It’s all in the bones
“You look skinnier,” one of my co-workers said. I had just arrived at the office and “POW,” in my face. Cream pie, yum. It amazes me when someone comments on how I look when they greet me. I don’t understand it and never will. “Yo, Unknown. Hey, is that a new mole on your neck? I hadn’t noticed it before. It’s gotta be a centimeter in diameter. Wow, look at the curly hair coming out of your left ear. Oh my. And look at that nasty looking suit. Is that lice?”
I’ve heard comments about my weight my entire life. They used to throw me into a tailspin and send me to the vitamin store for a jumbo can of weight gain powder. Now they don’t bother me as much because my skin is elephant-thick. And my scale screams when I step on it these days. But sometimes people say “thinner” because of my CF bones and the look CF etches on my face. What my co-worker probably meant to say is “you look sick in the face,” which makes me think a bag over my head at work would be a good idea. But later that night, when another coworker told me I was looking well, I got confused. Does anyone else get this many comments about their looks? Supermodels need not answer.
Don’t pick up the phone when he calls
Why does every local work dinner I go to culminate in a trip to Benihana? What is the allure of the place? Instead of my thoughts on it tonight, let’s hear what Stacey of Confessions of a Cyster thinks of Benihana. She gave me specific instructions to give her credit (in a funny, charming way like only Stacey can do).
You have to constantly act impressed with the stupid knife-slinging show…then ohh and ahh at the onion volcano. Seriously, how many onion volcanos do you really have to see in one lifetime. All this while trying to avoid being in the path the one time they slip up. Oops, everybody makes mistakes, right?
Exactly, Stacey. You’re right on. Nothing spoils a good night out like a hibachi knife to the chest.
The food was good, but the applause for tossing a few shrimp tails into a hat was non-existent. Suggestion for improvement to the Chef: toss a few flaming shrimp tails in your paper hat, let it catch fire, and run screaming from the restaurant, knocking over the lucky kitty and aquarium as you go. That will earn you the standing O you used to receive in the 1970s when your table was filled with onion-volcano virgins.
I did, however, think Benihana would benefit from Stacey’s constructive feedback. So, I emailed her blog site and home phone number to the Head Chef at Benihana. (Stacey, he wrote back and said he’d like to make you dinner one night. You’re welcome. Enjoy. Your pal, UC.)
Stay happy and wear a Kevlar vest when eating out.