While I do enjoy the many entrees served by the cafeteria as well as the meals provided by my foreign exchange family, I find myself longing for the dishes of my home country of India.
I think that a twice weekly Indian option at lunch time would be a fun, tasty way to Introduce my adopted school to the diverse cultures of India. Can you help me find a way to implement this? What are the proper channels I should go through to encourage the school cafeteria to offer Indian food at lunch?
Let me start off by admonishing the student body to never incorporate the word “succulent” into any future correspondence with Uncle Creepy. My therapist thinks that this is one of my trigger words and may invoke inappropriate thoughts or actions.
Listen, I realize that this is supposed to be an anonymous forum but I know that this is you, Biswajit. Why on earth would you want to do this to your fellow students? No self respecting, God fearing, seal clubbing American wants to partake in the delicacies offered up by your country of origin.
The dining experience is not only flavor, Biswajit, but appearance and fragrance as well. All traits which are non-existent with Indian fare. Next to getting a catheter threaded up the wiener, eating Indian food is one of man’s worst primordial fears. In fact, it’s featured as one of the dares on the popular TV show “Fear Factor”.
I was subjected to the many gastric disturbances of India several years ago and my sphincter is still recovering. After weeks of nagging the really hot chick at the office, she finally succumbed to my charms. I thought I would be gracious enough to let her select the restaurant for our first date since there would be be furious dry humping later in the evening.
Big mistake. The closest we got to any kind of romance involved passing the toilet paper back and forth under the toilet partitions in the Walmart restroom as the contents of our digestive system were being expelled through both orifices.
My first clue to the evenings horrifying end should have been the fact that each dish looked as if someone either vomited or pooped onto a plate of rice.
At least I think it was rice. The “rice” appeared to be dancing and squirming on my plate. However, this may have been hallucinations induced by the scorching dipping sauce served with the aptly named appetizer “Through The Looking Glass”. This culinary delight had the texture of deep fried toilet paper and only half of the flavor.
You may be familiar with the aforementioned vomit entree called Chicken Up Chutney as well as the Pittsburgh platter of the far east, Turrd Tandoori. The rest of the evening was a blur of searing abdominal cramps and a seemingly endless parade of scorching hot bowel movements, thereby ruining any chances of scoring with the office paramour. Thanks Indian food. But I digress…
So why alienate yourself from society by consuming sauces made from the savory soup at the bottom of garbage cans when there is so much delicious food right here in the good ole U S of A! Nutritious and delicious foods such as deep fried snickers, bologna sandwiches - which are made from normal American spices and the tasty lips and assholes of pigs and cows. And last but certainly not least - freedom fries!
After 3 months of American cuisine, the pungent odor of curry, garlic, chili paste, and God knows what other horrifying smells have finally been eliminated from your body through your tortured sweat glands. Haven’t you noticed that the kids on the bus no longer ride to school with their heads out the window like a Labrador Retriever out on a Sunday drive?
You’re finally making friends, Biswajit, so let’s not piss everyone off and blow your chances at a life outside of a call center in Mumbai, or a U.S. IT department located near the buildings slop sink so that no one else has to endure the smell?
I say you float this idea down the river Ganges along with the rest of the sewage and corpses that your people dump into their bath water. You hit the lottery and made it to the land of opportunity. Time to let go of the past and assimilate. Because when you assimilate, you make an ass out of imi and late. And I’ma late for my next therapy session.