12% : newest : archive : profile : book : notes : e-mail

an inez design.
Copyright 2002-2015

All the leaves are brown, and celery is the food of Satan himself.

2003-10-05 @ 2:23 a.m.

All the Leaves Are Brown...

And the sky is gray...The air is beginning to turn crisp, almost a bacony-crisp.
Except I don't like bacon when it's crispy. In fact, I usually don't like foods that are crispy in general. Mostly because of the embarrassment of eating crunchy foods in front of others. Usually the scene plays out like this:

I'm at some party where there seems to be an assortment of food. Chicken wings, carrots and celery, cheesecake, pizza, and cheese dip with chips. My mini-plate of food usually depends on who is at this said party. If it is people who I like to impress with my witty retorts and impressive intellect, (ha ha yeah right) then I usually go with the carrots and celery and maybe a chip. Why do I feel as though everyone at this party is analyzing my mini plate? And why do we even USE these retarded mini-plates anyway?

Anyway, as we know, if I were with my family or by myself I would be all over that pizza and cheesecake. Lord heavens, I love me some cheesecake.

Anyway, so as I was saying...celery and carrots. Yeah, so everyone is standing around the food table, because face it, there is never a social gathering without the obligatory super-crazy-buffet of random sh*t. I'm standing there quietly nibbling on some crusty old carrot that has been sitting on this table for WAY too long, trying desperately to fool these unsuspecting freaks. The carrot is so dry, it is starting to crack and tastes more like my shoe. (Yes, I've eaten shoes. Jealous?) So then I try the celery. The thing is. I LOATH CELERY. Yes, I said loath. If that old ass carrot is like eating a shoe, then celery is like eating hair, yet crunchy hair that has been laced with grass. So there I am trying to eat this damn thing as quietly as possible. Without of course, getting that stringy stupid grass-hair crap in my teeth.

Then the most dreaded thing happens. Suddenly everyone around the 'Buffet of Doom' goes quiet. There is the uncomfortable silence that every host fears. But of course, Chickie-Legs picked 2 seconds before this to try the hair-veggie. I stood there slowly crunching on the celery, trying desperately to not make any noise. Which, if you've had any experience with celery, is damn near impossible. Then I think maybe if I let it sit in my mouth long enough the saliva will wear down the crunch-factor and when someone for the love of all that is holy starts talking again, I can very quickly consume this crap.
But I had not anticipated what occurred next. The celery sits on my tongue. I try not to move.

A dust ball flows by. And the inevitable happens. The girl who wears too much make up asks ME a question. Why dear God? Why have do hate me so? What should I do?

Do I answer her with this crap in my mouth? Or do I try and do the secret spit take into my mini joke of a napkin? Or do I quickly eat it as I turn my head the other way? OR do I spit it out onto her face as I contemplate all of the above?

Later that night, I began to reflect on the previous events. Make-up girl already left. Evidently, the celery-spit-grass combo has caused her mascara to run down her face. And also, as it turns out, celery stains white cardigans. (Yeah, I know. Who knew?)

So take it from me, my friend. Next time you come across this situation, remember my story. Remember it well. Stay away from the celery. Eat the cheesecake and pizza. Eat all of it, even. Chances are, no one will even notice what you are eating because they will be too concerned about what is on their mini-plate.

previous + next

14 comments so far