No Taste

Published 27.1.05 by Porkchop | E-mail this post

My co-workers are obviously slightly deranged if they think I should live in California and be Whatever It Is That People In California are, which they are obviously convinced is strange.

Now, they are QUITE SURE that I am from another planet entirely. Playing Norah Jones in my office was pushing their culture limit. After listening to her, THREE TIMES, I switched to Rigoletto. You. Should. Hear. The. Screams. Of. Protest.

I tried to quell their fears by saying it was expanding their memory and such, but, they would not hear of it. As they have made quite apparent, culture is the stuff that grows on old cheese.

I think, I will invest in Chris BottI and keep it at that.

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This odd narrative is my life. I ended up in Pittsburgh, of all places--from the beach. I have no hobbies, other than cooking excessively and eating microwave popcorn. I enjoy shopping, the Food network, hiding the remote so the Food network cannot be turned off, find ethnic food stores and restaurants and reading voraciously. My life is decidedly pedestrian.

I worked in the car business where I was required to be ruthless and soul-less wench, which is when I started this project. Since then, I've kept it up because secretly, I've always wanted to join the military. Every male in my mother's family has joined and I quietly entertain thoughts of joining. I haven't yet and don't know if I ever will, but sending the troops cookies keeps me sane. it makes me think I still have a shred of human kindness left in my withering soul. it's a small way for me to salute the men and women who are brave enough to fight for freedom. And makes me feel like I'm contributing toward troop morale--even if I'm not. So if you want to help, send me addresses of troops you know stationed overseas. you may also contribute toward the cost of chocolate chips, but don't feel obligated, that link is here only by request.

No Taste

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