Friday, May 20, 2011

Apparently the Rapture is I ate Mexican food.

What better way to prepare for the rapture than to subject myself to subpar Mexican food? I don't know. But right now I have the regrets, well a touch of the regrets.

My parents taught me that quality is better than quantity, and in most cases, you get what you pay for. They might not think I get that from the amount of clothes I like to have (just like cooking, I prefer OPTIONS), but I try to apply to other areas of my life. Maybe I am a giant douche bag, but I like good Mexican food (hence my attempt at chimichangas...which weren't bad at all, but just rolled without experience). I love good food.

What really chaps my ass as a law student and as a member of society is over-priced, sub-par, badly plated, crap food. Just because I am hungry doesn't mean I don't appreciate a good presentation. Just sayin. (By the way, shout out to my Dad who loves the terms "chaps my ass" and "crapped in my hat" to describe his utter reaction to downright personally offensive behavior) Anyway, when I was in Austin, I out-tacoed my own self (is it possible? why, yes it most certainly is). I saw a taco stand and I told Ellen "I was in need." Luckily, as my oldest bestest friend, Ellen understood that if I don't eat, I am a cranky bitch to deal with. How does one get low-blood sugar anyway? Once upon a time, I thought I had science figured out. I have learned that my days of science have transformed into philosophy of law and chaos - which I have also applied to the anthropology of food/cooking (yea, I said it).

Some of the best meals I have ever made have been with my friend Geoff. When we were younger (is it possible to feel old at 26...apparently so), Geoff and I would cook dinner for his parents and it was great. We would make great food, more or less cuss each other out in the kitchen, and then eat like those words never happened. Sometimes things just need to come out. Sometimes they transpire into something good. When I was mad as hell in high school, my soccer coaches would encourage me to get it out on the field and leave it out there. A lot of time it worked, and I made all-conference teams because of it. I think cooking deserves the same respect. Cooking has become a relaxing activity for me. It makes me feel good to make people good food. I made myself a sandwich the other day from the chicken I roasted the other night and threw one of the fingerling potatoes on the sandwich - and no, I am not sorry about it - the potato made it that much more awesome.

One day, yall will get to know me and appreciate my mismeasurements on life's strict demands on how much is needed. I don't go overboard, I keep it in check and I tighten up when I need to. I just think with all the crap going on in the world, and possibly the rapture happening this weekend (I'll believe it when I see it), that by anything that I believe in, my tastebuds have had the best action of my life.

Laugh hard, eat well, let people know you appreciate what they do for you large or small. And for the love of the rapture, don't wear sandals. One of the leaders told all people of Atlanta that sandals weren't allowed in the rapture. SORRY BOUT IT. I guess my rainbow flipflops with my classy silver duct tape on them will not be allowed in (oh, ohhhhhhh.). I make my own guest lists and am thankful I have the family I have. Like my mom and dad always told me, you really only get one true family. Don't forget it and don't take it for granted.

Happy RAPTURE! I will be laying out and playing with my dog this weekend and working on my memos as a law clerk.

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