Friday, January 27, 2006


Sometimes things happen which remind me of how grateful I am not to be from this planet. Before I proceed, I need to warn you that this is one of those "what's THAT all about?" life's-observation rants. If you've had enough of these, then I completely understand. I certainly don't want my readers to be sitting around in their senior years, looking back and thinking, "gee I really should have spent my time being charitable to my fellow man and less time reading Geritopia rants". But how I digress...

There's this Mexican food joint called Poquito Mas, which is a fairly decent chain in its own category of take-out. However, something clearly activates the reptilian part of the human brain that's responsible for conquering and plundering of the customer occupying the salsa bar. A customer might be carrying the most insignificant tray of an al a carte taco or even a single greasy chip they found on the floor. It doesn't matter. Anyone under the salsa bar spell must absolutely stake their claim, scoring every last variety and color in the most annoying persnickety manner. If there are 12 individual salsas then 12 must be had, as everyone waiting in line is held in thrall. You'd think that something of the utmost gravity was taking place, like the transport of radioactive isotopes. If provoked by competition, folks at the salsa bar will physically expand like blow fish to ward off other predators while they work the little dispensing spoons and plastic containers. And they breathe really hard with saliva flapping between their teeth. "Oh yeah, gotta have this one, and this one, can't miss out on this one!!! They're free and they're mine!!! Fuck'y'all!!!"

So what's that all about?!!! And why are tortilla chips triangular? 'Must be something to do with the Trilateral Commission. Just what is a "chip". Can you gamble with 'em? Can you eat a poker chip? Where do they come from? A bag? What's that anyway? Do bags come in bags?


Joey Polanski said...

Granfathr: An then there was th time I went t this restraunt where th salsa bar had TWELVE diffrent salsas!

Granson: WOW, Grampa! You ate chips wit TWELVE diffrent salsas in one sittin?

Granfathr: No, child. I only sampld elevn of em. I was young an foolish. Wastd oppertunity. A tradgedy, really.

Anonymous said...

Did you go to Manhattan Beach or West LA? That's asshole-ville. It's always that way. The one in Burbank is always nice and polite. Location location location.