Tongue-In-Cheek … Foot-In-Mouth

Before we leap into this week’s vitally important topic (i.e., finding myself sitting in a staff meeting stuck next to the office know-it-all dork who continually hikes his trousers up so high, last week he managed to get his neck firmly wedged in his left pant leg, and security had to call in a rather muscular seamstress of questionable sexuality to cut him free with the help from his, or hers, or, okay, we’ll settle for “its” industrial-strength scissors); I want to address an equally significant matter: eating fish stomachs.

To most people, the mere thought of eating a “fish stomach” would turn their stomach with the same level of spinning normally associated with that of a hamster laced with sugar and caffeine and thus vigorously running around and around in its miniature rodent treadmill wheel thingy.

But there are others out there like, for instance, The Travel Channel’s “Gag Me With A Spoon Gourmet,” Andrew Zimmern, host of “Bizarre Foods” who lives for this kind of gross-me-out groceries.  Note: “Bizarre Foods” as defined here as food so foul not even bacteria will eat it. In fact, microorganisms have been known to hold their little noses, and in high pitched tones, as if they were all just inhaling helium, say “ick,” and scurry away.  But, according to Andrew, if you have ever dined on Thai food, which comes swimming in Thai fish sauce, like it or not, there is a 3,000% chance that you ate a fish’s stomach, because the main ingredient in Thai fish sauce is, yup, you guessed it: automobile parts.  JUST JOKING!  No, seriously, it’s fish stomachs.

Generally speaking, folks don’t spend too much time wearing about eating fish guts, that is, until they suddenly realize that at one point in their lives, say, back in 1978, during a college fraternity pledging hell week, that after drinking enough beer to fill Vice President Joe Biden’s left-wing empty skull (relax liberals, they don’t brew that much beer—ha) all the thank-you-sir-may-I-have-another pledges came down with a wicked case of the munchies, and subsequently called in Thai food take out.  When the order arrived to the frat house, not only was it swimming in Thai fish sauce, but several hundred tubs were provided as complimentary condiment, by which I mean the Thai restaurant owner was desperate to get rid of the stuff, and so he figured what better group to pawn this crap off on than a drunken gaggle of toga-wearing college students.  And the pledges, mistaking the Thai fish sauce for stale beer (to be honest, at one point in the night they mistook liquid hand soup for beer and everyone was burping bubbles) quickly made up a drinking game, and all the pledges glug, glug, glugged it down.

As you might have already guessed, I was one of those pledges—BURP—there goes another bubble.  And I did glug down my fair share of Thai fish sauce—about three quarts worth, which if you do the math equates to approximately 9 fish stomachs.  So, today, just having realized what I drank back then, my humorist response, much like the sentiments delivered from our friendly bacteria buddies, would be to say “ick,” because “ick” is not only bacteria speak expressing microbial disgust, it is also an abbreviation normally used by humorists when they find out that some 30 odd years earlier they drank approximately 9 fish stomachs.  And so “ick” roughly translated from humorist speak into non-humorist speak means:

“YOU’VE GOT TO BE (NASTY WORD) KIDDING ME!  A FISH’S STOMACH!   WHAT THE, YOU HAVE TO BE, I MEAN SERIOUSLY!  WHY DOESN’T ANYONE TELL ME ABOUT FISH GUTS BEFORE I ATE THAI FOOD!  THIS WAS NOT ON THE MENU; NOT EVEN IN FINE PRINT.  NO MENTION WHATSOEVER ABOUT FISH’S STOMACH!   NOT ONE STINKIN’ FISH’S STOMACH WORD.  OH, SURE THEY OPENLY MENTIONED FISH, BUT NOTHING ABOUT FISH’S STOMACH!  YOU’D THINK THIS MINOR MENU MORSEL WOULD REQUIRE SOME LEVEL OF MENTIONING TO THE GENERAL PUBLIC, RIGHT?  EVIDENTLY, WRONG!  NOT A SYLLABLE!  AAAAAAAAHHHHH!   SPIT!  SPIT!  SPIT!  WHO’S GOT THE STOMACH PUMP?  I NEED IT NOW, RIGHT NOW, RIGHT THIS VERY MINUTE!  I HAVE TO PUMP THE FISH STOMACH OUT OF MY STOMACH!  WHA!  WHA!  WHA!  MOMMY MAKE IT STOP!”

