Tag Archives: Chinese buffet

Buffet

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Buffet: (n) a meal consisting of several dishes from which guests serve themselves.

When you take the time to sort out all the lies, half-truths, misinformation and even fake news, what remainsDictionary B is the truth. It’s a little dusty from being ignored, and even a bit stained from some stinky neighbors, but it’s still the truth.

Here’s one of them: fat people should not frequent “all you can eat” buffets.

Even though a majority of the population of China is slender, if you find yourself at a Chinese buffet, you will not see anyone who is not fat. You may say to yourself, “That’s an exaggeration.”

But just go–look around. And make sure there’s a mirror nearby.

Once Chinese food has been Americanized with sodium, sugar, flour and frying, it loses all its capability to make you a skinny-ass Chinaman.

You see what I mean?

Certainly there are individual dishes at Chinese buffets which are lower in calories than others, but usually they’re ignored, like your younger sister who has a little bit of a mustache.

From time to time, I go on stints of fevered and passionate weight loss. Certain foods need to be memories–hopefully not too fond, or I may return for a reunion.

But one place I definitely cannot frequent is a Chinese buffet, where I pretend to count calories in food that contains many secrets…hidden behind the Great Wall of recipes.

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Billboard

Billboard: (n) a large outdoor board for displaying advertisements.

Dictionary B

I am gradually learning to be reluctant to assume that my common practices or inclinations are universal across our species.

It is a natural posture we tend to take when justifying our feelings to make ourselves a part of the mass instead of separated like the math nerd from high school who’s too skinny and has pimples.

So I will phrase it this way: I read billboards.

I don’t know why. Probably because driving on the highway, I am a prisoner to the miles. And even though I may be listening to the radio or having a great conversation, 5,280 feet, which makes up only one mile, can still be a long way.

So I’m grateful for the reading material along the side of the road which fortunately is set in a large enough font for me to discern.

I read ’em all.

So I’m not so sure that television advertising always works with me. I have heard many commercials on radio and never given them a second thought.

But I have often stopped at a Chinese buffet advertised on a billboard, which was only five miles ahead, finding myself more and more excited as I speeded toward it.

I’ve gotten good deals on motels.

I have occasionally found an inspirational message.

There are folks who consider billboards to be an eyesore, but I do not believe anyone can claim that they’re ineffective. In the course of a single day on an average freeway in America, tens of thousands of people pass by and at least have to glance up and see the promo.

It is very effective–at least with me.

And I don’t even think they’re ugly, even though the ones in Kentucky that say “Hell Is Real” may totally and completely disprove my assertion.

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Beagle

Beagle: (n) a small sturdy hound with a coat of medium length, bred especially for hunting.Dictionary B

Shall we discuss the word “rescue?”

For you see, when people tell me that I should get all my pets from “Rescues,” I must remind myself that these creatures have been salvaged from dire straits.

Therefore, since they do possess a brain, they just might have memories of being dangled over the flames of hell.

So when my young son wanted to get a dog, we went to the local Rescue, stepped behind the desk where they keep all the animals in cages, and were suddenly confronted with a collage of confused, frustrated, angry and sometimes even half-starved dogs crawling over one another to gain favor of this most recent human entering the room.

I suggested to my son that he pick one in the corner, who was not quite so survival-minded and seemed to have a sweeter temperament. Unfortunately, we found out that the reason this particular pooch was so silent ended up being that he was near death’s door.

But we nursed him back to health.

He really was a mutt, but the breed he most closely resembled was a beagle. We were pretty sure he would never get too large–except the other unknown portions of him did not know he was supposed to remain small.

So we ended up with a midsized dog who obviously had some brain damage from the trauma he had experienced, and therefore was a little cranky with strangers, while also picking up the personality and goofiness of our clan.

Even to this day, if you mention his name, there will be a split vote in the family on whether he was Snoopy or the Hound of Hell.

He didn’t care.

He had opinions on everything, similar to an old man at a Chinese buffet. But in his own way, he lived a full life of sixteen years before wandering away and apparently forgetting where he left his keys.

One of my favorite memories of that unique creation was his “hidden hound.” Even though I think he aspired to be a full beagle, if you began to howl like you were wailing at the moon, in no time at all, he would join you with a most baleful rendition.

He fought it.

He tried to pretend he didn’t understand, but always ended up with a bit of Southern heritage, barking at the air.

The dog’s name was Madez, and in honor of him, I will place this essay under the title of…”Beagle.”

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