On The Meat Man

I'm in the supermarket -

Me: I need to know which of these types of steaks are better for grilling. Y'know, the kind where people won't lose a tooth when trying to chew it or maybe mistake it for an old shoe.

Meat Guy: Well this and this are what you are looking for really. (points at 2 types) You want to stay away from these though, 'cause they are tougher. (points at others) I'd say your best bet price and cut would be this. (grabs a pack) You said this is for grilling, right?

Me: Yep.

Meat Guy: Oh? Trying to impress someone?

Me: Nope, just cooking at home.

Meat Guy: Awww sweet. You're home from college?

Me: No. I'm 34. Just cooking at home.

Meat Guy: (with the most annoyed look on his face - like I'm a pregnant teenager asking him where to find the condom isle) You're 34 and you have to ask what kind of meat to buy? (He then leaves disappears into the back "meat room" as I stand there with a package of meat and what's left of my dignity)

On Gringos and Moles

Today was a bonus day, like a Cracker Jack double Saturday prize because of the 3 day weekend. Sticky sweet, but you know it’ll catch up to you later. We have done quite a bit with the weekend as far as house projects go, and today was a little bit more laid back. After the day’s events, we decided to grab a bite at a little place that we’ve never been to. The floor plan of the place makes it a claustrophobic’s nightmare, so I was of course thrilled. Even better, the acoustics are awful – making it so you can’t hear the person you are sitting with while the 6 year old Damien child across the place is screaming at just the right pitch to both annoy you AND call wild dogs. Here’s a demo:
So, it was crowded and people were loud. Ok, we can deal. Then the little girl at the table directly next to us opened her purse and got out her daily dose of birth control and palmed it discreetly before taking it with a swig of her Corona Light. Seriously, she looked 12, and it is a BYOB, so you never know.

The highlight of my evening was while looking over the menu, I had JUST decided on what I was going to order when Lisa half closed the cover to her menu and leaned over to me with a terrified look on her face. She then asked “Um, what do they mean when they say “Mole Pork”?” Much giggle then ensued on my part because not only had I decided to order the Mole Pork Enchiladas, but by the look on her face, she had kinetically transferred the image she was holding to my brain as well with her pronunciation being Mole (mōl) when the actual word is Mole (mo-lay) for the type of sauce used in the dish. This then lead to the obvious giggle fest about Mole, Moles, Mole-Moles and al types of Moles. Observe the pictorial wonder of our minds:



MmmHmmm. No good could come of this. She had firmly planted an image of a cute little furry mole wrapped in a corn tortilla and dripping in a yummy sauce. The entire dinner, I was thinking “It’s going to bite me back”. It didn’t, but I now feel an urge to tunnel in my own backyard. Odd. Crap. Lisa is now singing The Kaiser Chiefs’ song “Ruby” with “Mole” instead. That’s going to be in my head ALL FUCKING NIGHT. So, I’ll share the misery with you. Don't Forget To Sing Mo-Lay!