A chip off the olé otle
Output from a Culinary Institute of America graduate.
I received a $25 gift card to Chipotle Mexican Grill for a birthday gift. Now I don’t know Chipotle from a hole in the ground but, ostensibly, it still seemed like a reasonable gift. I knew it was a chain restaurant of some sort so I figured I’d get a meal of out the deal.
At the time we’d been in the big city for six months. I had never seen a Chipotle. Luckily, a check of the internet maps revealed there were nine to choose from within a 10-mile radius. We chose the closest and embarked on a big city adventure.
The adventure really took off in the parking lot. It was tinier than a postage stamp’s sphincter and, wisely, allowed cars to enter from both directions at the same time. So I was in a really good mood by the time we entered the eatery. (I will deliberately eschew the word “restaurant” for the remainder of this review.)
Although we waited for a space, a car pulled in and assumed it was theirs, not knowing that we had waited six hours. It was an honest mistake but the angry look on the dude’s face did make for awkward times a few minutes later when they stood six inches behind us in the line.
That brings me to the next feature of this diner: The Line. We walked into the place and the most prominent feature, the thing that really captured your attention was the humans in a queue. I looked at my wife. She looked at me. We shrugged and said the same thing. “Let’s get the hell out of here.”
All in all not a bad first experience.
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Today Is Your Dearthday!
When I hear Christian music I often ask myself a question.
Jesus Christ across the galaxy
Bringing toys and goodies for you and me
Are you singing for His glory? Or your own? You have to dig deep for the true answer.
That might be an awkward opening, but here’s the point of this post:
Today is a new day. It’s my friend’s birthday. So I decided to go on Facebook and send him some cheese-ball greetings. “Congratulations for being alive on a day that signifies the number of rotations of this planetoid around its star being a whole number. Jolly good, chum!”
I expected to see Facebook jam the birthday in my face. But it didn’t. There was no mention of my friend on the birthday dailies. Hmm. What to make of this?
Using logic and deduction, I theorized that my friend didn’t share his birthday with Facebook. Wise move. Extrapolating further, I reasoned that my friend probably didn’t wish his birthday to be generally known. That seemed to me to be a reasonable hypothesis that fit all the known facts.
What to do? What to do?
I had a choice. Post publicly on his wall, thus announcing the occasion to all of his friends, or respect what I assumed were his wishes and keep it private?
Since it was his special day, and not my own, I decided to recognize that he’s an individual who exists in the universe and has feelings. I decided to show respect for that.
I sent my greetings in private.
Feeling warm and fuzzy about being a considerate friend, I went back to my homepage to see what other flotsam Facebook had washed up on my beach. I do this daily to remind me about the true nature of humanity and such.
Bazinga!
There it was, on the very top of the news feed. Someone else just wished my friend a happy birthday. In public. For all to see. Bastard! Quickly his Facebook was overrun with the bloody things. They say it’s the thought that counts. So how do you take a good thing and convert it into the equivalent of peeing in your so-called friend’s Wheaties?
There it sits.
Happy birthday to you? Or me? Who exactly are we celebrating here?
“Psst! Hey, everybody! Look at me! Look at how wonderful I am remembering my friend’s birthday and shit. Aren’t I good? Don’t you love me? You love me, don’t you? Why hasn’t everyone liked this? Click like or you’ll be unfriended! Somebody call the whambulance!”
Again, to this birthday interloper, I ask: Whose glory is motivating your behavior, you narcissistic creepazoid?
Guest Post: Big Five Oh
I recently celebrated suffered through a so-called milestone birthday. There was, of course, the obligatory birthday card with all the standard jokes about walkers, eyesight, driving, Geritol and Viagra, as required by law in all states (except Florida). As I desperately scrabbled at the card searching for currency a poem fell to the floor. (See below.) I threw out my back bending over to pick it up.
On the plus side, my wife took me to a strip club. Whoa! She cleverly got me wasted on tequila shots and pints of beer before revealing the destination so I wouldn’t enjoy and/or remember the experience. Still, it was quite a surprise and she treated me to the first “lap dance” of my entire life (I don’t get out much) which consisted of three-minutes of quasi-hugging a naked woman in a semi-private room for $40. (Which, by the way, came out of my wallet.)
Although drunk, I still possessed my math wits. I pulled my iPad out of my pants and used it to calculate the hourly rate of “lap dance” at $800 per hour. That is so not worth it.
To add insult to injury the stripper adult entertainment professional was way more into my wife than she was with me. Downright handsy if you know what I mean. That hurt. There’s nothing quite like a birthday to reinforce your position on the food chain.
