Mystery Meatless

Leftover night is my favorite. It's the only guilt-free eating there is. After all, you're doing the world a favor, right? This was just going to go to waste, and it's taking up valuable fridge space, so by volunteering to consume whatever's in that tupperware container you're both hygienically disposing of it *and* staving off your own demise. Bravo.

The brown rice I found was pretty safe, relatively speaking. Amateur stuff. Penny got the better part of that -- well, she and the baby, I suppose.

Me, I took on the Other Container, which held secrets unknown. Culinary adventures uncharted. Week-old leftover vegetarian sloppy-joes, hopefully uncongealed.

Lope recommended I sniff it. This I did. No harm so far. Then I put it in the microwave on the thermonuclear setting, which I figured would do in any malevolent microorganisms waiting to surf down my alimentary canals. And when the dinger went off, it was go time.

Do or die.

Or both.

Actually, I'm getting a little carried away. Kind of just trying to fill space, to tell you the truth. I'm not sure why. I ate it. That's the end of the story. And I feel fine.

I did sing a little song to myself, though, which is why I thought this tale might be worth telling. Maybe you can make use of the song during your own Leftover Nights, which always seem to catch you unawares.

Back to the food for a second, first. Now, this stuff's suspicious; I think we can all agree on that. Vegetarian sloppy joes... that's like, hmm. Sugarless candy? Dehydrated water, perhaps. A wireless extension cord. The clean version of Straight Outta Compton.

So it's already filed under Weird, even when new. But on the bright side, if it's just "soy protein" (a term I find reassuringly vague, but only vaguely reassuring), then how "bad" can it really go, anyway? Rancid only applies to animal matter, correct? Old veggies are just... old. I think. And even though neither Penny nor I can remember when we actually made sloppy joes, it can't have been *too* distant an event. We've only lived here a month, after all.

Besides, I thought to myself, I'm healthy. (For now.) Surely the "good bacteria" in the confines of Colin can stand up to whatever lurks in my own refrigerator.

And again, "it's just going to go to waste" otherwise, right?

So here's the song, which is offered in its entirety, free of any and all copyright protection.

Oh, before I start: you want to sing this to the tune of Whitesnake's "Here I Go Again."

[plaintive keyboard intro]

I don't know what I'm eating.
But I sure know where it's been.

Sitting on the back shelf, behind the orange juice.

And I've made up my mind

I ain't wasting no more food

Yeah, here I go again...

Here I go again.

[pause for dramatic emphasis]

Though I keep searching for some dinner,
I never seem to find what I'm looking for.

But I found this substance, made with "Maltodextrin."
I don't know what that means...

But stomach come on, we do this as a team!

[guitar intro, general rocking]

Here I go again, on my own.
Choking down whatever's left in my home!

Yeah, this meal may be questionable at best.
But it's going down the hatch nonetheless!

[guitar solo, chorus, fade out as dancers tumble off car hood]


Hello, I'm Ryan Noel. said...

You totally song bombed me.

You had me singing Whitesnake all production meeting long. But it was a modified version:

Though I keep searching for an answer,
I never seem to find what I'm looking for.

And Lord I pray you'll give me strength to carry on
'Cause I know what that means...

But stomach come on, we do this as a team

It's a hybrid, you see. A hybrid song bomb. That's a first for me.


I had forgotten about the girl doing the splits on the car hood. Thanks.

laurowens said...

glad i didn't come over for dinner that night!

Anonymous said...

OK, now go back and read this post again and tell me those leftovers had absolutely no effect on you.