The intellectual equivalent of a ham sandwich.

Posts tagged ‘food’

Eat Like a One Year Old

I’ve got an idea for a restaurant which would fail miserably … but oh what fun in the one month it’d be open.

The idea is customers eat like one year olds.

You walk in, the host or hostess shows you to your seat and then around comes your waiter or waitress. This is where the fun begins. As a customer you don’t need to say a WORD. Nothing. You can, if you want, you can say just one word over and over while looking at any and everything. Or you can just make noises. Or be silent. Whatever.

You are the 1 year old customer, and it’s up to you.

Over the course of the next however long you want you will sample, spit out, make weird faces, make noises, look with disgust and horror at your waiter/waitress when they guess wrong at what you want.

It’ll be grand.

The waiter/waitress will run to/from the kitchen, over and over, bringing you small samples of a really weird variety of foods, and you’ll happily eat four bites and then NO, I DO NOT WANT … ok, one more bite WAIT NO. I DO NOT WANT.

Be as difficult and crazy as you want as you eat a seventeen course meal, where each course is comprised of just a few bites.

Tip will be automatically included in your bill, because the wait staff deserve it.

Attn: Ellen (6/28/17)



Back (apologies for my handwriting!)



The text of the postcard is

Dear Ellen,

Over the course of my life I have discovered a lot of hairs in my food … And yet … Each time I react the same: shock, horror, feelings of betrayal, maybe a quick “AHH!!!”

Please advise.


Why am I doing this?

Rich Baby

The other day I met what has to be one of the richest women ever. She was talking to her baby about this food she’d just bought for her baby. Designer label food! Gerbers is apparently not good enough for them, noooo. They have something made by a fancy label. But, I have to admit, with how adamantly she was talking about it, I’m really curious what this “Gucci Goo” tastes like.

He’ll also eat crushed up diamonds.

Well Done, Ham Industry

I’ve never been a fan of ham. Some foods that I disliked as a child I enjoy now, like broccoli, lettuce, salad, tomatoes, etc. But ham has always been on my no thanks list.

And YET, even knowing that I don’t enjoy it, I still see the names of ham products at the grocery store and can’t help but think, mmm, that sounds good.

  • Honey Baked Ham
    • Are you kidding me? That sounds amazing!
  • Black Forest Ham
    • Is Robin Hood himself delivering this ham to me?, because that’s what the title implies in my mind.
  • Mystical Ham Boat
    • I just made this up, but you’d buy it, wouldn’t you?
  • In French the word ham is ‘jambon’
    • Jambon! Jam on! It’s like Michael Jackson himself couldn’t help but randomly say ‘ham!’ while singing (perhaps he messed up the pronunciation).

I tip my hat to you, ham industry. I can’t wait to see what you come up with next.

And let’s not forget about this walking advertisement.

Home Again!

The wife and I are back from our honeymoon in India! Since we have returned we have eaten …

  • Burgers for dinner
  • Cereal and doughnuts for breakfast
  • Taco Bell/Pizza Hut for lunch
  • Dinner tonight will be ice cream and cheese/sausage/crackers
photo 3

This, this is a picture of the sweet sight of America.



Drastic Measures

He sat down and stared at the behemoth in front of him. This … was to be his lunch. He already knew he would be eating until he felt awful but he picked up his fork and dug in anyway.

This was his favorite and least favorite (during astute post-meal analysis) restaurant in the world.

The amount of dollars spent here would be upsetting, shocking, pain-inducing and gut wrenching … Unless compared to the amount of calories consumed here. And then the dollars would be a mere drop in the bucket.

Before he knew it his plate was half empty, his appetite was gone, and yet the fork continued to move.

Slice, slice, bite. Slice, slice, bite. The rhythmic motions perfected like an Olympic level athlete’s perfect form.

He sat back, finally, stomach so full it almost hurt to exhale. Taking deep breaths because the effort had exhausted him physically and somehow, against all logic, emotionally.

The plate was conquered. The dish vanquished. Appetite demolished. Sense of self-hatred sky rocketing. The belly was the new ruler of the land and, oh, she was not pleased.

He got up, asked to see the chef, the manager, and his waitress. He took a large sip of his drink and proceeded to spit it out, as though his mouth was a whale’s blowhole, onto each of the three people integral in this all too large consumption fest.

Finally, he thought, I can actually stick to my diet now.


If I Was Missing a Cat …

Missing Cat Poster

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