She says I can have my next lap dance in another 50 years.
Happy birthday to me!
Ode to My Husband
by Mrs. Abyss
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Fine Wine, Cheese of a Certain Age and Wikipedia Jollies
Go ahead. Guess what this post is about. I dare you.
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Happy Birthday to the Marquis de Sade
Happy birthday, you big lug!
Donatien Alphonse François, Marquis de Sade (2 June 1740 – 2 December 1814) was a French aristocrat, revolutionary, politician, philosopher, and writer famous for his libertine sexuality and lifestyle. His works include novels, short stories, plays, dialogues, and political tracts; in his lifetime some were published under his own name, while others appeared anonymously and Sade denied being their author. He is best known for his erotic works, which combined philosophical discourse with pornography, depicting bizarre sexual fantasies with an emphasis on violence, criminality, and blasphemy against the Catholic Church. He was a proponent of extreme freedom, unrestrained by morality, religion or law.
Sade was incarcerated in various prisons and in an insane asylum for about 32 years of his life; eleven years in Paris (10 of which were spent in the Bastille) a month in Conciergerie, two years in a fortress, a year in Madelonnettes, three years in Bicêtre, a year in Sainte-Pélagie, and 13 years in the Charenton asylum. During the French Revolution he was an elected delegate to the National Convention. Many of his works were written in prison.
Is it okay to call The Marquis a renaissance man? Politics, philosophy, blasphemy against the Catholic church, writing anonymously and so much more. All I can say is, “Wow.”
Jane’s RAOK birthday present
Don’t blame me. Jane started it! Neener, neener!
It seems she didn’t want a birthday present. Oh no! That would have been too easy.
Instead she went and challenged a bunch of folks to commit (that seems like a good word) so-called random acts of kindness. Also known as RAOK.
She even had the sheer audacity to include me. Never challenge a Guru!
Of course, this was some time ago. Way back in December. And I’ve been struggling with it ever since.
How does one do this? Random? I’m fairly okay with that. But kindness? What is this strange word?
I didn’t want to do the stereotypical drive-thru thing. “I’ll pay for the quadruple-bypass-burger for the car behind me.” No, that didn’t feel right.
This had to be big. Monumental. Maybe even something I’d never done before.
I’d almost completely given up. It had dropped out of my mind with nary a second thought. And then …
Last Friday night I found myself on a road trip with the wife. Literally in the middle of nowhere we pulled over at a secluded lodge for some dinner. It was a little after 7pm. We asked if it was too late to eat and were shown to a nice spot in a completely empty dining room. Ah, one of my favorite things. We had the place to ourselves.
We had a nice dinner, albeit overpriced no doubt due to the secluded location.
During the meal I heard a din from the bar. It seems there was a conversation with a decidedly negative tone regarding dogs. (I prefer cats.) It caught my attention.
I leaned in to my wife and whispered, “Hey. I just had an idea. You hear what they’re saying about dogs?” She nodded. “I’m going to buy the whole bar a round of drinks! At last, Jane will get her birthday present.”
When the waitress came round again, we told her no, we didn’t need any dessert, but there was one more thing. “I want to buy a round for everyone in the bar.” She took a little convincing but she finally did it.
We could hear the response from the bar. It was time to get the hell out of Dodge before something happened like drunken gratitude. I made a dash to escape but the waitress caught me.
Pulling me by my ear, my wife and I were kidnapped to the bar and forced to … shudder … mingle! I know! The Guru never mingles. Ever.
Long story short, we got to meet some people, including the married couple who owned the lodge, and, dare I say it? I actually had a good time. In a bit of good karma, we also picked up safety tips on the drive ahead. It seems a log had fallen on the curvy road and sent a truck driver to the hospital. We were extra cautious when we got back on the road.
So I sincerely hope that Jane likes this humble little present. I even picked up a story in the bargain. Now I can regale uninterested people with the tale of how I bought a round of drinks for an entire bar of strangers. And lived through it.
Turd watching
When animals attack ... the ground with poop!!!
This weekend I’m out gallivanting around the world. If I haven’t replied or commented it’s because I’m on a road trip celebrating an annual festivity known as “Birthday Month.” This arcane ritual requires full attention and limited internet access.
I was able to get out in nature a bit and snapped the above photo. I hope you like it.
By the time this auto-scheduled post goes up I’ll be in my car mere hours from my home base in the Abyss. When I get home I’ll plop into bed, go right to sleep, then in no time at all the crushing morning rush to get ready for work will be upon me.
Oh yeah, I’m sick again, too. I love it when a new year meets all of your wildest expectation. Oh joy.
Shouts from the Abyss 
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