20 August, 2007

The problem with eating healthy

I almost stabbed a guy in the neck with a fork today at the salad bar. at the very least, i wanted to make sarcastic remarks, or ask him what his goddamn problem was.

it was a fucking nightmare.

this guy, like 5'6" with blondish hair and a beard, looking about 26 years old, is making his salad. i'm right behind him in line. he starts by putting romaine lettuce on his plate. then he gets one of the other artsy types of lettuce, i don't know what it was. and then, he decides to remove the romaine lettuce from his plate and start putting it back in the salad bar again! and i need to wait for him to remove one bite of lettuce, as if this is important enough to hold up the process.

next stop, he's getting some carrots or other nonsense. i want to skip past him but i want cucumbers (behind him) and carrots (where he's standing). so i wait, while he fusses around with the carrots. this part is annoying, but just a precursor to the point at which i almost confronted him. the first major pitstop occurs at the green peppers where he's just rearranging the peppers in the salad bar for like 30 seconds before he even begins putting them on his plate.

finally, blah blah, we turn the corner to the home stretch. i want to pass him but i can't because he's still occupying every stop that i want, and taking way too long. he pitches a tent inside the cheddar cheese, takes 2 pieces of hard boiled egg, then moves on to the seafood salad. the fact that he takes the seafood salad makes me angry because of the mere fact that he eats that shit, but i'm happy because he's moved on past my area. yay.

but no! wait!

he changes his mind, and comes BACK and practically fucking pushes me out of the way so that he can put about 3 grams of tuna on top. the tuna was before the cheddar! and as far as i'm concerned, the window for tuna had long since closed. we exchanged brief eye contact at this point, him detecting my impatience, and me detecting his self-righteousness. i forgot to mention that as meticulous as he seems to be, he keeps dropping items off the plate and then picking them back up and putting them on his plate again, which seems a little unsanitary even to me, though i probably do all sorts of shit worse than that. he dropped the same fucking piece of broccoli like 3 times, and each time lovingly patted it back into its home in a nest of non-romaine lettuce.

after these various rescue missions, he takes chicken, and moves on to start staring at the salad dressings. at this point, if i don't get away from him, i am going to murder him. while he's pondering the options, i quickly grab the balsamic italian whatever dressing spoon and start putting it on my salad. clearly this is what he decided he wanted, because he moves back into my personal space again and then glares at me for "going out of turn" with the dressing.

that fucker. i don't have all day!

anyway, i got my dressing and escaped. i should have taken a spoon full of dressing and flung it at him and said - "here! here! is this what you want! do you want the fucking dressing! let me help you! or wait! maybe you want 5 more milligrams of tuna! i will go sit in that chair over there and pick my nose while you contemplate whether there's anything you missed! would you like me to cut up your salad for you into bite-sized pieces? i would do it for you! you ignorant fuck!"

but then i remembered... it's just salad.

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