Thursday, December 01, 2005
I am a sloppy eater/incredible driver
This morning I hit up Cafe Tropicale, the Cuban bakery on Silverlake and Parkman. They have rows and rows of pastries, muffins, and cookies, all made with lots of butter presumably, because they're some of the best pastries, muffins, and cookies I've ever had. But my appetite was not dainty, so I ordered up the more man-sized but not man-sized-sounding turkey-cheese croissant. This, plus a large cup of their coffee that doubles as industrial strength cleaning agent, really made the morning.
Anyway, I'm a sloppy eater. Breakfast left me covered in crumbs, and with a big brown stain in the center of my shirt. "Goddamit", I cursed myself, sounding eerily like my dad whenever he does something clumsy. Somehow I'm always surprised when I make a mess, like it's the first time it's ever happened in my life, like it's the totally rare exception to my perfect etiquette and eating habits.
All that said, I'm an expert when it comes to driving and eating. My form, impeccable. (I should say here I make messes whether I'm in the car or at the table). I can control the wheel with my pinky and ring fingers, while holding a burrito, sandwich, piece of pizza, ice cream cone, muffin, with my other three. In the other hand, I'm usually gripping a beverage. Cups of coffee and sodas are common. And, when I'm really in The Zone, I can change a CD at the same time. Now that's experience. That's some shit they don't teach you in Driver's Ed.
This morning I hit up Cafe Tropicale, the Cuban bakery on Silverlake and Parkman. They have rows and rows of pastries, muffins, and cookies, all made with lots of butter presumably, because they're some of the best pastries, muffins, and cookies I've ever had. But my appetite was not dainty, so I ordered up the more man-sized but not man-sized-sounding turkey-cheese croissant. This, plus a large cup of their coffee that doubles as industrial strength cleaning agent, really made the morning.
Anyway, I'm a sloppy eater. Breakfast left me covered in crumbs, and with a big brown stain in the center of my shirt. "Goddamit", I cursed myself, sounding eerily like my dad whenever he does something clumsy. Somehow I'm always surprised when I make a mess, like it's the first time it's ever happened in my life, like it's the totally rare exception to my perfect etiquette and eating habits.
All that said, I'm an expert when it comes to driving and eating. My form, impeccable. (I should say here I make messes whether I'm in the car or at the table). I can control the wheel with my pinky and ring fingers, while holding a burrito, sandwich, piece of pizza, ice cream cone, muffin, with my other three. In the other hand, I'm usually gripping a beverage. Cups of coffee and sodas are common. And, when I'm really in The Zone, I can change a CD at the same time. Now that's experience. That's some shit they don't teach you in Driver's Ed.
