Friday, January 26, 2007


That's what I call my fingers. Clever! And another thing: I think that eating with one's fingers is both one of the more disgusting and more enjoyable of life's small pleasures. It's messy and undainty (although, when I do it, it's VERY dainty) and potentially unhygienic but it FEELS SO GOOD. And: you can do it in public.

Today at work, due to my incessant goading, we had a pizza party. I'm full of good ideas, and a Friday pizza party to reward our "hard work" was one of them. Management complied. My other good idea was that the pizza party should include buffalo wings. Again, management complied. More than my professional talents, I think this might be the reason they continue to hire me; nobody goes hungry when I'm around!

I ignored the pizza, courtesy of Fat Sal's (great name, but redundant. ALL Sal's are fatties, right?), and went straight for the wings. They were acceptable: spicy, meaty, bright orange, but that's not really the important part. Or: how they tasted is less interesting than how they were consumed.

I had a really tough time maintaining my world-famous demure femininity while I ate these wings. I was a lady in that I only put three little pieces on my plate at a time, and I chose the drumsticks so that at least I'd have a literal handle on the situation. But as I bit down and ripped the meat from the bone, all decorum was lost. Immediately, I became an awkward meat-eating monkey with hot sauce on my lips. Which doesn't really telegraph wherewithal and competence, two things I think are valued in a work environment. So even though I care about The Forests I ended up using one's worth of trees in napkins over the course of six little chicken wings. I just didn't want to have a saucy face in front of my co-workers! So I'd bite and wipe and wipe and bite and chew and wipe and bite and chew and wipe and this went on for about 15 minutes before I gave up. Also: I was full.

Had I been alone, of course, things would have been much different. For one, I wouldn't have had the wings. Because I'm not into giving myself private pizza and chicken parties. But more than that, I wouldn't have felt the unnecessary self-consciousness that I felt at lunch today. I would have licked my own hands rather than wiped them on napkins (God's Cutlery is also God's Salt Lick). I might have been more profligate with the blue cheese dressing; instead, I was reserved. But: it's okay. I got through it alright. Next time I'm suggesting taco day!


Blogger Keir said...

Group pizza-eating is automatically a party. The reason pizza is so bad in Europe is that no one understands this simple fact.

PS: Not all Sals are fat.

8:01 AM  

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