Words and Whirlwinds

I'm pleased to announce the beginning of my new blog, Words and Whirlwinds, a site basically devoted to book reviews and other nerdy things.

http://wordsandwhirlwinds.blogspot.com

Tell all your friends.

CHINESE BUFFET.

Disclaimer:
Okay, so here's the deal. This story may not have many pictures. But I will describe things very vividly in an attempt to persuade your imagination to play along.


So, Robbie loves Chinese food. Which is weird because generally Robbie doesn't like anything but greasy American food. But recently, he's trying new things, branching out.

When I suggested Chinese food for dinner one evening when we first started dating he proceeded to tell me how his family went to a Chinese buffet for lunch every Sunday back in Alabama, but he would only eat the things that looked like chicken nuggets. I have since learned that he is referring to sweet and sour chicken, sans sweet and sour sauce.

Fast forward. Now he loves Chinese food more than me. It's very odd. Some of you know I have a weird issue with meat. Weird meat creeps me out. Don't ask me what I define as "weird meat." I eat hot dogs yet freak out over a tiny piece of fat on a piece of white-meat chicken. I think it has something to do with uniformity in texture possibly?

We occasionally eat Chinese food although I've started to avoid it all costs since it upsets my stomach more now that I'm dealing with some awful acid reflux issues. I suggested we eat the buffet close to where I work for lunch yesterday because I know he loves it and well, I get tired of eating the same bagel at Panera everyday.

I made a mental journal based on my observations while we were at the Chinese Buffet, and I'd like to share my thoughts with you now.

First, I love Cream Cheese Wontons. They are AMAZING. Out of this world amazing, yet awful for you. I usually eat like 10 of them. I only had 2 this time. It was hard. But I was saving room for lo-mein and ice cream.

As I was searching for chicken lo-mein, I passed something that looked rather out-of-the-ordinary. Mashed potatoes and gravy. I literally stopped and stared and thought WHO WOULD COME TO A CHINESE BUFFET FOR MASHED POTATOES AND GRAVY? Friendz, go to Cracker Barrell.

I located my coveted lo-mein and chowed down. Then it was time for my favorite buffet item: ICE CREAM.

Walked over to the machine. OUT OF ORDER.

ARE YOU KIDDING ME? So, I pouted for a minute and stared at the other deserts. I saw banana pudding and got really excited. I wondered if it was reserved for the people who ate mashed potatoes and gravy for lunch but decided I could probably have some.

I sat down and quickly realized that apparently, to the Chinese Buffet Top-Chefs, the recipe for banana pudding goes something like this:

Banana-flavored pudding
Gross, nasty wafers

This further ruined my life. Obviously. Banana pudding is like sacred. Holy. I don't know, you don't eff with it like that. I was kinda offended. So then I looked at Robbie rather sheepishly and said "I need pictures for my blog so I can post about this trauma. Helpz?"

Robbie proceeded to creep around the buffet and try to take picures of things when no one was looking. We were unsuccessful. No pictures. Sad, I know.

However, I did get one blurry shot at the table of the banana pudding (minus bananas) and the random seed I found in it.



DEAR CHINESE BUFFET TOP-CHEFS,

MAYBE YOU SHOULD WORK ON NOT PUTTING A WEIRD SEED IN MY BANANA PUDDING AND WORK ON GETTING SOME BANANAS. JUST A THOUGHT.

THANKS,
AMANDA

Building Rome: Lesson One

Okay, before you read this at all, you should know this is ridiculous and simply comes from too much mental time on my hands to ponder such a random thing.

Sort of.

So I'm thinking, people say ridiculous things. It bugs me. Phrases. Things like, "Give 110%." That doesn't make sense. It is literally impossible to do better than you are physically able. It's like saying, see this gasoline. I'm going to give you 10 gallons, and you turn it into 11. Got that? Right. Impossible.

Rather than play dot-to-dot with all the annoying phrases that make no sense, I should focus on one that really just started bugging me.

"Rome wasn't built in a day."

Ok, so to just go over the facts, and to help you see my line of thinking, I know Rome was, actually, not built in a day. That is to say that the entirety of Rome was not built in a day, but then again, parts of it were, so there's already a discrepancy. This phrase is commonly used to help someone out with being patient while they are waiting to get something done or to see something accomplished. That got me to thinking. Of course, while the city wasn't built in a day, it certainly, most definitely, could have been built in a day, providing all the right equipment and a virtually limitless supply of slave labour (much of which they actually had).

My point is, the whole point of learning history (says just about every history person you will come across) is to learn from the mistakes of the past or to learn how to do things better than before. So what I'm saying is, if Rome wasn't built in a day, who cares? That in no way should affect my wanting to succeed at something in any sort of way. I want to do it better than Rome. Isn't that necessary?

Otherwise it seems to me that we're just meddling in thousands of years of historical excuses.

Conversations with Random People (Part One)

Setting: Thursday afternoon, Metanoia parking lot. Leaving work in a huge hurry with my hands full of promotional materials for an event I was running late for.

