Tuesday, January 10

Ode To China Buffet

Oh, China Buffet, How I Love Thee.

Where else can I dine on fried prawn phlegm, oyster plum sperm, and shag carpet broccoli?

Where else can I play Guess the Beast You're Eating? Is it pork? Is it penguin? Is it zebra? Is it pork-in-bra?

Where else can I enjoy a pot of hot green tea disguised as a broken vessel of lukewarm tan pond water?

Where else can I stand in line next to a woman whose butt is bigger than her car, and whose chest is bigger than her butt? And whose plate of food is bigger than all three?

Where else can I dodge small foreign children on the floor playing with chicken bones?

Where else can I see the entire state of West Virginia celebrate a wedding rehearsal dinner?

Where else can kimono dolls, sushi, and tempura be considered Chinese?

Where else can ambient music be that special muzak rendition of Staind's cover of Air Supply's Beer Barrel Polka, as interpreted by the Inuit?

Where else can I crack open dessert and find my fortune, which reads "Behind an able man, there are always."?

Oh, yes, China Buffet, How I Love Thee.

p.s. Thanks for the food poisoning.