Friday, 27 March 2009

My Fetish: I'll have it my way, thank you very much.

I am staying home tonight for the first time in ages.

I could not be more excited. I turned down a couple of invites (gladly, see here for references to both of the poor schmucks) and specifically planned a night in.

I’m going to listen to music that I found at this amazing store, Revolver Records, which I bought months ago and haven’t listened to. I’m going to work on a painting that’s been staring at me saying “You know you want to” And … wait for it … I’m planning to pick up a delightful meal -- most likely from a little fast food place south of the border, and indulge my salty, fatty side!

Yeah, I said it: I love fast food. I don’t know when it happened. I don’t know why it happened. But I seriously love me a cheesy bean and rice burrito or a, gasp, Filet-o-Fish and fries whenever possible. Obviously, this isn’t an every day event, but I get my junk food on whenever I can without feeling like a Fatty McFatstack.

This is weird on so very many levels.

First of all, I’ve been a vegetarian most of my life. I say most because I had a teenage rebellion phase where I’d eat pepperoni pizza like it was going out of style. I’d sneak in past curfew after feasting on cured pork and my pops would be all fascist and say “I know where you’ve been. I can smell it all over you.” And I’d shout back, “I learned it from watching you, OK!”

I very recently started eating a little meat from time to time (that's what she said.) Especially bacon. Bacon = bliss. If you live in the Phoenix area, or are just passing through, I highly recommend the Bacon Wrapped Basil from Sens. Johnny Chu, I Heart You.

My new meat phase (That’s what she said. Oh, again!) began after a long night of dancing and drag queens. I ended up at Gay Denny’s with some friends. I was so beat and my friend ordered sliders and offered me one. I was drunk, I was hungry, I was boogied out and I didn’t even think twice about eating that burger.

I was always a veg for political reasons -- you know, mass animal farming is bad for us, bad for animals, bad for the environment, and stuff -- so fast food should be so wrong to me – but why does it taste SO RIGHT?

I’m getting back on the wagon, though, I swear.

My FFF (Fast Food Fetish) is also weird because I’m considered something of a foodie by people who know me. I love to cook and most people say I’m darn good at it. And I love to go out to a quality restaurant and really enjoy a great meal. And I won’t be caught dead in a Crapplebee’s or anything like that.

But fast food is like a whole other beast.

Now, I’m in no way advocating that we eat this stuff every day (we are a nation of gigantic people and I think we all know it’s not due to overconsuming apples and bananas.) I mean, it is, from a nutritional standpoint, junk food. But, when I tell people I like fast food every now and then – especially the hipster and quasi-hipster 20 and 30 somethings I know, they all shudder and say things like “Gross!” or “No way.” or "I exclusively buy local, dude." (A nice dream, but you're hitting the pipe too hard if you think I believe you, Guy With No Job.)

Someone is eating this stuff. Actually, millions are eating it, so I know some of those Gross-sayers are driving through Micky Ds at 10:25 on a Saturday morning hoping they will get there before they stop serving breakfast because we all know NOTHING cures a hangover better than a bacon, egg and cheese biscuit, hashbrown and large OJ. So seriously, fess up, what’s your guilty pleasure?

1 comment:

  1. First, I love your blog already. Second, guilty pleasure: charleston chews. I'm a foodie too, but keep me away from the movie theater size box of charleston chew minis. Dangerous.