Rule number 1: I am not allowed in buffets
Just like that. No ambiguity, no get-out clause, no room for negotiation. The reason being that I have not as yet acquired the faculty of self-control, and have proven time and time again that I am fully capable of eating myself to the point of sickness. So about ten years ago I established this rule for myself as a means of self-protection, and have managed to adhere to it pretty successfully.
Until this afternoon that is.
I was speaking to Inihtar yesterday when she mentioned she would be going to Flushing this afternoon to engage in a spot of investigative reporting. "Wait a minute," I interrupted, stumbling upon an idea in a flash of synaptic brilliance. "Does that mean you'll be passing by the Jackson Diner?"
"Yes, sort of..." she admitted.
"Fancy going there for lunch??!" I asked. "I've heard so much about it from Caveboy and Ximmix, I've wanted to try it for ages."
And that is how we came to find ourselves, this afternoon, faced with an enormous lunchtime buffet. And I knew, even as my eyes grew saucer-shaped at the sight of all the food, that it was sinful. That I shouldn't be doing this. But how often do I get to dabble in authentic Indian fast-food? Almost never. So my traitorous resolve wavered momentarily and then fizzled out completely without delay.
Eating a buffet, for lack of a better metaphor, is like eating an elephant - you have to tackle it bit by bit. Problem is, by the time you're done, you really do feel like you've eaten an elephant. I can't see why the concept of a buffet would have been invented at all, other than to perpetuate human suffering.
The main thrust of our conversation:
"Do you think I should get another serving, or would that be just too greedy?"
"I'll get one if you get one."
"Oh okay then. You're on."
So now here I am, safely ensconced back at home, and feeling more than slightly uncomfortable and regretful. In such situ's, there's naught to be done but to snuggle into a nap and hope that you feel totally fine by the time you wake up again.
Rule number 2: Don't break Rule number 1
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7 comments:
Hey, I had to come back and play SQUASH!! Boy was that a painful experience!!
Let's not go back there anytime soon, okay? :)
~FMP
And just where is this diner to end all diners? I must know!
that is why I NEVER go to jackson diner.
Yeah, I don't reckon I'll find myself there anytime soon either. It's like a vortex sucking you in.
Time to find a new haunt :)
As things go the Sandwich Shoppe in Greenwich Village isn't too bad :)
~FMP
Where have you disappeared to ol' Ficali?
Blogworld isn't the same without you...
M - D'oh! Of course. So I should have known from then how addictive it is! :)
~FMP
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