This is a review I just read online for a decent but extremely greasy take out chinese food restaraunt in my city... Random but hilarious
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This place is like that old booty call that you can't bring yourself to get rid of because the small virtues they *do* have at least partially make up for their lack of offering up anything stellar.
It seems a strange comparison to make, but consider the following scenario:
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You've just gotten home, later than you expected. You're tired and annoyed, but you have a biological NEED that just MUST be fulfilled, and at that moment you're willing to sacrifice quality for quickness and convenience.
So you debate and debate and debate. You don't want to make that call yet AGAIN... but you find yourself picking up the phone anyway, glad that you're alone with nobody else around as a witness. You've definitely had better; but you've also had WAY worse... and there's something strangely comforting in knowing that in this case, at least things are always consistent. Simply put, you know your needs will be met.
You nervously call, and then on the other end, they answer, and things are immediately okay. They're cheerful, eager and willing, and most importantly, nonjudgmental: they know exactly why you're calling, and they're okay with that, even though you haven't called in a long time. You tell them exactly what you need tonight, and they say they'll be right over.
Fifteen minutes later, the doorbell rings. You quickly and sheepishly let them in-- hoping none of your neighbors see you-- and then you get down to business IMMEDIATELY, tearing through any sort of token covering that is in your way. By now, you're in the thick of it, and your normal self-restraint is in the same far-off place that your normal good judgment had already gone to.
You go at it with a surprising fervor. There is nothing elegant or refined about it-- it's unapologetically down and dirty and greasy. And even though you're feeling kind of dirty and slimy, and you know that it could be WAY better, you can't help yourself because it just feels SO. DAMN. GOOD. Each passing moment brings both increased satiation, but also increased guilt. Until finally, you reach that sweet spot at the center of those two conflicting thoughts... and you're done.
You quickly toss it out because you just KNOW it will be way worse if you let it stick around until tomorrow.
And there you sit, spent, wallowing in your own self-inflicted mess of happiness and guilt and self-annoyance. You're not perfect-- you try your best, but sometimes biology just takes over. But you quickly reach self-acceptance with what you've done, because both parties knew the score, both were game, and nobody got hurt. But you do make a tacit note-to-self to not call them again. And you know, with absolute certainty, that you won't.
Until the next time you feel that *need* welling up inside you.
************
This place is like that old booty call that you can't bring yourself to get rid of because the small virtues they *do* have at least partially make up for their lack of offering up anything stellar.
It seems a strange comparison to make, but consider the following scenario:
----------------
You've just gotten home, later than you expected. You're tired and annoyed, but you have a biological NEED that just MUST be fulfilled, and at that moment you're willing to sacrifice quality for quickness and convenience.
So you debate and debate and debate. You don't want to make that call yet AGAIN... but you find yourself picking up the phone anyway, glad that you're alone with nobody else around as a witness. You've definitely had better; but you've also had WAY worse... and there's something strangely comforting in knowing that in this case, at least things are always consistent. Simply put, you know your needs will be met.
You nervously call, and then on the other end, they answer, and things are immediately okay. They're cheerful, eager and willing, and most importantly, nonjudgmental: they know exactly why you're calling, and they're okay with that, even though you haven't called in a long time. You tell them exactly what you need tonight, and they say they'll be right over.
Fifteen minutes later, the doorbell rings. You quickly and sheepishly let them in-- hoping none of your neighbors see you-- and then you get down to business IMMEDIATELY, tearing through any sort of token covering that is in your way. By now, you're in the thick of it, and your normal self-restraint is in the same far-off place that your normal good judgment had already gone to.
You go at it with a surprising fervor. There is nothing elegant or refined about it-- it's unapologetically down and dirty and greasy. And even though you're feeling kind of dirty and slimy, and you know that it could be WAY better, you can't help yourself because it just feels SO. DAMN. GOOD. Each passing moment brings both increased satiation, but also increased guilt. Until finally, you reach that sweet spot at the center of those two conflicting thoughts... and you're done.
You quickly toss it out because you just KNOW it will be way worse if you let it stick around until tomorrow.
And there you sit, spent, wallowing in your own self-inflicted mess of happiness and guilt and self-annoyance. You're not perfect-- you try your best, but sometimes biology just takes over. But you quickly reach self-acceptance with what you've done, because both parties knew the score, both were game, and nobody got hurt. But you do make a tacit note-to-self to not call them again. And you know, with absolute certainty, that you won't.
Until the next time you feel that *need* welling up inside you.
