The Highway Buffet

I dedicate this post to my girl Lulu. Of course, it is not because I want to send such naughty vibes (what, with her being with child and all), it is just that she has recently posted several blog entries about bumper stickers and things that she has seen on cars.

Anyhow, I was driving home from the Hill the other day, minding my own business, quietly thinking about Jesus . . . and then my virgin eyes were shocked and transfixed on the truck in front of me. The large, flatbed truck had a giant mudflap running across the back of it. On this flap was a picture of 2 giant . . . er, man oysters? Accompanying this giant faux anatomy was the phrase: "All you can eat."

How nice.

And no, Lulu, I did not see a "Bush-Cheney" bumper sticker nearby, though I was certainly expecting it.

As a side note, I have seen similar things on TV or the Internet, with large metal berries hanging from the rear bumper (sounds dirtier than it is) or chrome stones in the place of a traditional hitch. I had not, however, seen the magic beans so out there on display--with a catch phrase, no less.

The Way We Were

So I was looking at an old floppy disk of mine the other night, and I found some old papers and such that I wrote in college. As I read the various files, I could not help but feel like I was reading about the life of a complete stranger. Much of the words I do not remember writing. More still did not seem like things that I would say. Some of it still resonates with my current mindset, while other parts made me relive things that I would have rather forgotten.

Anyhow, one of the papers dealt with my internship at the Hill. I was keeping a journal about my experiences for college credit. I then used parts of that journal for the final paper about what I learned from this internship. The following excerpt chronicles some of my first impressions about my first meeting with my lunchmates (note: name have been changed to protect the innocent [or not so innocent--you know who you are!]):

"During my first day there, Perk invited me to eat lunch with them. I was thrilled that they asked, because the thought of eating alone in the lunchroom was too dreadful to contemplate. They let me sit with their own little group, and I must say, they were quite the cast of characters. Burb was there. The more time that I have spent talking with Burb, the more I realize that he is very much like myself—ten years or so in the future. Then there was Jack Thunder, a very serious-looking man who is the epitome of the phrase "looks can be deceiving." After speaking with him, I found that he was a great conversationalist and just a great person in general. Old Navy sat next to me. She seems to be an outgoing person with a bit of spunk to her. C-Fish sat nearby. He is quite the "All-American" boy, who has a smile that is so genuine that you can’t help but trust him. Flip sat across from me. I very much enjoy talking with her. In the coming weeks, Flip really played the "mom" card on me, trying to improve my poor eating habits (which, in all honesty, I needed). And finally, there was Dr. Actually, a Canadian who seems to have all of the answers—especially when it comes to politics.

As I ate, they all discussed various topics, ranging from foreign policy, to a somewhat unhealthy obsession with the television show Alias. They welcomed me into their conversations when applicable, but I mostly listened to them all. At first, I felt a little strange sitting with people who were a little older than me, but as lunch continued on, they did not make me feel like a kid or an inferior. Things were going well. It seemed that fitting in would be much easier than I thought."



Sorry that this was not more juicy or insightful. These were just quick snippets of thoughts, but I will say that the last paragraph holds true. Not to get too Hallmark on you all, but--in my simple little life--I have grown to know and love many of you. I simply cannot imagine working at the office without you guys. Just hanging out and eating lunch together can be the best part of my day at the Hill--for a variety of reasons . . .

Anyway, I'm done for now. I guess I'll check out some porn and drift to sleep. (What? I couldn't end this post being so sappy. I needed to lighten the mood a bit. Porn is always a safe bet for that.)

Tribute to Mother's Day

Ah, Mother's Day.

A magical time of year, in which we all take time out of our busy schedules to cram as many human persons as possible into a tiny apartment, to eat fried chicken (sadly, not the "Kitchen Fresh Chicken"--or whatever "KFC" stands for anymore), to hear your mother continue to say as many bad things as possible about your father (not that this is restricted to Mother's Day), to wonder how many drinks your mother has snuck before you arrived, to witness your mother continuing to belittle your wife (over corn skewers, no less), and to ultimately see your mother show her ass to the neighbors (not literally, thank heavens).

Such is life with my mother.