Friday, December 21, 2007

Let them eat salad!

I have a new understanding of vegetarianism. I tried to get lunch meat. No, I did get lunch meat. According to the label, this is Pastrami. The green shade around the edges had me a little bit concerned, but they spice everything here with things I can't pronounce much less recognize, so I didn't really care what color the pastrami spices were, until I touched it.

Friends, that glare is not the healthy reflection of fresh, moist meat. That glare is a solid layer of slime covering said lunch meat. I tried to take a piece and wash it off, but it just seems wrong. It was SO SLIMY. Avery, you'll be proud to know that the whole damn thing is in the rubbish, even though I'm sure the layer of muck is normal, it's not my style. I was in the grocery again this evening. And for some reason, I had no desire to replace it, even with the imported Butterball turkey slices. I'm sure they're not slimy, and well well preserved in the good American tradition of anti-slime chemicals. But after the last surprise, salad sounds nice.

Now this little can of wonderful was the first thing I guzzled down at the Dubai airport, and what a fabulous little welcome my tongue received. Who wants a Coke when you can have a Bandung?! While the name sorta reminds me of large animal feces, it's actually a "rose syrup milk drink. Delicious chilled. Shake well." And yes, (I know you're wondering) it's pink on the inside too, as any self-respecting ambrosia should be.

In the last few weeks I've become addicted to the Gulf News. Dad, I know this makes you proud, and yes, I've even started clipping. I swore I would never be a chronic clipper. But I also never expected to find articles about the price of trendy sacrificial sheep during the Eid holidays. Yes, really. If you want to waste some MORE time, click on the image. It should blow up big enough to read. The little tidbit to the right..."Keeping slaughter legal" is not about banning animal sacrifice. It's about making sure the QUALITY of the animal getting knocked off, is right where it should me. So, if you're a sheep, better to be a good for nothing rebel sheep, the black sheep in the family, if you will. 'Cause if you're a goody-goody sheep with a 4.0 and nice manners and bows in your hair, you're basically screwed.


Anonymous said...

This is one big comment for the last couple of posts because i needed to catch up. i am loving your blog. its kicking ass and your wonderful writing of course makes me want to read it. i can't believe people were smoking in the office! I would freak out. Thats tough. That meat looked nasty, I would of thrown it out too and its sooo lovely to see a photo of Deger! I miss that face! Send him my love. It's annie

shelley said...

Oh my god... I laughed out loud with the Pastrami story.

Bandung is actually an island in Indonesia - I guess the tropicalness and exotic bla bla reflects in the rose syrup milk? (I had never thought of how Bandung sounds like giant poop though, I LOVE IT!)