Neanderpundit

I love spicy food. I can’t take too much of it, because it kills my stomach, but I love to eat it. One type of particularly spicy food I had not tried, at least until a couple of weeks ago, was Indian cuisine.

So, since I had a chance to spend some time with a co-worker who was indian, and knew some nice restaurants where we were staying, I let him order for me. I had Tandoori chicken with rice and some kind of goats-milk yogurt drink.

Man, I LOVED this stuff. I had my friend order something relatively mild, so it wouldn’t kill me but it was GOOD! I liked it a lot- the chicken, especially, was great. Even the rice had a lot of flavor, something you don’t usually get in an American restaurant.

I decided, I’m going to eat a LOT more of this stuff, it was great!

Then cam the 6:05. You know, that first morning crap, the one that you hit right after waking, where you can sit, crap, piss, and read the morning paper just before the shower. I settled in to read the Click and Clack article about America’s ten ugliest cars, and then the first wave hit.

oh. my. god.

my. ass. is. on. fire.

I never felt anything like this- it wass like being sodomized by a red hot poker while flaming maggots crawled out of your ass- yes, I could physically feel each grain of semidigested rice as it exited, and it felt, well,it felt bad. At about the same time I began to sweat, and my sweat smelled like a polecat in heat. I opened the window, despite the cold, and gasped for breath, and then the aroma hit me.

I have no idea what it was that was coming out of my ass, but it sure wasn’t chicken and rice. Then, each time I thought i was done, and moved on, I ended up sitting back down again, and by the time I got through with my shower, I had been back out of the shower and on the throne several more times. By the time I was through I literally had nothing in me, i had shat every bite I had eaten the previous night, and even (by the smell) some things I hadn’t eaten in years. Hey! Where’d that White Castle come from?

Before I got to work I’d been on the john again several times at rest stops, doing the anal equivalent of dry heaves, there was just nothing else. Then, the farting started, and it was worse than the smell of burning brakes and armadillo guts. I thought they were going to chase me out of the office, and finally, I left early, stopping at a Walgreens for a big container of Tucks.

No more indian food for me.

Remember, folks, the first Postal Match is this weekend. And, every other weekend this summer. Send in those results! mhardig_at_aoldotcom

For rules, go here.

Better and brighter folks than I will always be able to take any topic and turn it into an extensive discussion, dissecting every salient point into finer and finer bits. Me, I’m a big picture guy. I stand in awe of some of the discussions in blogs, but for the most part, I prefer someone who can boil it down.

Take Einstein. e=mc^2. Simple, sweet. William of Ockham: “don’t needlessly multiply entities” (yeah, that one is a little obscure but only because of the language of the day) Porretto: “Islam is toxic to human life”. Each pretty much nutshells the idea, each wraps the totality in an easy to remember, descriptive phrase.

I don’t have a lot of patience for people who have to drag shit out and examine every aspect until it’s dead; I do it myself inside my own head, and before someone can even begin to explain something to me I’m twenty steps ahead of them. Nutshell it, and move the hell on.

This has been a source of irritation to the folks around me all my life, they begin to give me some long drawn out explanation and I stop them and continue for them: “yes, and this and that and the other thing happened, I know, but what was the end result? Nutshell it for me so I can get ON with my life!” I don’t have time for people to tell me their life stories before they get to the point. Get to the point first, if I need other details, I’ll ask for them.

Most of all, if you find someone telling you a story that is longer than it ought to be, you can pretty well guess it’s gonna be a lie. Remember your childhood?

Mom: “What happened to the glass door of the china cabinet?”
kid: “well, you remember when Aunt Daisy had that big goiter on her neck?”

You know this kid is stalling, and if he can, he’ll stall until mom forgets what he did; trouble is, she never will.

Give it to me straight, clear, honest. I’ll do the same for you. We’ll get by.