TMI Thursday: Are you going to eat that?

TMI Thursday

My TMI’s have been pretty lame lately; maybe I need to go get waxed again or poop my pants. *Sigh* pooping my pants…I haven’t done that since I was in diapers. Not that I’m bragging, but I’ve got that shit under control. Literally. I hope God doesn’t bitch slap me now with the swine flu H1N1 virus, leaving me curled up in my bathtub in a puddle of my own vomit and feces. Now there’s a lovely image…

h1n1

When I was younger, I had a real problem with food. Not that I had an eating disorder (I don’t possess the ability to deny myself anything for too long), but I had very definite likes and dislikes; actual food was kind of disgusting. I could notwash dishes because the thought of touching someone else’s crusty plate made me dry heave. My sister put ketchup on a bologna sandwich once and I threw up. Mayonnaise? Forget about it. I ate my sandwiches turkey sandwiches with mustard or nothing at all(well, after I got out of the peanut butter and butter sandwich phase), and my salads without dressing. And you can forget about cheese. The only foods that were allowed to touch were rice and corn (a delicious mixture–try it sometime!) and the meat/mashed potato/gravy trifecta of awesomeness. Outside of these exceptions–where the fuck do you think you’re going, broccoli? Don’t even think about touching the scalloped potatoes. You don’t want to make me angry. You wouldn’t like me when I’m angry…

My mother is a saint.

College life changed all of that. I was never a fan of cafeteria food, but a poor college student cannot live on saltines and cranberry juice alone! Well, at least this one couldn’t. Gradually my food repertoire expanded to include all manner of food produced for the masses: I even ate cafeteria fish sticks, which is pretty much the lowest of the low. After watching my suite-mate shamelessly collecting and finishing off other people’s pizza “bones” (crusts), I overcame my aversion to other people’s food and was hard pressed to find anything I couldn’t imagine as edible, given the right condiment.

Fast forward a year; I was living in Wilmington, working as a waitress at a barbecue joint. My mom and her new boyfriend (now husband) were in town on a date, and stopped in my restaurant to have dinner see me. I hadn’t yet met my mom’s boyfriend, Brian, so I was excited to see him and size him up. They came in the door looking like two twin drowned rats, having purchased matching sweat shirts from Bald Head Island after getting rained on. Desperate to impress Brian, I tried to be as jovial and friendly as possible. I walked them through the menu, brought them their food, and made sure they were enjoying everything, all the while running my mouth (probably about stupid and inappropriate things, like how Hemo’s poop had really been stinky lately, or how my neighbors ripped off our balconey railing).

My mom and Brian were slowing down, and Brian still had half a rack of ribs in front of him. “I’d hate for these to go to waste,” he mourned, “but there isn’t any way I could take these with me.”

“Oh they won’t go to waste,” I assured him. “I’ll take them to the back and we’ll eat them. I’m starving!”

“‘We’?” he asked.

“Yeah, you know…myself and the other servers. Technically, they are mine, because you guys are my table, but I don’t mind sharing.” I then went into a long disertation about the complex rules of what food was considered “safe” to eat, and what food we just dumped.

“You know, like if you could imagine yourself making out with that person, you could totally eat their leftovers. Not that I would make out with you [insert nervous laughter], but you know, you look pretty disease-free, so maybe even if I didn’t know you I’d eat these ribs. If you had, like, sores all over your lips or chewed with your mouth open–no way. That’s gross. But especially if you know the person…we have a couple of regulars, and they always leave one or two wings on a plate. We fight over them!”

It wasn’t until I saw the look on his face–a mixture of shock and disgust–that I realized that I had said too much. I had managed to gross out a man who had 3 teenage sons at home.

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16 thoughts on “TMI Thursday: Are you going to eat that?

  1. Never underestimate the willingness of a hungry server. We were like VULTURES watching for “dead food” in the window…

    I’ve never eaten so many french fries (or saltines, or baby carrots, or BURNT ANYTHING) in my life!

  2. That was definitely a good TMI! haha! I was never a server, but I was a Catering Manager for a hotel. I have seen servers fight over left overs.

    Precious commodity!

  3. Ah yes, the nervous chatter…..NEVER a good thing.

    Don’t worry, I do it too. On a regular basis.

    I love me some diarrhea of the mouth.

  4. Please tell me that you at least kept your eye on your tables to make sure they washed their hands before eating finger foods.

    Well, I did make sure wet naps were readily available.

  5. LOL! I think that’s something all servers do. I’m the same way. My food can’t touch and thinking about eating someone else’s food makes me gag, but show me a piece of chocolate cake with one bite taken out of it after working a double and no lunch break and it’s gone.

    I’m much better about food touching, now. In fact, I’m pro food-touching.

  6. Oh the joys of being a broke server/college student.

    I never had to do this… but I never judged those who did.

    I’m so glad I’m not waiting tables anymore.

  7. I’m still kind of weird about my food touching. It’s not that I won’t eat it if it does, but I like to keep distinct piles and eat one thing at a time. I’m weird.

    I’ll make sure I leave all my fries next time I eat out though.

    Are you one of those, ‘one bite of corn, one bite of potatoes, one bite of salad, repeat until finished’ type of eater? I’m fascinated.

  8. So, you’re saying that if I get a job as a waiter I get to eat for free? You may have just helped me find my calling.

    Also, that is one awesome cartoon.

    You definately get to eat for free. But it’s a catch as catch can type of situation. Beggars can’t be choosers.

    I love mixing metaphors.

  9. that was fabulous! it makes me laugh that the “behind the scenes” is always shocking to someone.

    also, i like the qualifications for choosing who to eat after.

    It’s one of those things where you know it when you see it. I’ll eat that…but not that.

  10. I’ll eat anything if I’m hungry enough. I love that this was your mother’s boyfriend.

    Somehow I didn’t scare him away…

  11. I knew it!!! Staff really does eat the leftovers! I totally would do it..I joke that I have an iron stomach! Thanks so much for stopping by blog…i love it when I see new people..hope to see you again ( hint…hint) and BTW..loving your blog!

    I love TMI Thursdays…

  12. I’m with Stoogepie…I’m going to apply at my nearest “high dollar” restaurant tomorrow! At least I know I will get the good leftovers…especially what with all the “trophy wives” trying to keep their girlish figures! Ain’t no shame in my game!

    Hell yeah. We didn’t get too many “trophy wives” (at least, not that I would consider a trophy) at the barbecue joint, but I did eat a LOT of wings.

  13. Typically, when I read your posts, I scroll down before reading to see if there are any “I Made a Picture” drawings. When I see them, I make up my own story.

    (Shut it, I’m out of work. I have to keep my mind stimulated.)

    For this one, I thought you were in a swimming pool on a yellow raft eating chocolate, and it melted.

    Boy, was I off.

    That is a much nicer backstory then the one that I came up with.

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