Big Fat Queer

April 10, 2010

At the Foothills of the Mountain o’ Carbs

I arrive later than most so the heap of doughy goodness has been winnowed down to a few stragglers.

I did not scale the heights, but I did have half a bagel with a schmear (look it up if you don’t know). Although I didn’t get drunk last night, I had 48 ounces (three pints) of beer over about 3.5 hours. Alcohol has a similar effect on me as sugar in getting the cravings going. For lunch I have ordered a tuna salad on rye with a large house salad. I need to load up on veggies to help get back in the groove.

A digression here: I don’t know about the rest of the world, but in New York tuna salad is always referred to as “tuna fish”, which is redundant. Is there tuna chicken? tuna cat? tuna greens? And in delis adding the “fish” means salad. If you want just plain canned tuna (there is no fresh tuna in a deli) it is called “individual tuna”. I referred to schmear in the last paragraph. I’m down with schmear, but “tuna fish” and “individual tuna” give me linguistic heebie-jeebies. (Try the linguistic with clam sauce – bah-dah-bum!)

I have walked a half mile today, but obviously in the wrong direction.

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