By The Wiz
First of all, you know how I feel about syrup, right? It’s right up there with cilantro in nastiness. I am AWARE that I’m possibly the only person on the planet that hates it. I KNOW. I still hate it. Also, anything connected to syrup gets my gag reflexes going. Waffles and pancakes are chief among them, but if you put french toast in front of me, I won’t touch it, even if I haven’t eaten in 24 hours. (I know this, since it was my first meal in the hospital when I got diagnosed with diabetes, and they wouldn’t let me eat for a day, telling me the fluids should take care of the hunger - shah! - and then finally they brought me a meal of french toast, and I was literally starving, and I could.not.eat.it.)
I KNOW I can get waffles with strawberries or whipped cream or whatever. I can’t get the fact that it’s supposed to be syrup out of my brain, and my taste buds rebel. I will now steal a line from Boomama, since it aptly applies to me, that I have never claimed to be reasonable and/or rational.
Anyway, my friend has been putting up facebook status updates promoting a certain restaurant’s grand opening. The restaurant has many options, but it specializes in chicken and waffles. I do not, nor have I ever, understood this combination, but hey, whatever floats your boat. She’s promoting it mainly because her friends are doing it. I hope it does well, especially in this economy.
Anyway, I put up a little comment to the effect of “You know waffles are gross, right?” This is my FRIEND. She knows I hate them, she’s known me for years. We used to do midnight runs to Dee’s and/or Denny’s, for heaven’s sake.
I get a message from somebody I don’t know asking me to please take down my comment, as they are trying to get people to go to the grand opening, and I might dissuade them. I’m kind of touched that she thinks I have so much power, actually.
So, here comes the lame part. I actually held a little debate in my head about what to do with my throwaway comment. It went a little something like this:
“It would be considerate to take it down.”
“If I take it down it shows I have no backbone. I’ve been working on backbone.”
“She’s just trying to promote her restaurant.”
“I can declare my hatred for waffles anywere, anytime! Strangers, even ones opening restaurants, do not have the right to tell me what to do. I have my freedom of speech!”
And then a third part of my brain walked away, sadly shaking its head, because truly, does anything deserve less energy than how a random stranger feels about a random comment on facebook? I was seriously dragging the first amendment into it? It has undeniably demonstrated something I have suspected for some time now:
I HAVE NO LIFE. This is deeply, deeply depressing. How does one go about getting a life, exactly?
Please help me.
(P.S. The title refers to a song in the Simpson’s episode that spoofs Evita. See how lame I am?)
(P.P.S. If you need to know the fate of the comment - My friend replied to it, obviously unaware that I had been asked to take it down, telling me how awesome THESE waffles were, syrup optional, and I told her I’d meet her there for an omelet next time I was in town. Is my backbone intact? Why do I care?)
(P.P.S.S I mean lame, as in dissatisfactory, not lame, as in disabled. Don’t throw rocks at me.)
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