Hope everyone is having a wonderful day out in the real world. Out there it's Tuesday, but in here it's Friday night... Instead of going out after work, it was soooo slow that I took off a couple hours early and came straight home to catch a little extra sleep. There is a little buffoonery on tap for the next couple of days as my sister Cyndi, fresh off the boat from St. Croix will be arriving at 10am. Word around the campfire is that her husband, my other brother David, is already here.
The plan, after picking her up at the airport, is to head to the Fireside Lounge and have drinks with my gal Krista for an hour or two, and then maybe head out to Green Valley and burn up about five of these $25 free table-game bet coupons, and maybe add a few bucks to our bankroll. Don't know what else we'll do, except maybe go out to dinner at a nice place, probably knock something else off of the list.
Speaking of dinner, last night at work, I had an interesting experience. I hadn't eaten anything all day--the head cold kills the taste buds, so nothing sounds good except for maybe Tabasco sauce, so by the time my 11pm break rolled around, my stomach was rumbling, telling me it was time to eat something. I went back to the dining room, hoping to find something appetizing. There was a salad bar. Feh... Some sort of bean soup, (Not an option unless I'm dealing dice and can blame the gas on the old farts at the table), fish sticks, chili, mashed potatoes, meatloaf, and hot dogs.
But at the end of the buffet was a tray full of warm biscuits, and sitting next to what looked to be a fresh pan of white gravy. Oh hell yeah, I loves me some biscuits and country gravy, so I took two, split them open on a plate still hot from the dishwasher, and ladled on three generous scoops of gravy. Even though my sense of smell was somewhat crippled, I was looking forward to a decent meal. I grabbed a glass of apple juice, and joined my buddy Todd--who is also from Nashville--at the table. Once he saw that I had fresh biscuits and gravy, he was jealous--he wanted some too, and began to get up to fetch his own plate.
I took a forkful with a big dollup of gravy on top and shoved it in my mouth.
Immediately, I knew something wasn't quite right.
I looked at Todd and said Oh man...
He responded with, That's just heaven, ain't it?
I spit it back out on the plate and started hopping around and shrieking like a kid forced to eat brussel sprouts for the first time. I grabbed the apple juice and started guzzling.
What's the matter dude? Too much pepper???
That was no country gravy, it was tartar sauce for the fish sticks! Do you have any idea how effin' gross that sensation is, especially when you're expecting sausage gravy? So disgusting... Words can't even begin to describe it.
Everybody at the table took a moment to process that information, and then started laughing their asses off, including me, and it took several minutes before we could stop giggling and wipe the tears away. I went on a kitchen safari looking for something to make the taste go away, and immediately discovered that a banana is the opposite of tartar sauce, so it did the trick. Everything else on the plate went in the garbage can.
It was so gross, but everyone got a good laugh at my expense, so it wasn't a total waste.
Afterwards, Todd said it best in his Tennessee accent--Man, after that, you just ain't gonna be right for the rest of the night...
He was correct. It was all downhill from there, so I asked the boss to cut me out early.
I finally got that foul taste out of my mouth and now that I'm home, I'm no longer burping mayonaise and pickles. In a few hours I'll be eating breakfast at the Peppermill. Pretty sure I'm not gonna have the Chicken Fried Steak this time around... Or the fish and chips.
Mikey
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