Side salads

I happen to be pretty big on salad. I just love the taste of assorted fresh vegetables perfectly coated in a flavorful dressing, sometimes graced with a light sprinkling of croutons or bacon bits to truly titillate my taste buds. The thing about salad, though, is that it doesn’t always allow me to achieve that “comfortably full” feeling I like to get when I go out to dinner. Therefore, I usually have to opt for a more substantial main course and get my salad fix on the side – a solution that presents its own share of issues.

See, the problem with side salads is that these days, most restaurants think that it’s okay to slap a little plate down in front of you filled with nothing more than iceberg lettuce covered in mounds of dressing with a sad little token cherry tomato on the side. Sometimes, if they’re feeling generous, they’ll also throw in an old, wilted, paper-thin slice of cucumber, two croutons, and a few centimeters’ worth of shredded carrot mush to make the plate look more colorful and pretty.

Really, is it so unreasonable to expect that a side salad actually consist of these things called “assorted vegetables?” I’m not asking for anything crazy like broccoli florets or butternut squash, but how about a few pieces of green pepper mixed in with a slice of onion or two? Or, how about giving me more than that one cherry tomato, or, better yet, throwing in a bunch of cucumber slices? Cucumbers, at bulk rate prices, come out to about seventeen cents per cucumber, and considering that you’re charging five bucks for that side salad, it wouldn’t hurt you to include a little something extra for me to crunch on.

Oh, and what’s up with that pathetic pair of croutons? Can I please point out that croutons are usually made out of old bread that’s about to go bad? In other words, I think you guys at the salad station could afford to be just a tad more generous with your fried bits of leftover soon-to-be mold.

Finally, I would appreciate it from both an intellectual and cardiac standpoint if you people on salad prep duty would stop trying to mask the obvious lack of produce by smothering the plate in heaps of dressing so dense that you might as well serve it with a spoon and call it “salad bisque.” As delicious as certain salad dressings might be, I’d rather that the majority of my caloric intake for the day not be derived from condiments.

When it comes down to it, I think that the side salad truly makes a statement as to how much a restaurant values and respects its customers, so the more vegetables on that plate, the more likely I am to come back. Of course, there’s always the option of simply eating salad at home…but if I did that, then I’d have one less thing to complain about, and I wouldn’t want to risk growing complacent and losing my edge.

Technology

The worst part of technology, in my not so humble opinion, is that the more advanced it seems to get, the more attitude it tends to give you. Case in point: just the other day, I was leaving somebody a voicemail when the stupid system cut me off mid-message. Not wanting to sound like an idiot by only leaving half a message, I selected the option to record a new message, to which the system bitch replied “to re-record your voice message, start speaking at the tone” – as if to say, “because you’re an idiot who screwed this up the first time around, I now have to be burdened with recording your message again.”

I’ll admit it: that nasty tone really pissed me off. It’s bad enough that I get attitude from GPS every time I make a wrong turn, but now the voicemail lady is giving me crap for wanting to leave a message that doesn’t end in the middle of a word? And the best part: the voicemail bitch was the one who cut me off in the first place. It’s not like I decided to randomly just stop talking. No, bitch, you cut me off, so not only should you not be giving me attitude about leaving a new message, you should actually be programmed to say something along the lines of “if you’d like to re-record your message because I am a dumb bitch who ran out of patience, then start speaking at the tone.”

Maybe I’m way off here, but shouldn’t technology serve to make our lives easier and not frustrate the piss out of us? And with that, I’ve got some phone calls to make. Wish me luck.

Warnings

The other day, I was taking a look at the laundry instructions for one of my jackets when I noticed that right under the "machine wash warm" section was a little note that said "Warning: do not attempt to set on fire."

Is it me, or is a warning like that really kind of unnecessary? I mean, I get that the material of the jacket might be especially flammable, but shouldn't it go without saying that setting the jacket on fire is a bad idea? Maybe I'm an exception to the public's usual line of thinking, but my general assumption when dealing with items other than matches and candles is "do not set this on fire."

If you're going to start printing fire warnings on certain clothing items, then you might as well add a caveat on pretty much every item one could purchase.

"Lighting this DVD on fire might result in an unclear picture when played."

Or

"Caution: fire might cause this telephone to melt."

I guess it saddens me a bit to see how little faith some of these companies have in the general intelligence of the public that they would go so far as to warn people not to ignite their own clothing.

On the other hand, I can't say that I blame them. Ever since that landmark case of the idiot woman winning millions from McDonald's for spilling hot coffee all over her crotch and subsequently getting burned, every "to go" cup in the country now sports the statement "warning: the beverage you are about to enjoy is extremely hot." Why wouldn't a jeans company take the next logical step to print "do not set on fire," or, better yet, "not a substitute for a cup holder" right smack in the middle of the crotch seam?

