Is Nothing Sacred?
After finding out the status of my bar, I picked up a couple of things at the farmer’s market. One was Holy Guacamoly. This guacamole is amazing. While writing about my employment woes, I drowned myself in this green tub of heaven. Although I’m trying to get down to skydiving weight, on Wednesdays I have a standing date with a pound of the green goddess, damn future plans. In fact, I had a man date with my friend Mike. We smoked a bowl (I needed to up my appetite) and went to P.F. Chang’s. The food was good. The waiter dropped the check with the fortune cookies and since I was done, I reached for mine.
I find fortune cookies to be like astrology, not in the way that only single women seem to guide their lives by it, but it’s an irrational message which we can cling to. People can be funny about fortune cookies. My friend Steve used to add “in bed” to the end of each one. It would go something like, “The hard times will begin to fade, joy will take their place…in bed.” Any time I hear someone say that it reminds me of him. I’ve never been one to believe in fortunes but I’ve saved a few in my time. In fact, there was a while where I believed that people should grab their own fortune cookie and that was the only way the fortune would be their own. My Dad caught onto this and would grab all of them, shuffle them around, then pass them out. Luckily, I had an excellent therapist to talk me off that ledge. After stonily shoveling my lunch, I grabbed for my fortune cookie. Actually, I can’t stand these flour based fortune wrappers. They suck. I just wanted the fortune. What I read blew my mind.
“It would be good to treat yourself to dessert.”
Really? Really? I’ve already chosen to dine at this corporate hell hole, can’t the hard sell stop? I understand a waiter trying to up sell you. Bartenders do it all the time. For instance, I would ask for a vodka cranberry. The bartender would say, “Would you like to make it Grey Goose?” “Why? Because I can taste the difference between Gilby’s and Grey Goose through the cranberry syrup, you up selling fuck?” I’m smooth with sales people, but this is a piece of paper. There is no one to yell at. I chose the closest person, a bus boy. After my spit filled tirade, he pointed to the plate and replied, “Still working?” Plus, it’s my fortune. Is there nothing holy in this world? I’m trying to get down to skydiving weight. (Guacamole is good fat.) I’ll have trouble going back to P.F. Changs, because they feel that fortune cookies are just shills for their dessert tray, but readers I ask you, is nothing sacred?
Just read this the other day….
Updated “fortunes” have been showing up in Chinese restaurants, dealing out some harsh truths. The “you need professional help” fortune seems to have really touched a nerve with bloggers, while the one reading “Today is a disastrous day” is being pulled from circulation. Can ironic-hipster fortune cookies be far behind?