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I am such an intelligent man. Really, I am.

Last night I sat down to enjoy watching St Elmo's Fire on the telly, and ordered in a scrumptious Chinese meal. A very long 45 minutes later, the food arrives, and I go downstairs to fetch it, grabbing my wallet on my way out the door.

I go to pay the man. But alas, my wallet, she is empty. Ah, no problem, I was keeping my cash in my pocket during Floating World, and I never replaced it into my wallet. I'll go back up and get it. The delivery man says OK.

I go upstairs. But alas, my door, she is locked. Ah, I never did switch the auto-lock button that I had set for kinkmogul to exit my apartment on her way back home. Problem.

I go downstairs. I try to explain to the delivery man what has happened. He pretends to conveniently not speak English. My doorman, bless his soul, lends me the money to send the delivery guy off.

I stand and take inventory of the situation.

I have a bag of scrumptious food. I don't, however, have any napkins, or utensils to eat it with, nor a table to rest it on.

I have an apartment with all of these things. But I do not have access to it. My girlfriend is out, and I do not know when she will return. Besides which, my cell phone is laughing at me as it is also stuck beyond my reach on the other side of my apartment door. Those phones can be like mischievous hyenas sometimes.

Wait, I have a lolitasir  4 blocks away! Yes! And she has keys! I use the doorman's phone, bless his soul, and talk to my lovely sis. She would be happy to let me in, but it will take a while for her to get ready. OK, at least I will be home.

I take my bag of food and sit on my stoop. There really isn't much to watch on a stoop facing a park. I mean, the occasional car, and dark trees, and that's about it. Not a very exciting show, if you ask me. It could have been dinner and a show... if it wasn't for the lack of utensils. I wasn't about to dig into my fried rice with my fingers... I must retain some of my remaining dignity, right?

Twenty minutes later, I start munching on my spare ribs. My pants grow dirty to my lack of napkins.

About 20 minutes after that, I am finally let back into my apartment by lolitasir.

I never did eat my rice. The sheer amount of pure genius of the evening satisfied me much more than food could ever.

Yup. I rock.

Comments

melebeth
Aug. 28th, 2007 02:36 pm (UTC)
I love the chinese food plastic spork. It is a delightful utilitarian utensil equally well suited to eating and graphic mutilation. How often can you say that?