eating + zombies = soaking wet panties

Dear ‘panties,

It’s been one year and a myriad of culinary kamikazes since I last checked your drawers. It is my great pleasure to return with a vengeance. Yes, I ate out Red Lobster.

Did you know that there is a waiting list at the ‘Lob? Well, there is, and it’s going to cost you an hour of your life and at least one conversation with some Lutherans from Illinois. The upshot here is that there is a bar serving daquiris as big as your head; using two hands and/or alternating hands is the only safe method for consuming this beverage. When your table is ready, the lobster buzzer will vibrate and flash red. Do not confuse the lobster buzzer with a telephone as certain ladies in pantsuits are wont to do. There is no one on the line, and that includes The Captain.

You will be seated under a heat lamp with a view to the elevator and several abstract architectural elements designed to fool you into thinking you are not in a giant conference center. First up, waiter Eric will relay a series of bad jokes before delivering the Lobster Pizza and Lobster Stuffed Mushrooms (aka Seaside Starters). While the pizza is by and large enjoyable (emphasis on large), the mushrooms are to be avoided at all costs. I’m not sure what’s going in there, but if I had to guess I would say lobster throw-up and tiny rubber baggies drowned in cheese.

Moving on the Signature Combinations, you will order the Ultimate Feast. It will arrive no more than five seconds after the Seaside Starters, forcing you to place the Bottomless Biscuits on the dusty ledge of your booth. The Ultimate Feast consists of Maine lobster tail, shrimp scampi, Walt’s Favorite Shrimp, and steamed snow crab legs. Nothing here will be particularly edible, save for the crab legs, which I could eat morning, noon, and night. Alone. In the shower. Listening to Michael Bolton. That said, the lobster tail makes for a realistic set of dentures if you pop the whole shebang in your mouth at once and smile.

Just when you feel like you’ve hit a gastrointestinal wall, the Fudge Overboard will arrive. It will be warm but not hot, like sea water when you pee in the ocean. I don’t believe the ice cream was actually ice cream as it had the taste and texture of vanilla-flavored industrial spackle.

4.0 stars, with no stars awarded for food and all stars awarded for sensory overload, kitsch, and good old-fashioned romance.

the one

There’s a new stud horse in the Staff Caff, and I am beyond myself as to how I might adequately relay the magnitude of his awesomeness. As his name escapes me at this time, let’s call him Neo.

Neo is certainly not fucking around with those tightly-knit cornrows and gold fronts that flash before the unsuspecting luncher every time he smiles, which is often and without irony. In fact, it appears that for reasons unbeknownst to Caffers (his last job involved corporal punishment, perhaps?), he is genuinely happy to be here, despite never-ending commentary from Liz the Cafeteria Lady and impossibly bad jokes from Dave the Sandwich Guy ("New England clam chowda, get it? Chowda!!!”) Neo wants to know how I’m doing, and even says goodbye when I leave. Neo is my everything.

Last week, Neo created a perfectly proportioned tuna fish, cucumber and swiss sandwich on whole grain bread that he recommended be toasted for maximum enjoyment. Then, this mofo cut my sandwich in fourths diagonally and inserted a tiny wooden stick in each unit. Finally, he exited the lunch line and served my ass, tableside.

I know.

The Secret of My Succe$$

Today for lunch I had pizza! This was pretty much the only food I could stomach today. I went on a bit of a bender last night at our NCAA basketball celebration. Woke up this morning with a level 5 hangover which was downgraded to a 4 after pizza consumption. We also watched a bit of The Secret of My Success on our 17 inch mac. Susanna ate the leftover crust of Jason's black pepper pizza, which made her feel better. Good times.

Overall rating: 4 stars

boldly consuming lips and assholes

Today for lunch, I ate a hot dog and a hamburger. Apparently it was throwback to Middle School lunch day at the Staff Caff. Jason got me all hot and bothered in the elevator with grandiose machinations of Swiss cheese and bacon, but there was none to be had. I don’t know why I continue to delude myself in this way.

Susanna correctly identified the burger flavor as ‘nothing’. Also they must have just taken the patties out of the refrigerator because mine nearly froze my cheese.

I learned that our own Fish Taco cleans her bathroom with hotdogs. I also revealed my secret desire to master Klingon. Here’s a little taste:

Huh? = Nuqjatlh? = nook chatch

Where is the bathroom? = nuqDaq 'oH puchpa''e'? = nook dock oh putch pa eh?

Your mother has a smooth forehead! = Hab SoSlI' Quch! = Hab Shush Li' Cooch*
*Note: this is a powerful insult; don't say it to friends.

Shut up! = bIjatlh 'e' yImev! = b'jock eh imev!

Jade is a Klingon:

Michael the New Guy: Culinary Cock-Tease

Recently, the Staff Caff raised their prices. Now, I’m not cheap. I would like to think that if the Staff Caff purchased fine ingredients, like say foie gras or even squab, or if the menu options expanded beyond ten distinct meals in rotation, then I would accept the diminished funds in my bank account. Instead, everything is the same.

Except Michael the New Guy.

Michael has invented a variety of paninis and wraps. Finally, someone down there understands that the Staff Caff should give up on hot food entirely and invest in more George Foreman grills. Today I tried my first Michaelwich, which consisted of squash, zucchini, tomato and ricotta cheese rolled into a spinach tortilla and Foreman-grilled. Michael even lovingly arranged the Michaelwich on my plate like some Four Seasons-type shit. It was amazing, that is until I discovered that my little piece of paradise cost $6.50.

3.5 stars.

bite-size burger time

Today, thanks to the nice weather, we boycotted the staff caff neon orange tandoori chicken in favor of Heartland Brewery. I ordered a plate of mini-cheeseburgers and a side of fries. This was all washed down with a pint of Indiana Pale Ale, which I was unable to finish due to the abundance of mini-cheeseburgers in my tummy. I think Susanna finished it off for me. What a lush.

The lunchtime conversation consisted mostly of Buffy the Vampire Slayer, rollerskating, bowling, and first dates. We all came to the conclusion that ice-skating is not a good idea for a first date. Jason then snarfed his lager and lime which ended the meal on an hilarious and unpleasant note.

Overall rating: 3 1/2 stars