Tasty

No, the title's not a reference to the stunning news that Clay Aiken is gay.

It's about this delicious salad I had for lunch today and the mental midgetry required to manufacture it.

I order antipasto, and the clueless young lady (with her boyfriend's name tattooed on her arm) who's putting it together has obviously never done it before. She procures a list of ingredients from another employee, and then proceeds to collect them in a bowl. Trusting this obvious display of competence, my eyes drift to the menu as I peruse different food options for the future, instead of carefully watching her selection of ingredients.

And what, to my pleasant surprise, did I find on my antipasto? Tortilla strips, of course, hard-boiled eggs, and capers. Delightfully tossed in balsamic vinaigrette, these bonus items complemented the robust flavors of pepperoni, roasted peppers, olives, and provolone. Just writing about it brings the memory of that taste back along with a flood of nausea.

Living in Philadelphia and working in food services, one might suspect you've stumbled across antipasto before. But alas, our heroine constructed an anti-chef taco salad instead, much to my culinary dismay. Another $8 well spent. Although, when I think about it, that salad was more entertaining and less time-wasting than Tropic Thunder, so perhaps I should consider myself lucky.

Tomorrow I'm off to Chicago to hang out with a couple old poker buddies and watch the Eagles play at Soldier Field. I'll be stuffing a backpack full of clothes - not enough for four days, but I'll wash them once on the road - to avoid the super-cool checked luggage fee on United. That's just what I need as a traveler: another excuse for sweaty, inconsiderate buffoons to stuff huge pieces of heavy luggage into tight spaces above my head. Good thinking, airlines! With an attitude of hopeless despair firmly in place for my trip, I'm sure nothing blog-worthy will come out of it...