Culinary Adventures

I'll tell you what I hate.  I hate when you've just taken a bite of your hot dog -- and it's been a long, long time since you had a good hot dog, because let's face it, they're just not that appetizing when you have to saw off pieces and dip them in the ketchup and mustard and relish on the plate, but now you've got a fresh, gluten-free rice-flour bun hot out of the microwave, and you've microwaved the hot dog (well, turkey dog, but they're not bad -- really, they're not!) and lathered the bun with ketchup, mustard, and relish, and wrapped it around the hot (turkey) dog -- and you've just taken that massive bite, and chewed it just once in preparation for the savory satisfaction of complete ingestion...

...and suddenly (probably because of the mustard and relish) you have to sneeze.  You don't have time or space to chuck out the big bite somewhere before you sneeze.  You don't want to blow chunks of slightly-masticated hot dog all over the office carpet.  So you keep your mouth closed.

Now tell me, where does the sneeze go?  Your ears, although technically connected, are not a ready outlet for sneeze pressures.  Your eyes may bulge, but that pressure is still there.

You know where that sneeze goes.  If you manage to avoid choking on the hot dog, it has no place to go but right out your nose.  All fluids and particulates already inhabiting that nose have an unanticipated opportunity for freedom.  And you know some of that hot dog is along for the ride, because you can feel the little straggly bits of relish along the sinuses leading from the mouth to the nose.  And you can see a few bits of dark green in the other pretty colors that finally made it to the office carpet, after all.

I just hate that.  But it really was nice to enjoy a good hot dog again, after all the cleanup.

Some Mornings Are Like That

I eat grits in the morning. They're not my favorite breakfast -- but I can't eat my favorite breakfast, shredded wheat, because I'm intolerant of gluten. So, no oats, no wheat, no rye, no barley, no malted anything... lots of no's.
Anyway, this morning, I decided to try something different. Instead of adding peanut butter and brown sugar to make my grits taste like something other than stale corn, I added butter and cheese.
I like butter; I like cheese. I thought, what could go wrong? I shouldn't have even thought it; I jinxed my breakfast.
You know what happens when you use hot water to help get the cheese off the metal cheese grater? The cheese runs. It gets sticky, and creates a greasy film that bonds to the metal. Add melted butter; does it get better? Not likely.
Picture that in a drinking cup, swirling around with stale corn. The clumps of sticky cheese grease cling to the spoon, and the cup, and your mouth, if you're silly enough to try eating it. I was.
Now what, I thought. Dump a cup of semi-liquid glop into the trash? They don't pick up 'til next Wednesday; what will it smell like by then? Pour it down the sink? I can hear the plumber, weeks from now: "You won't BELIEVE what I found blocking your drain; that'll be $200."
I don't dare put in writing what I finally did with it; there's a remote chance my wife will read this.