I have a wall of menus. I don’t have any other decoration of my room. I have a wall with a large map of Brooklyn and menus from local restaurants. Is it because I like food? Sure. Is it because I am constantly thinking about where my next meal will come from and what it will consist of? Yes. Is it because I use them to order from? Absolutely not. They are simply menus, meant to tantalize me, meant to excite me, meant to make me feel like there is good in the world.

I never understood window shopping, and I grew up in a tourist town that’s economy is kept afloat by window shoppers who forgot they were only supposed to be window shopping, but food is something I window shop for constantly. I love living in Brooklyn because everybody puts their menu out on the street and I can walk up and peruse the appetizers and talk to myself about how when I have money I will go there to eat lunch. People need to accept this as a valid form of window shopping. I want to live in a world where I can walk into a restaurant get a feel for the ambiance, maybe sit in a chair or booth, look at what other people are eating, and leave without eating a thing. We do that at clothes stores all the time. Well, I don’t, but others do. Let me have my food.

Sometimes I just walk up to my wall and read the menus I’ve read a million times before like it’s my favorite children’s fantasy book that reminds me of how innocent and vulnerable I was when I was reading and falling for fantasy. Speaking of similes, food provides excellent material for similes, so I’m going to pick out random items from my wall of cheap food and create similes that use them.

Okay, my wall is on the other side of the room, so I’m going to watch some Hulu and then I’ll get to this project.

I’m back, The Marriage Ref isn’t very funny.

White people in cultural organizations are like curried cauliflower wraps with chickpeas, brown rice, and mango chutney. They are obviously trying to be exotic and do genuinely enjoy the culture the are appropriating, but they are white and will never get away from the Whole Foods/Yuppie vegetable and rice combo of cauliflower and brown rice.

Going on an internet blind date with someone who you really hit it off with is like a quinoa salad with corn, black beans, tomatoes and corn tortilla strips with avacado dressing. Every piece of it is great and exciting, but in the back of your mind you know this is still quinoa which has a disturbing texture and aftertaste that makes your self-esteem lower because no one else has to resort to quinoa to find love.

Your uncle’s new fiancée is like housemade pastrami spiced brisket and leyden with housemade sauerkraut, arugula, tomato, onion, grainy mustard. She seems to be getting the idea of the family and trying to fit in, but she keeps putting her weird touches in that make us all uncomfortable.

Being smacked in the balls lightly by a woman you want to sleep with is like a hot dog with peanut sauce, indonesian pickles, jalepenos on a challah roll. It’s confusing. You’re in pain and angry, but she didn’t know what she did, and her hand was close to your penis so that’s good, right? No, probably not, it’s still a malicious act, though not intentionally malicious, so like what’s the harm? Well, my balls hurt so that’s harmful, but I can’t get mad. Fuck it, I’ll just get whiny. That’s the path this hot dog takes – it’s a hot dog so it’s sort of New Yorky and want’s to discuss and talk about shit, then the anger increases as the spices to – first Indian food, then Indonesian, then Mexican (spicier and spicier), then it ends with challah – aka Jewishy – aka whiny.

Covering for someone at work who works the night shift when you usually work the day shift is like sauteed seitan steak in onions, veggie chorizo, brown rice, black beans, arepa con queso, madro and avacado. You really have no idea what to expect, but the way they describe it alternately sounds like it’s much more fun than what you usually do, and terrible, but you assume that’s just because people like complaining about their job. It still fills you with trepidation though.