As Jill's son safely returned home from a long walk.
---
JILL: The eagle has landed.
ME: Nanda went to the moon?
Showing posts with label jill. Show all posts
Showing posts with label jill. Show all posts
Sunday, January 24, 2010
Monday, October 5, 2009
Fussy Eater or Discerning Palate?
Lately, Jill's sister-in-law has accused me more than once of being a "fussy eater", simply because I don't like certain things. The same woman has two young children that are the very definition of "fussy eaters", by the way (as well as fussy sleepers, fussy television watchers, fussy ping-pong players...kids at that age are just friggin' fussy), so you'd think she'd understand the difference between somebody who is fussy and somebody who is 38 years old and just has a very clear idea of what he does and does not prefer to eat.
To my memory, the things I have expressed a lack of enthusiasm about eating in her presence are:
Pineapple
Ham
Certain vegetables (though not the usual suspects: I love broccoli and spinach, for instance)
A Hostess Zinger
Now, look. I'm almost 40, and I decided a long time ago that pineapple is fucking disgusting. And it is. I don't know how people eat this spiny cocoon of pure poison. I honestly don't. Also, a big-ass slice of ham makes me want to puke. Put the two together and you have an easy recipe for Kevin's Least Favorite Food.
I don't think my likes and dislikes are any more extreme than anybody else's. Jill's mother will only eat about three vegetables, but nobody's accused her of being a fussy eater. Jill has suffered this same accusation, which I think is mainly because she's a vegetarian; not eating meat for idealistic and/or religious reasons is not the same thing as being finicky.
I eat plenty of things that other people don't. I like jalapeno jelly. I eat the rind when somebody serves brie. I'm a fiend for Indian food, and the hotter the better. I finally gave sushi and sashimi a try a couple years ago, and what do you know? It wasn't bad (although I'm not going to eat sea urchin eggs or octopus; that's just nasty). I am the very definition of a non-fussy eater, because I'll give anything I haven't eaten the benefit of the doubt (except for the aforementioned octopus). Fussy eaters refuse to eat things because they don't like the way they look or smell; I don't eat things because of the way that they taste, which is the way it's supposed to work.
What I'm saying is, if you serve dinner to me and I don't dig into it with gusto, it's not because I'm a "fussy eater". It's because of one of the following two reasons: 1) you have prepared the meal with something I utterly despise, or 2) you're a terrible cook.
I don't believe either of those reasons denotes a character flaw on my part.
To my memory, the things I have expressed a lack of enthusiasm about eating in her presence are:
Pineapple
Ham
Certain vegetables (though not the usual suspects: I love broccoli and spinach, for instance)
A Hostess Zinger
Now, look. I'm almost 40, and I decided a long time ago that pineapple is fucking disgusting. And it is. I don't know how people eat this spiny cocoon of pure poison. I honestly don't. Also, a big-ass slice of ham makes me want to puke. Put the two together and you have an easy recipe for Kevin's Least Favorite Food.
I don't think my likes and dislikes are any more extreme than anybody else's. Jill's mother will only eat about three vegetables, but nobody's accused her of being a fussy eater. Jill has suffered this same accusation, which I think is mainly because she's a vegetarian; not eating meat for idealistic and/or religious reasons is not the same thing as being finicky.
I eat plenty of things that other people don't. I like jalapeno jelly. I eat the rind when somebody serves brie. I'm a fiend for Indian food, and the hotter the better. I finally gave sushi and sashimi a try a couple years ago, and what do you know? It wasn't bad (although I'm not going to eat sea urchin eggs or octopus; that's just nasty). I am the very definition of a non-fussy eater, because I'll give anything I haven't eaten the benefit of the doubt (except for the aforementioned octopus). Fussy eaters refuse to eat things because they don't like the way they look or smell; I don't eat things because of the way that they taste, which is the way it's supposed to work.
What I'm saying is, if you serve dinner to me and I don't dig into it with gusto, it's not because I'm a "fussy eater". It's because of one of the following two reasons: 1) you have prepared the meal with something I utterly despise, or 2) you're a terrible cook.
I don't believe either of those reasons denotes a character flaw on my part.
Friday, July 24, 2009
Always Behave as if Somebody Is Watching
This morning, I sat up in bed alone, probably belched or farted, reached to get my sweat-pants, and clumsily put them on. I then decided to roll toward the end corner of the bed, put my hands on the floor and sort of scrabble myself to a standing position. It was a very awkward and lazy way to get oneself out of bed. The first thing I saw was Jill looking at me with an amused half-smirk.
ME: "Oh! I didn't know you were there."
JILL: "Yes, I've been sitting here the whole time."
ME: "If I'd known that, I probably wouldn't have gotten out of bed all retarded."
Let this be a lesson to you all. You never know who's watching, or how stupid you look to them.
BE EVER VIGILANT.
ME: "Oh! I didn't know you were there."
JILL: "Yes, I've been sitting here the whole time."
ME: "If I'd known that, I probably wouldn't have gotten out of bed all retarded."
Let this be a lesson to you all. You never know who's watching, or how stupid you look to them.
BE EVER VIGILANT.
Tuesday, June 30, 2009
7-11 II: The Oldening
Today we drove by 7-11 to purchase a Slurpee for Jill. I had already been by earlier in the day with her son to buy drinks. So, this was the second time I had seen the Arabic girl who works the counter, who, yes, I have a bit of a crush on. You would too: she's very cute. Anyway, I made a big show of announcing that I was buying a Slurpee for Jill, and that I had bought a drink earlier for her son, making me the clear Sugar Daddy of the group.
Haha, I was just joking around, but I think my totally unnecessary announcement that Jill and I were a couple was some sort of weird guilt reaction to thinking the 7-11 girl was cute, which is so unlike me. I think girls are cute all the time. Big deal: Jill thinks guys are cute, too. It's part of being human.
It was another sign that I am turning into an Old Man. As if it weren't enough that I wake up with mysterious pains in my body after doing NOTHING all night long, it now seems that I will freak out and act weird whenever I'm in the presence of an attractive young woman. Woo!
If I could just hurry up and be 50, I'd be comfortable with all of this shit. Men in their 50's are expected to complain of odd pains and flirt with girls inappropriately in front of their wives/girlfriends.
Man, the 40's are going to be a long haul.
Haha, I was just joking around, but I think my totally unnecessary announcement that Jill and I were a couple was some sort of weird guilt reaction to thinking the 7-11 girl was cute, which is so unlike me. I think girls are cute all the time. Big deal: Jill thinks guys are cute, too. It's part of being human.
It was another sign that I am turning into an Old Man. As if it weren't enough that I wake up with mysterious pains in my body after doing NOTHING all night long, it now seems that I will freak out and act weird whenever I'm in the presence of an attractive young woman. Woo!
If I could just hurry up and be 50, I'd be comfortable with all of this shit. Men in their 50's are expected to complain of odd pains and flirt with girls inappropriately in front of their wives/girlfriends.
Man, the 40's are going to be a long haul.
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