R4ndom R4nts

by The Wandering Wasabe Wayfarer

Potlucks Aren’t For Single People

Whoever thinks up potluck events is willing waging unilateral injustice on the feelings of single people everywhere. It is entirely a horrible idea to postpone the time of the party so that the single people can all make food at home alone, prior to the festivities. I have enough time to wallow in my personal pool of social decrepitude at all other times in the day, please do not throw a party, an occasion ostensibly for fun, that which will just remind me of this fact.

Authentic Recipe for Weeping Fried Rice (guaranteed to deaden the palette and open the floodgates!)

Stir fry the following ingredients in a large frying pan:

• Rice;
  
• scrambled egg;
  
• green onion;
  
• peas/carrots and or mushrooms;
  
• chopped lettuce; and
  
• an exquisite slab of prime rib de boeuf au jus. This is the splitting heart of Weeping Fried Rice. It must be lovingly prepared in a mammoth, minimum 24 ounce portion by suburban manor steakhouse, and cost no less than $38 before tax. It must go untouched for 3 days, stored carefully in the refrigerator, and be dotingly fantasized upon on numerous occasions, but be declared unfit during this period because the “timing is not quite right”. It must be dreamt of for no less than 3 hours immediately prior to consumption, specifically of how momentously tasty a huge chunk of seasoned meat grilled to perfection, reheated in an oven at 375 degrees would be. Finally, mere minutes before you awaken for your meal, your sister must find the mass of meaty perfection and decide that it is fitting for her fried rice, a meal traditionally prepared with forgotten leftovers. You may enter as she is pouring the diced meat into the wok, ensuring that this will be the most expensive fried rice plate on the planet. Don’t worry, the flavour of the beef will not only be obscured by the above ingredients, but mostly just fried away!
  

Now sob to your heart’s content.

Rude, Uncool People

Somewhere along the line, people lost all their manners. At some age, likely shortly after puberty, all rational thought and brotherly love flees the body, giving way to selfish concern and mob mentality. The older one gets, the more prominent the effect, magnified as it is by the feeling that one has put in one’s dues, and hence deserves preferential treatment. I am speaking, of course, of boarding public transit.

Since when do people have to be so anxious to get on the subway car or bus that they must shove their way around? The most frustrating is when they force themselves onto the subway while other people are still trying to get off. I spare no evil eye for these people, often giving them two.

The bus is particularly interesting, because they will sometimes maintain a semblance of order by lining up. If, however, the bus stops anywhere outside of the anticipated location, there is a mob rush for the doors. Thankfully, I can hang back and wait, since these people only fight over the seats at the front anyway, somehow having forgotten that the cool seats are at the back.

Angry r4nts over. Continue usual broadcast.

The Wandering Wasabe Wayfarer