Random Guy: Hey, heyyy!

Me: Hi, how are you doing today?

Random Guy: Good, good. I know you, I know you, you're from N.A. right?

Me: N.A.? You mean Metanoia?

Random Guy: No, N.A. Narcotics Anonymous.

Me: Yeah, I don't go to that.

Random Guy: Oh, there's a girl in Narcotics Anonymous with the same car as you and I thought you were here. Well, it was nice to meet you, anyway.

Me: Yep.

90 Minutes in Heaven and Combos

Last night I was driving back from Asheville where I had an interview. I had recently eaten with my cousins and aunt and uncle there but wanted some comfort road food. I was struck with an uncontainable urge to have Combos. Yes, those little pizzas balled up and stuffed inside pretzels. Amazing, to be sure. Anyhow, I stop at a rest stop just over the SC border (IN SC), and to my dismay, the choices at the vending machines range from Tom's brand Pork Rinds to just about every style Honey Bun one can imagine.

I found this highly unfortunate.

Luckily, a few miles later, I stopped off at a gas station to pick up some Combos. Yes, they were overpriced. I think I paid nearly three dollars in the end, which, to say the least, made the eating of those treats all the more enjoyable. When I was in line, I saw a bookshelf next to the register containing Don Piper's "90 Minutes in Heaven," which by the way, I find a touch blasphemous in general, but I had to chuckle to myself, because, really, when you can go in a store, get a bag of combos, a footlong chili dog, a slushee and cigarettes AND come out with "Christian" literature, what can you do besides laugh? Nothing. The end.

But not really, because, in an effort to go against everything I know about organizing a communicative piece of writing, I'm going to backtrack to my interview.

It was with a nonprofit called Riverlink, and as the name implies, they work with, YES, the river. Specifically, river conservation. Anyway, I'm in the interview, and they start talking about the guy who isn't there right now. His title: Riverkeeper. Whoa. Suddenly bass starts pumping in my head, I'm seeing a steroid-pumped thirty year-old in too-tight trousers come pouncing out from behind a curtain carrying an enormous fake gold belt that obviously he cannot ACTUALLY put on. He grabs the mic from the announcer, who he then hammer-punches over the head, and yells in a gutteral growl, "The Riverkeeper's back, baby, and I'm coming for blood."

I can only hope the actual Riverkeeper is not as intimidating as he is in my head.

Red Owl Designs Giveaway

Dear friends who like to shop on Etsy,

Check out Red Owl Designs and the giveaway Sara is hosting on her blog! I want to win!

I am your personal trainer.

Alright. So, I know after National Donut Day at Krispy Kreme and the free root beer floats Sonic gave away last week, we're all looking to lose a little weight. I thought I'd help everyone out by detailing my workout this afternoon. Give you a little taste of working-out Amanda-style.

First, come home from work and proceed to eat four of Abigail's chocolate-chip meringue cookies after she offers you one.

Second, whine profusely while changing into your gross workout clothes that make you look extra awesome and as un-athletic as possible. (Probably because your work-out pants are really pajama pants from Target).

(Sorry, no picture. I will not embarrass myself on my own blog)

Third, walk in the rain to the work-out room at your apartment complex. Pass a weird emo kid wearing a backpack on the way there and wonder if he's secretly plotting to come after you once you're all alone in the work-out room. Decide it's worth the risk and get on the treadmill anyway.

I don't have a picture of the emo kid, so we'll throw in a picture of Ryan, instead.

Turn on Kathy Griffin's Life on the D-List on Bravo and thank God they're not playing some stupid classic American movie. I hate when they play movies. Stick to reality shows and the West Wing re-runs, Bravo!

Next, proceed to force yourself to run through the pain because you really want to see the end of the episode... where Steve Wozniak (from Apple) plays segway polo with his nerd friends.

And then, give up before the segway polo actually begins. Walk back to your apartment.

Celebrate by devouring a mini key-lime pie, homemade by your domestic goddess of a roomate, Abigail.



Then, lastly, maybe you can go to the grocery store and buy some Nutella. And proceed to eat it by the spoonful because you've been deprived of it until 24 years of age, and well, you have a lot of catching up to do.

Subconscious Takeover

Apparently I've just been completely out of it.

Last night, I was driving back to Columbia. I ran out of Puppy Chow for Apollo in the morning, and it was late, and he was whining, and I knew he was hungry. I stop at Walmart to get some kibble for the pup. I go in, grab the bag, a coke, and go through the line. On my way out of the store, without even thinking about what i was doing, as if maybe I thought the floor was pavement or something, I spat inside Walmart. I'm not sure why. It took me a while, like a minute, to even realize that I did it. Yes, I hate that place. Yes, I would burn them all to the ground if I thought it would do any good. But being by myself with a bag of dog grub and cola, there would be no reason to just spit. I guess I was just tired, but it was weird.

Welcome to my out-of-body life.