Vegetarian Vegetables

In a fit of quite possibly misguided enthusiasm, I decided that I would work today. The original plan was that I would wake up bright and early, at the crack of dawn (on the west coast, so nine thirty here in the east.) work until three and then perhaps meet a friend later in the day.

Because of a few beers and some moderately pleasant (Moderately might be stretching it. Mildly? Vaguely? Peripherally? Tangentially? Insurmountably? Lackadaisically? Unintentionally? Weightily? Sixteen Elephants of Pleasant Company?) company during the imbibing of the beers, I got home late last night and woke up at twelve today.

Now, on the menu at that bar, (Or “on the menu in that bar’ or “Bar the menu in that on?”…Coherence has never been my strong suit. Get over it. I like my stories to meander a bit. Like a river or a drunk toaster salesman. Or a drunken toaster sails-man. Toaster sailing isn’t a very well known nautical pass time, mostly because most participants get electrocuted in short order. “Splash…bzzzt “, ah the smell of freshly toasted… (Bah! Sails-man isn’t even a word. I needed to hyphenate it so that I could do the toaster sails-man bit.)) , was a list of food that you could get at that bar. It in fact, was the menu and was doing what menus have been doing since the middle ages, which is doing the whole listing of food and drink bit (Before the great menu reformation of the sixteen hundreds, menus were a wanton lot, doing body shots with squirrels, robbing from the rich and giving to the poor. They used to dress up in awfully uncomfortable green tights and say stuff like “Yoiks, my merry men”, and “Can I take a look at your bow, good Sir.” (If you haven’t guessed by now, I’m facing a minor case of blogger’s block. I am randomly putting stuff together hoping to come up with something. Anything. I fully expect that by the time I’m done typing there will be three more digressions one of which deals with my obsession with cheesecakes and brun…Um yeah, never mind.) (I think I’ve closed all the brackets that I’ve opened, but I’m not sure. I suppose I could copy this text into a programmer’s editor to look for matching brackets but I’m far too lazy.)

One of the items on the menu at that bar, (Or “on the menu in that bar”), was a Vegetarian Dosa. Yeah a fucking Vegetarian Dosa. Now I do not even like it when North Indian restaurants serve Dosas (Because they ruin them, not because I’m biased against North Indians or anything.) . And a Vegetarian Dosa? With a cilantro chutney? It’s enough to make a strong man cry. Vegetarian? Does that really need to be said? Isn’t that a given? Unless somewhere, someone has committed the atrocity of stuffing a Dosa with Chicken Tikka? ...Actually that wouldn’t be a half bad idea. Or a Tandoor Dosa. Hell, that isn’t a bad idea either. (As promised, now our regularly scheduled digression. Cheesecake and brun…um yeah never mind.)

So, yeah work. Didn’t get any of that shit done.