I would like to take a few minutes to provide a public service to those of you who, like me, find yourselves waking up at bitch o'clock, going in to work, working until fuckthirty, going home, falling into bed and then repeating the process over and over until you forget what day it is.
The first cherished habit to fall victim to this schedule is that of sitting down to an actual meal. Let's face it, a handful of Skittles and three diet Cherry Cokes may get you through, but you will pay in the long run. My personal coping mechanism is this: eating cold soup directly from the tin with a plastic spoon. The beauty of this particular fare is that it leaves no dirty dishes covered with the tiny crumbs of congealed grease that say "This soup was never heated" (as opposed to the long smears of grease on a bowl that say "This soup was heated, eaten and the dishes thrown into the sink a week ago Thursday").
My personal favorite is Progresso's Southwestern-Style chicken. The roasted chicken has that Liquid Smoke flavor that, if you close the one eye that you're not keeping on your work, you can almost believe was hot not very long ago. The rice acts as a homogenizing agent, keeping the grease well mixed in the soup so that it doesn't end up coating your spoon after the second bite making you lose your appetite after the third bite.
The the best part? The slightly spicy flavor is a fabulous complement to the bitter taste of the self-recrimination that comes of neglecting your personal life.
Bon apetit!
Wednesday, February 25, 2004
Desperation Food Critic
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