But my point in this week’s column is not about consuming fish stomachs; it’s about, well, I forgot what my point is about because I keep thinking about CONSUMING FISH STOMACHS!  Oh, I remember: my point is that during office staff meetings, my seat assignment is RIGHT next to the office suck-up who, in every staff meeting, whenever the boss asks a question, has to quickly raise his hand and begin violently waving and thrashing his hands around as if trying to fight off a swam of killer bees.   And he grunts: “OOO, OOO, OOO!” As if to say “Pick Me!”

With his hand in the air all the time and the accompanying “OOOOing,” the boss is permanently fixated on him, and thus on me, too.  So I have to sit there and pretend to be awake, alert, paying attention, taking copious notes, and overall eagerly interested in whatever it is the boss is babbling about—when I am so NOT.

What really frosts my codpiece is that all of my other co-workers don’t have to pay attention—none, zip, zilch, nada.   Nope, they are out of the line of sight and out of the boss’s crosshairs.  However, old dingle berry and I are on center stage with the spotlight shining brightly overhead.  And my co-workers can sit back, relax, and begin perfecting that head bobbing thing, wherein first their eyes start to close, then their mouths open, then their heads start to fall backwards, they suddenly awake, jerk their heads forward, and begin all over again.  This can be seen going on throughout the entire meeting, all around the room.  And if Scottie had beamed you down to the earth’s surface, and if you walked into this meeting, you would swear you had stumbled upon a secret organization practicing to become human Pez dispensers.

Anyway, that’s it for this week.  Join me again next time where I will discuss how, just yesterday, I stopped at a gas station, handed the clerk $15.00 for pump number #2.  Then it took me 40 seconds to pump $14.65 worth of gas into my tank.  This sounds like a reasonable amount of time.  BUT at the $14.65 level, the pumping mechanism slowed way down to a trickle, as if the hose had suddenly developed an enlarged prostrate.  And then it took me more time to pump in the remaining $.35 cents than it would take for President Obama to form an intelligent coherent non-scripted non-teleprompter non-um-um-um-containing unrehearsed response to an off-the-cuff question posed by, say, a right-winger like yours truly.

EXAMPLE

Date Line: Wednesday, April 8, 2009.  President Obama is about to hold a press conference to talk about housing.

Me: “President Obama.  What are you going to do about those Somali pirates who boarded a US vassal, kidnapped the captain, actually he volunteered to go to save his shipmates, and now the pirates are holding a gun to his head?”

President Obama: “Guys, Guys, Guys; we are here to talk about housing.”

There is still hope for us, my fellow good Americans, because remember I am running for president in 2012.  Go to the campaign section of my website and vote for me.  Below are but a few of my planned cabinet appointees:

-       Vice President Who Comes Complete With A Functioning Brain And The Ability To Construct And Articulate Actual Sentences: Rush Limbaugh

-       Department Of State And A Damn Fine Looking Woman If I Do Say So: Secretary Sara Palin

-       Department Of No One Screws With The US Defense: Secretary Newt Gingrich

-       Department Of The Low Taxes, Controlled Spending, Zero Borrowing, And Limited printing of money Treasury: Secretary Donald Trump

-       Department Of Don’t Come Across Our Boarders Unless We First Ask You Or You Will Be Returned In A Pine Box Homeland Security: Secretary Ted Nugent

-       Department Of Ripping Liberals New A-Holes And Looking Really Good While Doing It: Secretary Ann Coulter

-       Department Of Plain Good Old Commons Sense: Secretary Glenn Beck

-       Department Of NO Spin And Of Justice: Secretary Bill O’Reilly

-       White House Razor Sharp Tongue Bring It ON Be-ooo-tch Spokesperson: Jay Severin

Copyright © 2009 Bill Drury.  All Rights Reserved.