Why it's Really Sad I Make a Living Cooking
Another vacation cut short by lack of health insurance and a severe lack of health. But I bring you
This is what happens when I don’t go to sleep. Things get weird until they progress to an infinitesimally at which point you have to stand back, shake your head and say “whoa”.
After a very long, very hot, and very awkward drive back to Harrisburg I was still feeling under the weather from Thursday night’s adventure in the city with Joe. I ended up at Center City G-Man with Lee and some other guys we had run into (after all, it is Harrisburg and you can’t step two feet without running into someone you know) for a few beers and later on at Lee’s place to chill for a while. As the night wound down and my thoughts became preoccupied with a couch and a sandwich, I said goodbye and headed home.
I’ve always loved coming home. Walking into a place that you have total freedom in yet is nearly a stranger’s domain is spectacular. I opened the refrigerator door to no dirty South Oakland water vainly sieved through a Brita filter, no old beer no one will drink so it only sits there longer, no butter flavored margarine substitute tub of whatever the hell that is, but actual real food. It was nirvana.
I heated up what I thought to be sloppy joes. I piled the wonderfully seasoned beef onto a bun and covered with sweet relish. I sat down and marveled at the wonder before me and as I sunk my teeth in I thought “Wow. My mom can’t cook.”
It took me two full sandwiches to realize I had heated up taco meat.
Upon this realization I got the bright idea to top my taco meat sandwich with a concoction of Easy Cheese, hot sauce, and a heaping dollop of sour cream.
I give you - the grossest sandwich ever.
This is what happens when I don’t go to sleep. Things get weird until they progress to an infinitesimally at which point you have to stand back, shake your head and say “whoa”.
After a very long, very hot, and very awkward drive back to Harrisburg I was still feeling under the weather from Thursday night’s adventure in the city with Joe. I ended up at Center City G-Man with Lee and some other guys we had run into (after all, it is Harrisburg and you can’t step two feet without running into someone you know) for a few beers and later on at Lee’s place to chill for a while. As the night wound down and my thoughts became preoccupied with a couch and a sandwich, I said goodbye and headed home.
I’ve always loved coming home. Walking into a place that you have total freedom in yet is nearly a stranger’s domain is spectacular. I opened the refrigerator door to no dirty South Oakland water vainly sieved through a Brita filter, no old beer no one will drink so it only sits there longer, no butter flavored margarine substitute tub of whatever the hell that is, but actual real food. It was nirvana.
I heated up what I thought to be sloppy joes. I piled the wonderfully seasoned beef onto a bun and covered with sweet relish. I sat down and marveled at the wonder before me and as I sunk my teeth in I thought “Wow. My mom can’t cook.”
It took me two full sandwiches to realize I had heated up taco meat.
Upon this realization I got the bright idea to top my taco meat sandwich with a concoction of Easy Cheese, hot sauce, and a heaping dollop of sour cream.
I give you - the grossest sandwich ever.