CHICKS with cheese. And that ice water. Please."

"Yeah. Two chickens wit cheese."

At this point I was a little worried (I wasn't sure if they were going to throw a clucking , flapping fowl into my car or two little burgers), but the alcohol in me demanded that I go with it.

"Yes. I'd like two chickens with cheese. Don't bother plucking. And just slap the cheese on their backs."

"That $2.06. Drive around."

Man, that's cheap for two chickens. The cheese alone usually costs 50 cents.

I wanted to meet this "interesting" woman who made me giggle at 3:00 in the morning, that put such horrible and "fowl" (pun intended) images in my head.. that she inspired me to give vegetarianism another try, and Lord, but what kind of accent is that, anyway? But when I pulled up to the window, there was an old southern man there to take my money. As I drove home eating the pickles off of my sandwich I was overcome with a mixture of disappointment from not meeting "Maria Wong" (the name I gave her since I couldn't figure out if she was Spanish or Chinese) and relief over NOT getting what I had ordered: Two chickens, unplucked, with cheese.

Regurgitation

Dear Alcohol,

First & foremost, let me tell you that I'm a huge fan of yours. As my friend, you always seem to be there when needed. The perfect post-work cocktail, a beer at the game, and you're even around in the holiday's hidden inside chocolates as you warm us when we're stuck in the midst of endless family gatherings.

However, lately I've been wondering about your intentions. While I want to believe that you have my best interests at heart, I feel that your influence has led to some unwise consequences:

1. Phone calls: While I agree with you that communication is important, I question the suggestion that any conversation of substance or necessity takes place after 2 a.m. Why would you make me call those ex-friends when I know for a fact they do not want to hear from me during the day, let alone all hours of the night?

2. Eating: Now, you know I love a good meal, but why do you suggest that I eat a taco with chili sauce, along with a big Italian meatball and some stale chips (washed down with WINE & topped off with a Kit Kat after a few cheese curls & chili cheese fries)? I'm an eclectic eater, but I think you went too far this time.

3. Clumsiness: Unless you're subtly trying to tell me that I need to do more yoga to improve my balance, I see NO need to hammer the issue home by causing me to fall down. It's completely unnecessary, and the black & blue marks that appear on my body mysteriously the next day are beyond me.

Similarly, it should never take me more than 45 seconds to get the front door key into the lock.

4. Furthermore: The hangovers have GOT to stop! This is getting ridiculous. I know a little penance for our previous evening's debauchery may be in order, but the 3pm hangover immobility is completely unacceptable. My entire day is shot. I ask that, if the proper precautions are taken (water,vitamin B, bread products, aspirin) prior to going to sleep/passing out face down on the kitchen floor with a bag of popcorn, the hangover should be minimal & in no way interfere with my daily activities.

Alcohol, I have enjoyed our friendship for some years now & would like to ensure that we remain on good terms. You've been the invoker of great stories, the provocation for much laughter, and the needed companion when I just don't know what to do with the extra money in my pockets. In order to continue this friendship, I ask that you carefully review my grievances above & address them immediately. I will look for an answer no later than Thursday 3pm (pre-happy hour) on your possible solutions & hopefully we can continue this fruitful partnership.

Ghosts In The Hall

Ever feel like you don't exist? I am stuck in this damn "Industrial Loft".. (cinder block) all day and I wait for something to happen. On the off chance that I go outside to get the mail, people walk through me. Everyone says that there is supposed to be some kind of Southern politeness.. Bullshit.. when people pass they look down and don't say hello. Unfriendly bastards. When I wasn't lonely I didn't notice it as much. I feel like a damn agoraphobic. Then the paranoia sets in.. maybe people aren't talking to me because I look hideous. My heart racing as I take the long walk to the bathroom (5 steps).. I flip on the light expecting to look like Alice Cooper or Keith Richards... but no.. just Kate, chubby, late twenties, unemployed, redhead.. but make-up nicely done if I must say so myself (and I do). So what's the problem? People must sense my need for friendship and take it as psychotic. I guess I'm crazy for wanting a friend to go hang out with. At least I have Tim.. but he's always focused on work. He really doesn't engage in conversation unless I ask him about work. I'm such a selfish bitch, I want it to be about me for once.

"The trouble with her is that she lacks the power of conversation but not the power of speech." - George Bernard Shaw

Hello Wall..

I can list all of my accomplishments on a post-it note (the small ones used to tab pages). The things I'm supposed to be thankful for in my life could take up the pages of War and Peace. The optimistic babble gives me nightmares... it's just not realistic. I'm tired of being thankful for things that just come naturally in life. I feel like I'm five again and my parents are telling me to eat my veggies because there are starving children in Cambodia. Why is it that all starving children love vegetables? These days a person will get the big, hairy stink eye for not being thankful for what they have. Maybe I'm wrong for wanting much, much more than what I have. The chubby, little redhead from the trailer park has come a long way..... however, I had a much grander idea of what life was like. We always do when we're young. You'll have to excuse my lack of enthusiasm with what I have. I just have a horrible sinking feeling that this is as good as it gets. I have to go... my humble pie is burning in the oven. I'll leave you with a little quote to sum up my shitty mood today.

"I don't do anything, not one single thing. I used to bite my nails, but I don't even do that any more." -Dorothy Parker