The Chinese Place That Always Makes Me Sick

There’s a Chinese Place right around the corner from my apartment, every time I order from them the food ends up making my tummy somewhat icky. Yet every time I have too much to do or just don’t have the patience to whip up something great in my kitchen. Or I’m really poor, as is the case now. I order from them. It’s a strange little habit. Actually as I write this post, I’m waiting for my lunch delivery, wonton soup and shrimp dumplings.

Mind you I know that and I’ve analyzed this before. There is about a thirty percent chance the food will make me feel not-so-good. So it’s rolling the dice. I mean, my kitchen is almost ready. I just have to clean it.

Most of my friends know me to be a really good cook and a tosser of really good cocktail cotillons. So it’s a wonder that I keep on going back to the same really bad Chinese Place, I mean it doesn’t even have a real name.

I’m likely to ask a server at a restaurant if they have loose leaf tea or bag tea. I prefer loose leaf and really don’t like bag. So I know what I’m getting, I’m always informed. Often when I go out with friends, they’ll order what I’ve ordered because I have this strange six sense; regarding what is truly amazing on a menu. Okay maybe I’m being a bit delusional at this point. Yet I’m making a point as I wait for the delivery person to arrive. I know what I’m getting myself into. It’s not even like the Chinese food is really good. It’s sort of, to not-that-good, good. Yet it fills a strange void I have. A void I’ve yet to identify.

I also think hook ups are starting to be like this Chinese Food place for me. I don’t know why I do them. I know I won’t like the boy. Yet I still manage to make a fool out of myself and get my heart broken. Or sleep with yet another actor-model-dancer that I have no desire to call (because I’d be yet again repeating my past) who has the intelligence of a gnat. Or I’ll sleep with a guy that I really really like and he won’t call me because I’ve blurt out odd personal things that I shouldn’t; like: “I’d like to see you again”.

So, maybe if I master the art of not ordering Chinese food from this one restaurant anymore, maybe then I’ll finally get the boyfriend I’ve always wanted. Yes. That's the plan, that’s how it works.

Comments

[isefire]

skye, dude,

i know your post is seemingly a bit ironic, tongue in cheek; but, there's obviously genuine complaint in it too--or at least frustration.

cool. that's human. but, i'm still going to dare to ask you: at the end of the day do you really have anything to complain about?

you get a lot of dates.
you have no problem finding sex. occasionally disappointment follows?
so what.
i'll repeat: you get a lot of dates and seem to have no problem finding sex.

that's what's known in the trade as being FORTUNATE.

to have the combo of nature's and nurture's gifts that one must--i.e., a combination of age, appearance, intelligence, self-confidence, a modicum of income, and location--in order to have so many even *disappointing* dates and hookups is, quite frankly, A F***ING LUXURY.

I don't get a lot of dates and don't have much sex. that's called being UNFORTUNATE, at least from a certain point of view, espcially since I live in NYC, too.

But consider this: through politics i know a guy who is gay, physically handicapped, middle-aged (heaven forbid), and a midget. i'm not shitting you. okay, he's not ALSO a post-op transsexual black women, but otherwise he's pretty much got the entire panoply of "unfortunate" minority demographics covered. i could be wrong, but my guess is he'd tell you (and probably me) to be happy with what you've got. and you've had, got, and most likely will have "a lot."

[Woody]

I thought of that old joke, you know, this guy goes to a psychiatrist and says, "Doc, uh, my brother's crazy. He thinks he's a chicken." And, uh, the doctor says, "Well, why don't you turn him in?" And the guy says, "I would, but I need the eggs."

Well, I guess that's pretty much how how I feel about "dates". You know, they're totally irrational and crazy and absurd and ... but, uh, I guess we keep having them because, uh, most of us need the eggs.

[Double M]

Interesting anology - only bad Chinese Food don't give you orgasms - that's guareenteed even with a an actor/model/temp/theatre person
(even the bad ones)

[Genny]

icky! chianease food is preety bad sometimes... :Ob