I made two recent observations, not sure if they are
hysterical, really terrible or I am truly my mother’s daughter.
To begin I need to tell a
background story. As an American I am quite fond of wing night. For those of
you reading outside of the US, wing night in America is as much of a bar
tradition as watching the game together. On certain nights or on game days they
offer discounted fried chicken wings swimming in the sauce of your choice with
a side of celery, carrots, and bleu cheese dressing. There are also beer
specials, what better way to get your weeks calories in? I prefer the flaming
hot ones, sometimes for the challenge, sometimes to prove to my spice
lightweight friends that I can.
I believe it goes without saying
that there is no neat way to eat these. You are guaranteed to have sauce
running all over your hands by the second wing.
And don’t have any cuts on your fingers; it hurts like hell getting wing
sauce in them. The waitresses will even bring out baby wipes or a plethora of
napkins for cleanup. Despite the wet-naps you are guaranteed to find wing sauce on your hairline and have sticky hands until you get a proper shower. But I
still like to go, it’s good craic.
As I
got older I grew to detest getting my hands dirty. It was like a self-inflicted
pet peeve. I wanted to have wing night so bad, but the mental stress could only
be quelled by a beer or three.
Here is an image of typical wing night. On this particular
occasion I got a gift card from purchasing phone insurance and almost got off
with free wings. The coupon was 50% off, the special that night was 25%. Yes,
the waitress gave us 75%, for the win.
My
mother hates to get her hands dirty from food. I used to laugh when she ate pizza
with a fork and a knife and now I find myself doing the same thing. Now here is
the kicker to the story: The Chinese do not like having dirty hands either. If
you go to a pizza place they will give you a plastic glove to eat it with. Where
have these been all my life? I think I am going to stockpile on plastic gloves
and never suffer through another wing night again.
This afternoon one of the ladies in my office ordered in chicken. I love the idea of being able to order an entire rotisserie chicken for delivery. They even supplied gloves. Here is a picture of my afternoon snack.
The second
one is that I have been molded to have good table manners. To the point where
when I see someone holding a fork or knife incorrectly it is like looking at
the sun during an eclipse. Actually I lied, when I see a boy I like holding
silverware incorrectly they immediately get written off. In my mind it makes perfect sense. What if I
marry you and have to watch those god awful table manners my whole life? Fuck
no.The reason I bring this one up is in China we use
chopsticks. How will I know? Don’t bother with anyone. I can’t get involved
with someone who turns out to be incapable of holding a fork.
There are more fish in the sea, and across the ocean for that matter. I am not sure if I am being too picky or just outright shallow and judgmental.
Either way this has been a problem of mine for a long time. I think since high school I have paid specific attention to table manners and if they didn't check out, well too bad for you. My mother actually told me a hilarious story, because the problem affects more than just me. My little brother had his date over for dinner before homecoming one year. Now if I were the girl in this story I would have slapped him and left. Dinner was served and my brother looks and her and goes "You eat like a caveman!! Don't you know how to hold a fork?" Oh little brother, there are things you don't say aloud, or on a date for that matter.
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