Gastronomique Bizarre

Sometimes I am faced with the fact that I'm a picky eater. And not just any picky eater. No, I have to shun the most normal and widely accepted foods in the whole damned country. Let's start with:

I was ordering Girl Scout Cookies from a co-worker whose daughter is a Girl Scout. Three boxes of Trefoils (my favorite), two boxes of Samoas, and one box of Tagalongs, the first question out of the aforementioned co-workers mouth is: "No Thin Mints?" How can I possibly make this clear? Mint and chocolate do not go together for me. I find the combination possibly the most vile thing I've ever tasted. I can't help it. The mere smell of Thin Mints makes me nauseous enough that I asked a roommate to keep them out of sight and smell. I love mint. I tolerate chocolate. But never shall the two pass my lips combined!

Eggs. Oh eggs. I've tried so hard with you. Everyone likes eggs, or seemingly so. Eggs make eating breakfast anywhere nearly impossible, particularly since I gave up bacon in some deluded Lenten attempt. Every year I try eggs a few ways, just to make sure I still dislike them. I've found a way I can feasibly ingest them without seeing them in reverse, but it involves so much cheese, butter, and salt as to render the poor things unrecognizable (but confirming my belief that I'll eat almost anything covered in enough cheese). Scrambled, overeasy, fried, poached, omelettes, frittattas, quiche, and even pork fried rice have fallen due to my dislike of the unfortunate egg. What's sad is I want to like them. Life would be so much easier that way. Confused yet? Yeah, well I love French toast. We've never quite figured that one out, although I think it's the syrup.

Peppers. I cannot stress this enough: I will not eat something in which I can taste peppers of the sweet Bell-style variety. Jalapenos are fine, chilis are awesome, habaneros are probably too spicy, but I'll give them a go. Sweet peppers are disgusting, and one of the only ways I'll turn down a perfectly good piece of pizza. Why? Because they seep their flavor into everything they touch. Ask my mother. Never liked peppers, never will, and won't even give them the time of day I've tried with eggs!

The list of foods I passionately hate is pretty short (see above). But then we get to the normal, indulgent foods that I can simply do without and have no desire to ever eat. After stating this seeming blasphemy, I'm generally given looks like I'm a three-headed monster or some sort of inhuman alien sent to spy on Earth. I assure you that's not the case. I simply could live without ice cream, apple pie, chocolate, doughnuts, cake, cookies, any form of vending machine candy, and pancakes. Occasionally I'll eat one of the aforementioned foods, but I never quite got the hang of liking chocolate and I can only eat it in really small quantities. I'm the only person I know who eats ONE Samoa at a time and then puts the box away. Ok, I realize I'm weird, but it was on my mind so I figured I'd share.

And just for Mom, cuz I know she wants to know: The only way I've managed to swallow an egg without completely turning my nose up - fried in 1 tbsp of butter per egg, yolk broken, covered in cheddar cheese, and topped with a hefty portion of salt. They didn't sit well, but they stayed down (beer helped).

Someone Stepped On My Arm

I had rugby practice with the Furies tonight. It was the third practice of the season - a scrimmage vs. Georgetown. Tonight I remembered all those things I'd seemingly forgotten (except for organizational skills, as my playing still resembles that of an extraordinarily gun-shy rookie who can't recognize a place in the ruck; some things can only be re-taught over time). I forgot how nice it was to go into work with bruises, everyone on the Metro thinking I was beaten at home, and everyone at work wondering how in God's name I'd gotten such a large purple bruise on my forearm (someone stepped on it in a ruck, it happens).

I forgot how much pain is involved, and how the pain factor exponentially dissipates over the practices until the running is considerably more onerous than a forceful tackle (that would be where I'm at right now).

I forgot that I'm one of the only people on most teams who loves pro rugby so furiously that I will skip playing a game to watch my team. I have absolutely no regrets about how much I love Wales, and I will not apologize - it's SIX NATIONS, people, and it only comes once a year!

I completely forgot about the camaraderie. I mean, I remembered in theory, but the drink-ups are by far the most friendly portions of my life, where everyone gets along, even if they don't necessarily like each other. The fact is, we all play rugby, we all like the big hits, and we'll all skull our pints at the end of a match.

Now I just need to remember to run sprint drills!