The fuckers at my biweekly omelet sandwich/mango shake restaurant tried to pull a fast one on me this morning. My sandwich came already prepared, which you think would be a benefit, rather than letting me slice the baguette, shake in the pepper, lay in the slices of cucumber, tomato and onion, cram in the oily slightly browned two egg omelet, squeeze in the chili sauce and cram it all in with the knife before cutting the rather-large-for-one-dollar sandwich in half with the chili-stained knife.
What was so fast about it you ask? Well, for one, assembling the beast of a sandwich had become a morning routine of sorts. Something I looked forward to. It took my mind off the flies circling overhead and the dirty cat on the floor waiting for an opportunity to take a bite when I looked away for a second. They also put mayonnaise on it, which I despise. Perhaps most importantly though, they reduced the egg content. Cramming in lettuce this time with all the regular fixings trying to hide the fact there was one less egg, I don't like that kind of business. Just raise the fucking price and keep it real rather than disguise it in order to fool the customer. Fool me once, shame on you; fool me twice, shame on me. I shall not get fooled again.
Just to clarify, biweekly as stated above is meant to mean twice a week. Just checking Dictionary.com, it appears to have two definitions: 1. occurring every two weeks. and 2. occurring twice a week. How the fuck can that not possibly lead to confusion? Perhaps the difference between American and British English. Annoying, yes.
Ok, now that I've got that out of my system, I can relax. It was the fastest I've ever consumed the aforementioned rather-large-for-one-dollar sandwich probably because there was one less egg to masticate. The mango shake was rather delicious, but I slurped it up and requested the bill with my lips still suctioned to the straw. No tip for you! Now I'm sipping perhaps the best cup of coffee in Siem Reap at Central Cafe. The waitress asked with a quivering lip or a tear in her eye, I couldn't tell exactly what was wrong, if I wanted milk, which I didn't. I like her more for displaying such emotion even if she was trying her best to hide it. I hate to see people sad though.
My coffee is now cold, but it still tastes good. I reckon that's the sign of a good cup. Or maybe it's cause I put sugar in it. Yeah, that's probably more like it.
The last two movies I have watched, both over the span of the last 48 hours, contained the song It Never Rains in Southern California. Weird. They were Greenberg featuring Ben Stiller and Melancholia featuring Kiefer Sutherland amongst others. Both movies I will likely forget in due time and re-watch at a later date and say Oh fuck, not this agaaaaaaain! A bit odd that I don't remember hearing It Never Rains over the course of the two part Melancholia. Just happened to see it listed in the credits. I always watch the credits or fast forward through them just in case I miss something entertaining. In the end though, they are rarely worth watching, truth be told.
Getting back to this post nearly nearly seven hours after it was born. I've since watched another movie, this one entitled In a Better World and gone for a jog and now I'm drinking a tall glass of cranberry juice and eating peanuts at dusk listening to Once There Was a Hushpuppy from the Beasts of the Southern Wild soundtrack. You really should have a listen and maybe even watch the flick, but the score is the best thing about it. Ok, I'll stop promoting it now. But seriously, it makes me feel like I'm in love and I like that. Maybe that's why all the waitresses at this place look so pretty. I might order a second cranberry juice just in case I have a urinary tract infection.
Seriously, this music is so fucking good. I feel a bit impolite wearing my headphones in a public place, but I am sitting alone so fuck it. It is nice to hear the overhead tunes, the traffic below (because I'm not in it) and the chatter of others (from afar). Now I can just put the headphones around my neck and pretend I'm a DJ.
The mood lighting is now on. Triangle Bar is where it's at, for sure. Just nobody to enjoy the mood with. Where art thou my pretty waitress? I'm kidding, I'm not in the mood to babysit. Just make eyes and look away when they feel sufficiently uncomfortable. I can't decide between another cranberry juice or pack it in and go get a vanilla brownie ice cream before dinner. Why not? I think they say chunks of brownie in one's ice cream improves vision, don't they? And my vision is a little blurry at the moment. Like carrot juice, but better. Depends on your mood, I guess.
