In another 31 years I am pretty sure that I will have played down my "to do" list of text games, will have seen my children reduced to fine, red mists in the Irish-Lebanese war of 2028, and own seventeen cats. This list is not for them. This list is for us. This list is what I will eat every day in my retirement.
#1 - CHICKEN KORMA, by THE YAK AND THE YETI
For me, it is not specifically *what* food, although important, but also *where*. And the finest food, my favorite food, the food I shall eat every day (except for the others to follow on the list) is chicken korma, from the Yak and the Yeti, in, er, I can't remember the city name, maybe Arvada?
Oh, the times I have had at the Yak and the Yeti.
The chicken is succulent, tender, and easily falls apart when stabbed with a fork so I don't need extra silverware. I would drink the actual korma without chicken and rice and consider it a fine meal if I had to. But luckily I don't.
The only thing about it I don't like are the golden raisins, as I don't feel they mesh well. But that's OK, all foods do indeed have some small flaw.
When I turn 65 I shall eat and blow out my heart in such an explosion that Mars suffers. With chicken korma from the Yak & The Yeti, won't you join me??
Ice Cream Jonsey wrote:#1 - CHICKEN KORMA, by THE YAK AND THE YETI
This dish actually looks quite good! Though, like you, I'm not so sure about those golden raisins needing to be there and am left smirking by the thought of them.
Well, it is hopefully obvious by now that as a disgusting slob with the eating habits of a six year old, changes needed to be made.
Chicken korma? Not a bad dish maybe once every two months! A treat! You wouldn't want it to be a staple, though. That is, unless you planned on getting so fat that you drove out anyone who can stand the sight of you, both figuratively and more hilariously, literally.
That brings us to today's Food I Will Eat During Retirement, or whatever the fuck this thread is called. MAY I RECOMMEND:
- Blackberry Yoplait Yogurt, Light, Fat Free (100 calories)
- One half of a Dale's Pale Ale (calories unknown?)
- One goddamn fire locust, inhaled while shuffling my disgusting blorb form around the block
"A table for one, ah, monsieur?" asks the greeter at the restaurant, with a hurtful sting on every other word starting with "table." I told him that a table would be fine. He was going to say something else, but there was a sudden buzzing in the air.
His eyes grew wide. Mine waggled, but full disclosure: I have a problem with that. We were now no longer enemies in what would have been a hurtful transaction for both of us. We were now allies.
I raced to the table. He pulled out the chair for me and pushed it in. I didn't even need to order. They came. From the back lot of Denver's hottest new eatery to my own maw. I stabbed at my face as the delicious juices, flavors and thoraxes ran down. "The menu this evening was equisite," I said to the greeter. "I could not be happier." I tipped him well.
Foods I Will Eat Every Day In Retirement Part Four
1) A delectable cut of mosquito, glazed with my own blood and flown straight from my arm to esophagus when I tried to shoo it away
2) A colony of tender, baby no-see-ums situated near a fire hydrant.
3) At least twenty percent of the web of an orb spider.
It was supposed to be an easy job. In like Flint, bing bang boom, out with the goods, no fuss, no muss. It wasn't supposed to be a disaster.
I let my crew down that day: Freecell, Minesweeper and Windows Pinball. Free took a blast from the guy right in the face and fell down like someone popped him. I was supposed to be the scout. I was supposed to make sure we all got in and out alive.
But I had to stretch. I had to get the endorphins flowing an hour before the job. I had to run around the block until I got my delicious fill.
First up was a dragonfly that actually changed directions when it saw me coming. It was futile. Within a second of being aware of the thing's existence, it was in my gullet, where it unfortunately stayed for like a day because bugs don't go down easy.
The bloodlust was now hot within me. I saw a northern Colorado flying air beetle, just minding its own business, in the middle of the field. I took off like a stealthy cougar, slicked with pretend grease. I pounced and swallowed it whole and unleashed fake claws and a raspy, "rowwwwr!" which later made it to Youtube WHICH I REGRET.
But the last and final insect was the one that doomed me. A colony of no-see-ums. I dove in and just danced a macabre 360, taking them all as I could.
And do you know why?
Because you suffer, for what you have to do, that's why. You become a goddamn man and put up with the inhaled insects and the people pointing at you and laughing and the heat and the stress and the humidity and the pain because the oxygen isn't getting to your muscles. You do it because your heart beating like a cartoon heart beating in your chest at least means you feel alive, and you'll relish the feeling and want it and need it and seek it out. You do it because you may fuck everything up and get three anthropomorphic Windows applications killed in a unmotivated-by-narrator bank heist, but you can at least look at yourself if you survive, and not turn away from your own gaze in the mirror, and not die the coward's millionth death and not have so much as a single fucking doubt that you did what you could and loved unconditionally with your heart and battled for what you cared about and believed in until the last cell in your body burst.
(An actual cell, not Freecell, or "Cell," as we called 'em.)
But really. Seriously: why?
Because when you meet your makers, they will poke and they will prod and they will cut you. The imps will pull the skin from your body and every horrible moment of your life will be out of context and running through the assembled choir's vision, so you can't stop seeing it even if you close your eyes, but neither can some lesser daemons, which lets them make a big dramatic show out of how horrible your existence was.
They will line up the bugs that you swallowed and the line will be endless and someone, God probably, will sneer and laugh (at you, not with) and bellow, "They were IN you. WHAT A JOKE! It says quite CLEARLY to be FRUITFUL and MULTIPLY, not eat FRUIT FLIES and MILLIPI. Was it worth it, human? WAS IT?"
And you can say that countless billions of insects have walked (the Devil corrects you and japes with "flew") er flew the earth, and you would have gladly swallowed them all.
A pause. "Just not all at the same time, of course, HONK," you say and mime vomiting, and the choir of the damned break out in laughter, and our father above and Prince of Lies below eviscerate them because honestly, they're both kind of assholes.
I don't know, I am off meat for a while. I am going to have sweet corn with spinach for dinner tomorrow. I might add in a can of tuna if I start to feel like I can't lift a bus over my head. (I can't lift a bus over my head, but that's this whole other thing.)
