Thanks, Eric...
When In Doubt, Always Blame The Redhead
After several posts this summer ragging on Eric the Straight White Guy, I resolved to point my acidpen keyboard elsewhere for a while. It's fun to have a aiming point for my snark, especially one as easygoing as Eric. Sooner or later, though, a breaking point is always reached, and he'll come after me with his knife, and I *am* a large slow-moving target.
Still, I have to point the blame squarely on Eric for this weekend's chain of events. He got to talking about Indian food last week, which set the gears in motion for a weekend of surrealism and indigestion.
After reading his post on Indian food, I had to go have some. I so rarely get to go, 'cause I hate going to nice sit-down places by myself, and most of my Houston-based friends and family don't know a raita from a roti, and have no desire to learn. So, instead of getting pampered at Ashiana (and paying for the privilege, I might add) I pointed the truck towards Westheimer Ave. to go get some Indian takeout from Masala Wok.
Masala Wok is a Indian/Chinese/Pakistani fusion kind of place. Not for everyone's taste, but the food is passably good, and even better, cheap. $6-9 for entrees, $5 for appetizers. That's about half of what a decent Indian joint will cost you. I couldn't decide between the saag paneer, the chicken tikka masala or the lamb curry, so in a fit of indecision and financial frippery, I got all three, figuring on making several meals out of it. With lots of basmati rice and naan, it was a bargain for $25.
It did make several meals, too. Well, three, anyway. One at 8 pm, another around midnight, and a third at 3 am, as I pulled a late-nighter watching the last 3 Smallville DVD's. Gluttony, thy name is El Capitan.
I was feeling awful tired following the TV marathon, so I lay down, and there's where the fun began. Off into Never-Never Land, assuming Never-Never Land is run by a cartel of hallucinogen peddlers and a demonic mix of Dadaists and day-glo nihilists.
Like most of my weirdest dreams, the mundane events have already faded, in order that the bizarro happenings can remain fresh on my fevered memory. In short, I was back in an apartment. Specifically, the two-bedroom model/showroom apartment in my old apartment complex in Carrollton, TX.
My roommate was some sort of sentient wombat-looking creature, only with thick Oreo-cookie colored plush fur, done up in an almost tribal pattern of chocolate browns and snowy white. It spent its day feeding lychee fruits one at a time to a pen full of guinea pigs using a long set of bamboo tweezers. The guinea pigs would razor open the lychees with their incisors, and gnaw holes through the soft fruit to peek through before eating them.
The wombat thing suffered from severe separation anxiety, and would start to bawl uncontrollably everytime I went to leave through the front door. I'd have to pick it up and hold it, while it continued to feed the guinea pigs. This went on for God knows how long, until I woke up with a severe need to pee & find the bottle of Maalox.
I literally staggered to the john, since my legs had gone all wonky from hanging off the side of the bed with insufficient circulation. Back to bed after a couple of antacids to quell the growing fire.
The next bout with the Sandman found me once again on the losing end. This time, I'm back on that maddeningly familiar yet completely foreign college campus, trying to find the Lit course that I so rarely attended. I've heard other people have a similar recurring dreams involving college. In this one I'm walking into a classroom late in the semester, uncomfortably aware I've attended maybe 1 out of 4 sessions, and if I had any brains, I'd drop the course. I can never find the department office to get the Drop forms, and then I'm somehow on the other side of campus, outside the loading dock of some huge Student Union building I don't recognize, before wandering off into the suburbs surrounding campus. I wish I could sketch the interiors and exteriors of the campus buildings and post them, in hopes that someone will recognize the college(s) I'm seeing. I'm sure I've just seen pictures of or driven by these unfamiliar places at some point in my life, and I'm not just making it up out of whole cloth.
I tossed and turned all morning, getting up every 1-2 hours for more antacid and water. Threw off my entire weekend.
Oh, sure, I could blame myself for poor impulse control and irregular sleeping habits. But it's so much more fun to blame Eric, don't ya think?
After several posts this summer ragging on Eric the Straight White Guy, I resolved to point my acid
Still, I have to point the blame squarely on Eric for this weekend's chain of events. He got to talking about Indian food last week, which set the gears in motion for a weekend of surrealism and indigestion.
After reading his post on Indian food, I had to go have some. I so rarely get to go, 'cause I hate going to nice sit-down places by myself, and most of my Houston-based friends and family don't know a raita from a roti, and have no desire to learn. So, instead of getting pampered at Ashiana (and paying for the privilege, I might add) I pointed the truck towards Westheimer Ave. to go get some Indian takeout from Masala Wok.
Masala Wok is a Indian/Chinese/Pakistani fusion kind of place. Not for everyone's taste, but the food is passably good, and even better, cheap. $6-9 for entrees, $5 for appetizers. That's about half of what a decent Indian joint will cost you. I couldn't decide between the saag paneer, the chicken tikka masala or the lamb curry, so in a fit of indecision and financial frippery, I got all three, figuring on making several meals out of it. With lots of basmati rice and naan, it was a bargain for $25.
It did make several meals, too. Well, three, anyway. One at 8 pm, another around midnight, and a third at 3 am, as I pulled a late-nighter watching the last 3 Smallville DVD's. Gluttony, thy name is El Capitan.
I was feeling awful tired following the TV marathon, so I lay down, and there's where the fun began. Off into Never-Never Land, assuming Never-Never Land is run by a cartel of hallucinogen peddlers and a demonic mix of Dadaists and day-glo nihilists.
Like most of my weirdest dreams, the mundane events have already faded, in order that the bizarro happenings can remain fresh on my fevered memory. In short, I was back in an apartment. Specifically, the two-bedroom model/showroom apartment in my old apartment complex in Carrollton, TX.
My roommate was some sort of sentient wombat-looking creature, only with thick Oreo-cookie colored plush fur, done up in an almost tribal pattern of chocolate browns and snowy white. It spent its day feeding lychee fruits one at a time to a pen full of guinea pigs using a long set of bamboo tweezers. The guinea pigs would razor open the lychees with their incisors, and gnaw holes through the soft fruit to peek through before eating them.
The wombat thing suffered from severe separation anxiety, and would start to bawl uncontrollably everytime I went to leave through the front door. I'd have to pick it up and hold it, while it continued to feed the guinea pigs. This went on for God knows how long, until I woke up with a severe need to pee & find the bottle of Maalox.
I literally staggered to the john, since my legs had gone all wonky from hanging off the side of the bed with insufficient circulation. Back to bed after a couple of antacids to quell the growing fire.
The next bout with the Sandman found me once again on the losing end. This time, I'm back on that maddeningly familiar yet completely foreign college campus, trying to find the Lit course that I so rarely attended. I've heard other people have a similar recurring dreams involving college. In this one I'm walking into a classroom late in the semester, uncomfortably aware I've attended maybe 1 out of 4 sessions, and if I had any brains, I'd drop the course. I can never find the department office to get the Drop forms, and then I'm somehow on the other side of campus, outside the loading dock of some huge Student Union building I don't recognize, before wandering off into the suburbs surrounding campus. I wish I could sketch the interiors and exteriors of the campus buildings and post them, in hopes that someone will recognize the college(s) I'm seeing. I'm sure I've just seen pictures of or driven by these unfamiliar places at some point in my life, and I'm not just making it up out of whole cloth.
I tossed and turned all morning, getting up every 1-2 hours for more antacid and water. Threw off my entire weekend.
Oh, sure, I could blame myself for poor impulse control and irregular sleeping habits. But it's so much more fun to blame Eric, don't ya think?
posted by El Capitan | 4:15 PM
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