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Wednesday, Jan. 23, 2002 / 7:10 p.m. ~I Choose to Remain an Enigma~ Oh, I almost forgot to mention, I won the Big Game Lottery last night. I pick up my check for $9 million on Friday. Of course I'll owe taxes, roughly half of my winnings will be given to the US government. I'll be heading to the Chrysler dealership first, to test drive a PT Cruiser, see if it's really what I want, or if it's just fun to look at. If I'm not crazy about it I'll just cross the street to the Toyota dealership and buy the most fuel-efficient (and fully loaded) vehicle on the lot. I'm thinking sun/moon roof, CD player, surround sound, stuff like that. Maybe that will be second. Not first. First, I'll go in to work, clean out my filing cabinet, take down my pics of the girls, erase anything fun and personal from my hard drive, and once I'm ready to go, well, I'll say something trite like, "Take this job and shove it". Or, "Fuck you all royally, it's been hell knowin' ya, put my check in the mail, eh?". You know, something kicky and fun, nasty, but not too. Then, the trip to the car dealership. This is all up in the air though. Especially since I didn't really win. That sort of postpones things a bit. Dang it, I had something else I wanted to write, and now I can't remember at all. Maybe it was about the Banquet frozen dinner I just ate, or as we used to call them, "TV dinnner". It was country fried "steak", corn and mashed potatoes, and I mixed it all together in the largest depression in the plastic tray. Mixed, smooshed together, yum, yum, fucking yum! Hey, I grew up on food like that. My mom worked nights when I was a kid and she would leave us with Swanson chicken pot pies, or TV dinners, and they were always such a treat. Maybe there were nights when we had Arroz Con Pollo or something, I don't remember, but I preferred the food that came in the tray. You know how when you're a kid you don't really like complex flavors, you prefer straight salt or sugar. No capers or cilantro. Now I love capers and cilantro. I remember hating them. And it's not that my mom was a horrible mother, au contraire, but I do have a fond memory of hearing that we could have TV dinners for dinner, and being really, really excited about that. In later years, when it was just my mom and me, we had salad every night, and we sat at the table, kitchen, dining, whatever, we sat, and we had relatively "whole" meals. Always a salad with whatever "entree". By the time I was 15 I was making kick ass salads! When I was 19, and decided to become a vegetarian, I made elaborate salads with leaf lettuce, tofu, olives, celery, bell peppers, mushrooms, green onions, cheese sometimes, everything but the proverbial kitchen sink. They were meals in themselves, they took forever just to chew, lots of crunching involved. I'd gorge myself on these salads, and follow recipes from the New York Times Vegetarian Cookbook for things like meatless stroganoff made with soybeans. Yuck! My vegetarianism didn't last. But I did make ratatouille once. I tried to be a veg-head. I remember explaining myself to an animal rights activist once, saying, "But, you see, I love pork, bacon, Italian sausage, any sausage, hot dogs, love, love, love, couldn't stay away!" and she got really mad at me, told me I could live without it if I tried. No, sorry. Moby is really adamant about his veganism. He's vegan, not vegetarian. But what I want to ask him is why is it okay for animals to eat animals, but it's not okay for humans to eat animals? Factory farming is an abomination, and everyone should make the effort to find and purchase organic, free range meats, yeah, but is eating animals in itself 'wrong'? Would you deny a lion his wildebeest? Hmmmm...Sure, sure, if I had to slaughter my own, yeah, I'd join you, we could have huge salads together, but come on, it's there, if I stop eating it it won't erase the problem. Learning about modern American farming practices might..... Another Moby thing I wanted to mention is an entry of his from last week wherein he is upset that someone misunderstood him joking about biting a cat that bit him. He patted a feral cat by a dumpster somewhere in Manhattan, the cat bit him, the wound became infected and painful, he had to go to the Emergency Room, etc., and he joked that if he saw the cat again he'd bite it, or something. Some new person went to the message boards and complained about his anti-animal, or anti-cat perspective. But Moby is THE BIGGEST animal lover you will find. So it was annoying for him to be so misunderstood by this new person to his site.......I found this analogy appropriate for me because of the new person who read a bunch of my diary and has decided that EVERY one of my entries is bleak and dreary. I could eat another Banquet Chicken Fried "Steak" (my quotation marks, not theirs) Meal! Or TWO! Mmmmm..... See how complex I am, I am eating Thai Fresh Ginger Beef and Garlic Pepper Tofu one night and a TV dinner the next, and both satisfy me, in different ways. I choose to remain an enigma. Insert smiley emoticon here. Cost of the War in Iraq
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