Either all white people look the same, or the owner at our local Chinese restaurant doesn't realize we come in at least once a week for their spicy tofu and basil dish.
On every visit, she explains, "We also have breakfast on Saturday and Sunday and free mimosas."
Their breakfast is traditional American and she always tries to lure us with free mimosas. It has gotten to the point where I bring up their weekend breakfast before she can.
"Do you serve breakfast here on weekends?" I ask.
She gets excited and gives us the spiel on the free mimosa deal.
"Can I stay as long as I want and get drunk off of the mimosas?" I asked our last time in. By the way, I hate mimosas.
"No, you don't want to do that, it'll give you a headache." She's looking out for my welfare even though she can't figure out we've been going there for dinner for a year.
I feel like it's my duty to help people break up their days. To break up the monotony of life. To take a second and put the obligation treadmill on pause with some fun human interaction.
At the grocery store I get three cans of anchovies and plain yogurt.
"Excuse me, is this a balanced, nutritious meal?" I ask the clerk with a look of sincerity on my face. At times they reply that I should be okay. Other times I have been advised not to eat the items together since I may get sick. Every once in a while they laugh and say, "I remember you."
I drink half of a bottle of tea and put my groceries on the conveyer belt. I act stunned that I picked out a bottle of tea that was already opened and ask if it can be replaced. When all is confessed I either get a dirty look or we share a laugh.
Earlier today there was a three-quarter-page book review of Confessions of a Teenage Jesus Jerk in the SF Weekly with a photo of me at the bottom. I ask random people in the street while pointing at the photo with a sense of urgency, "Have you seen this man?" I ask like I'm looking for my lost dog.
My girlfriend and I walked through a crowd of teenagers outside of an all-ages nightclub. We had just been to a party and were dressed business casual. As we walked through the crowd of teens, I let go of the loudest fart I could muster. I almost got a hernia from pushing it out. I squeezed my girlfriend's hand (she knows the drill) and she tried not to giggle as we didn't break stride.
"I swear, it wasn't me," a guy pleaded with two pretty girls he was trying to pick up on.
Who would have ever guessed two 30-somethings all dressed up would ever let one rip that loud?
They'll never know. I may have saved the human race from an unwanted pregnancy.
Who knows, maybe I shouldn't pretend that I'm doing humanity such a great favor by trying to push pause on the treadmill of life. It's probably more my desperation to keep things interesting in my existence.
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And now, we're starting a new segment that will only happen this Thursday called:
Some of the books I love that changed my life almost as much as Confessions of a Teenage Jesus Jerk.
Journey to the End of the Night by Louis Ferdinand Celine
Hunger by Knut Hamsun
House of Leaves by Mark Z. Danielewski
The Sandman series by Neil Gaiman
On the Road by Jack Kerouac
The Preacher series by Garth Ennis
Pimp by Iceberg Slim
Platform by Michel Houellebecq (or anything from my French brother)
Letters from the Earth by Mark Twain
Ask the Dust by John Fante
Aaron Cometbus and his spectacular 'zines.
Autobiography of a Brown Buffalo by Oscar Zeta Acosta