Anyway, I hope you've all enjoyed reading this, but I do feel the need to warn you that you should not attempt to set this blog on fire no matter how terrible you think the content might be. Setting your computer screen on fire can cause significant damage to your machine and will, incidentally, in no way effect this blog. Also, the opinions contained in this blog in no way represent the company that supports this web site or the makers of the computer on which I type up my thoughts. You should talk to your doctor before reading this blog, as side effects might include eye-rolling, fist banging, and, if I'm doing my job properly, uncontrollable laughter resulting in a brief but manageable loss of sensibility. I think that just about covers it all.

100% chance of precipitation

What’s up with all of the online weather sites and their doomsday forecast trends? Lately it seems like every time it’s supposed to rain for more than a couple of hours, the forecast calls for a “100% chance of precipitation” during the time period in question. Now I’m all about proper warnings when it comes to rain, but really, a 100% chance of precipitation?” In other words, you’re saying that you are so confident that it’s going to rain that you refuse to acknowledge even the minute possibility that maybe, just maybe, it might not rain when you say it will?

You really have to wonder why these people put themselves out there to the extent of locking in their predictions so very tightly. See, when you say that something is “100% going to happen,” you sort of cross that line between prediction and absolute statement…and given that weather folk are often times mocked and criticized for their inability to provide accurate forecast information, it makes little sense for them to commit to something as unambiguous as “100%.”

Maybe I’m reading into this a bit too much and reacting rather harshly, but there’s just something about seeing that there’s a 100% chance of rain in the near future that really bums the heck out of me. And as much as I usually tend to take the weather forecast with that proverbial grain of salt, when I see that “100%” on my computer screen under the taunting rain cloud image, I immediately start preparing for the feeling of rain streaming over my flip flops, causing me to do the rather uncomfortable “slip and squeak” all the way home.

I suppose the situation wouldn’t be all that different if they were to downgrade that 100 to a less definitive 99, and I’d be sure to pack an umbrella either way…Maybe it’s the lack of hope inherent in that 100% to which I’m rather hesitant to submit; or maybe it’s the fact that these people are way too confident for their own good. Come to think of it, it’s probably a 100% combination of both.

Gum

I happen to really hate gum. However, what I happen to hate even more is people who think that it is perfectly acceptable to dispose of their chewed gum by spitting it out onto the nearest patch of sidewalk for people to step on instead of throwing it out in those things called garbage cans, which, conveniently enough, tend to be located at just about every corner throughout the wonderful city of Hoboken.

Now at this point you’re probably thinking “oh, I guess she stepped in gum.”

No, I wish I would’ve stepped in gum as an alternative to what really happened, which is as follows: my dog stepped in gum.

Unfortunately, the thing about dogs is that when they step in gum, they don’t realize it, and so they continue to walk around with gum embedded in their paws until it gets so absolutely and utterly worked in that removing it becomes a long, painful process. That’s right – yesterday I spent approximately half an hour trying to remove a giant wad of gum from my dog’s paw. From yanking to cutting to using my fingernails, I spent thirty minutes getting most – not even all – of the gum off of my little guy, during which he was, for the most part, in pain. Why? Because when you’re a dog, it hurts to have your doggie hair pulled and your doggie skin tugged at in order to remove a mega-wad of gum.

Now you might ask “why remove the gum? Sure, it’s gross, but can’t you just leave it in there and spare him the pain of removal?”

To this, I answer: no. No, leaving the gum in his paw was not an option for several reasons. First, I don’t want my dog getting sick in an attempt to eat the previously-chewed gum out of his paw. Second, and most importantly, here’s what happens when you’re a dog and you’ve got gum stuck in your paw: as you prance around town and step on things such as little rocks and twigs, the gum causes those items to also become embedded in your paw, thereby creating the experience of stepping down on a sharp rock or pointy twig every time you take a little doggie step. So no, leaving the gum in was not an option, as doing so would’ve only prolonged my little guy’s pain.

The moral of this not so great story is to let it be a lesson to all of you gum chewers who think that it’s just fine to place your nasty, sticky gum right down on the sidewalk once you’re done with it. It’s not fine. It’s actually the opposite of fine; it’s rude, nasty, and just plain mean. Forget about the inconvenience of having to remove gum from the souls of your sneakers…we’re talking about innocent little dogs stepping in gum and having that gum cause them pain. I don’t care if you have to repeatedly chew that flavorless wad of gunky crap until you find a trash can: do not put your gum on the sidewalk.

If you’re a gum chewer and I still haven’t convinced you, then think about this: when I go walking with my dog, I also have the ability to leave something undesirable on the ground. How’d you like it if you were to step in that? Better yet, how’d you like it if you were to step in that barefoot? Think about it. Think harder. Now promise to always throw your gum away.

My dog, for the record, is recovering quite nicely. His paw is probably still a little sore from the rock dents and gum removal process, but mentally, he’s over it. Once I gave him some bacon treats, he totally forgot the whole thing. What a trooper.