I really should have known better, especially considering I’ve got a lot to do today and a weekend barreling towards me like a kid with a $5 bill trying to chase down the ice cream truck. But I never have been very smart, so I went and did it anyway. I followed my coworkers to the Chinese buffet and I consumed delicious umami-rich goodness until I was essentially one more steamed dumpling away from exploding like a Death Star with an unprotected ventilation duct.
Which, of course, means that:
- I hate myself right now. Seriously, self-loathing is at unquantifiable levels as of this moment.
- I am never, ever, EVER going back to that Chinese Buffet. I mean, Taylor Swift will be calling me to get back together before I go there again.
- Anyone have a cot? Holy crepes, I would pay a kajillion dollars to be able to take a nap and without interruption.
- I couldn’t wedge so much as a Girl Scout Cookie into my gastrointestinal tract right now. It’s like an expressway from Michigan to Florida on a holiday weekend.
- Yet, is, um, anyone else kind of…hungry?
At any rate, my brain is sluggish right now like that green stuff your kids buy even though you know it’s somehow going to end up getting stuck in the fabric of your family room couch. Of course, once that happens, you’re condemned to half a decade of telling guests not to worry about sitting in that dark spot on the cushion because it’s not what they think, it won’t stain anymore, it’s just, you know, old gak.
Once again, here we see plainly exhibited evidence of the evils of the Chinese buffet. I just spent an entire paragraph talking about gak, for the love of all that’s gross and slippery.
So here’s my weekend advice to you, fellow puddintopians: enjoy your Friday lunch with as much gusto as you can. Make it a marvelous, adventurous meal. Treat Friday Lunch with the respect it deserves. But be cautious, too, and when you’ve got a busy weekend looming in front you like a red-faced, white-haired librarian with a Past Due slip, don’t eat at the Chinese buffet.
Because you’re going to need to stay quick on your feet to have any hope of slurping out this weekend’s delicious meaty marrow.
And right now, I couldn’t slurp up a Coke even using a McDonald’s patented “Firehose” straw.
Have a great weekend, kids! And, uh, try not to set the place on fire.
Pud’n
Puddintopia 