Oops, starting to see mosquitoes in the shadows. Fuck the cranberry juice! The pretty waitresses seem to be helping other customers anyway. Now what, another movie I suppose. As long as it doesn't contain It Never Rains in Southern California it'll be alright. An ice cream, dinner and a movie, alone I might add (no money, no honey) is an almost perfect trifecta. Ok, the mosquitoes are ravenous. I'm out!
What was so fast about it you ask? Well, for one, assembling the beast of a sandwich had become a morning routine of sorts. Something I looked forward to. It took my mind off the flies circling overhead and the dirty cat on the floor waiting for an opportunity to take a bite when I looked away for a second. They also put mayonnaise on it, which I despise. Perhaps most importantly though, they reduced the egg content. Cramming in lettuce this time with all the regular fixings trying to hide the fact there was one less egg, I don't like that kind of business. Just raise the fucking price and keep it real rather than disguise it in order to fool the customer. Fool me once, shame on you; fool me twice, shame on me. I shall not get fooled again.
Just to clarify, biweekly as stated above is meant to mean twice a week. Just checking Dictionary.com, it appears to have two definitions: 1. occurring every two weeks. and 2. occurring twice a week. How the fuck can that not possibly lead to confusion? Perhaps the difference between American and British English. Annoying, yes.
Ok, now that I've got that out of my system, I can relax. It was the fastest I've ever consumed the aforementioned rather-large-for-one-dollar sandwich probably because there was one less egg to masticate. The mango shake was rather delicious, but I slurped it up and requested the bill with my lips still suctioned to the straw. No tip for you! Now I'm sipping perhaps the best cup of coffee in Siem Reap at Central Cafe. The waitress asked with a quivering lip or a tear in her eye, I couldn't tell exactly what was wrong, if I wanted milk, which I didn't. I like her more for displaying such emotion even if she was trying her best to hide it. I hate to see people sad though.
My coffee is now cold, but it still tastes good. I reckon that's the sign of a good cup. Or maybe it's cause I put sugar in it. Yeah, that's probably more like it.
The last two movies I have watched, both over the span of the last 48 hours, contained the song It Never Rains in Southern California. Weird. They were Greenberg featuring Ben Stiller and Melancholia featuring Kiefer Sutherland amongst others. Both movies I will likely forget in due time and re-watch at a later date and say Oh fuck, not this agaaaaaaain! A bit odd that I don't remember hearing It Never Rains over the course of the two part Melancholia. Just happened to see it listed in the credits. I always watch the credits or fast forward through them just in case I miss something entertaining. In the end though, they are rarely worth watching, truth be told.
Getting back to this post nearly nearly seven hours after it was born. I've since watched another movie, this one entitled In a Better World and gone for a jog and now I'm drinking a tall glass of cranberry juice and eating peanuts at dusk listening to Once There Was a Hushpuppy from the Beasts of the Southern Wild soundtrack. You really should have a listen and maybe even watch the flick, but the score is the best thing about it. Ok, I'll stop promoting it now. But seriously, it makes me feel like I'm in love and I like that. Maybe that's why all the waitresses at this place look so pretty. I might order a second cranberry juice just in case I have a urinary tract infection.
Seriously, this music is so fucking good. I feel a bit impolite wearing my headphones in a public place, but I am sitting alone so fuck it. It is nice to hear the overhead tunes, the traffic below (because I'm not in it) and the chatter of others (from afar). Now I can just put the headphones around my neck and pretend I'm a DJ.
The mood lighting is now on. Triangle Bar is where it's at, for sure. Just nobody to enjoy the mood with. Where art thou my pretty waitress? I'm kidding, I'm not in the mood to babysit. Just make eyes and look away when they feel sufficiently uncomfortable. I can't decide between another cranberry juice or pack it in and go get a vanilla brownie ice cream before dinner. Why not? I think they say chunks of brownie in one's ice cream improves vision, don't they? And my vision is a little blurry at the moment. Like carrot juice, but better. Depends on your mood, I guess.
Oops, starting to see mosquitoes in the shadows. Fuck the cranberry juice! The pretty waitresses seem to be helping other customers anyway. Now what, another movie I suppose. As long as it doesn't contain It Never Rains in Southern California it'll be alright. An ice cream, dinner and a movie, alone I might add (no money, no honey) is an almost perfect trifecta. Ok, the mosquitoes are ravenous. I'm out!
No comments:
Post a Comment