It Was The Fried Rice What Done It

I've been eating at the same Chinese place (Zen Palate) quite often lately. When I say "quite often lately" I guess what I really mean is that when I call in a to-go order they ask for my phone number, then stop me at the third digit and say "Ohhhh, Mistah Jimmy!" I had no idea that was a big deal, and I like making friends in the food-service industry.

I just didn't realize I had a problem.

Our friend Bobby Pilkington's mom never realized she was an alcoholic until a neighbor pointed out that she drank a 24 pack of Miller High Life between 10AM and 5PM every day, which put her solidly within AA's "alcoholic" bracket. Not only did she not realize her alcoholic status, she was doing just fine and was, by all accounts, a great Mom (if a bit wobbly on her feet) until she got that bit of unwelcome news. Uncle Robert said if she wanted to drink Miller High Life while she did the ironing, he didn't see any reason to aggravate her about it and everybody ought to have just left her alone.

I guess he was right, because her neighbor staged an intervention that day and you know what happened?

She up and died.

Uncle Robert says she was so embarassed to find out she was an alcoholic; she just got in bed one night and never got back out - all because some jackleg neighbor didn't have the common decency to stay out of her trashcan.

Well, we have something in common because I didn't realize my Chinese habit was out of hand either until today, just before lunch, my office neighbor said "HEYYY, Chinese again today Jimmy? You know fried rice is terrible for you. I bet the servers think you're a stalker!"

So, even though I wanted a tuna roll and some wonton soup, at lunchtime I found myself guiltily jogging past Zen Palate to a sandwich place thats terrible; just so the people at Zen Palate don't think I'm weird and feel sorry for me.

Of course, I had to walk past the windows of the Chinese place to get a sandwich. All the servers standing in a group by the hostess stand waiting on the lunch crowd waved when they saw me, but I just scurried by staring straight at the ground.

So, on top of having to eat a crummy ham sandwich for lunch I've probably hurt their feelings, but the worst part is: now I'm probably going to die.