I like to
think of my jokes like mini tacos. They
are small, awesome and are 10 times more enjoyable when you’re drunk. But also like mini tacos, if you have too
many of them, you’re left with a stomachache and a sense of self-loathing. I guess what I’m really trying to say here
is that it’s generally unwise to let me prattle on for too long, but also that
you shouldn’t eat too many mini tacos because the calories in them are
outrageous.
Regardless
of whether you gorge on 1600 calories of mini tacos or just let me talk for too
long, it’s important to own your mistakes.
I don’t mean to admit when you’re wrong, because this is an awkward and
uncomfortable thing to do. I mean to
pretend like it wasn’t a mistake at all because social anxiety won’t let you
correct yourself. What’s that you say?
You’d like an example? Of course.
I find
myself in a position to own my mistakes most often when I’m out in public
ordering food (this is likely because one of the only times I allow myself in
public is while eating and drinking…and the laws of probability). A few weeks ago I went out to a little
burger place with some friends. I
ordered a burger, fries and a drink because this is the most stereotypical
story ever. The cashier asked me what
size drink I wanted, and out of habit I replied “Medium” because this is
America and our medium drinks usually come in 13-gallon trashcans. The cashier, noticing that I’m a grown man,
points at a tiny cup and says “Our mediums are 10 ounces, would you like a
large instead?” Now, common sense
should tell me to accept her polite advice and upgrade to the large, but social
anxiety stepped in and said, “You cannot let her know that you are uninformed
on the drink sizes here. That is a sign
of weakness!” I ended up replying with
some idiotic mix of “Oh yeah, that’s fine.
10 ounces is plenty. Perfect.
Does anyone really need more than 10 ounces?”
I then grabbed my thimble of soda and quickly went to my table so I
could be alone with my shame while everyone else ordered.
The only
way this drink could have possible lasted my whole meal would be if I was
drinking it through a coffee stirrer.
So, I finished my drink and still had half a burger and a mountain of
salty fries left. But, it’s definitely
too late now. I have to continue to own
my mistake. And I can’t go up for a
refill because then cashier-girl would know that I’m an idiot and that I didn’t
really want a 10 ounce soda as I so casually and naturally implied in our
previous conversation (which she totally bought, right?). Instead, I’ve opted to take the lid off my
cup and start chewing ice while simultaneously breathing hot air into the cup
in hopes that it will cause the ice to melt into water more quickly. At this point, if I hadn’t played Oregon
Trail so much as a kid, I probably would have gone to the bathroom and stuck my
head in the sink, but as it stands, I’m still terrified of dysentery so I don’t
trust just any old water source. I also
never ford a river.
On the
bright side, I didn’t have to pee most of the night because I’m pretty sure the
lack of hydration combined with the salty food shut down my
kidneys.
-Ryan
-Ryan
Very true and funny story
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