Haikus on the Subject of Jack-in-the-Box, Friendship

Hard night studying
Melissa in the doorway
"Want Jack-in-the-Box?"

("Studying" not right -
"Procrastinating" correct.
Sometimes more draining!)

A quilt on the floor
Our feast spread out before us
Reruns of South Park

Three crispy eggrolls
Cabbage hot enough to melt
Flame retardant skin

A pair of tacos
Delicious, deep fried, greasy
Just ninety-nine cents

Carmel iced coffee
No longer available
Helped me pass college

Late nights at the Box
Laughing at the intercom
Celebrating life

Petrol Station

So I don't know if you guys ever watch Drinking Made Easy, but it's not a very good podcast and they came to Houston and had a drinking contest at Petrol Station! They were there, at the bar that I am reviewing! (Though to be clear I am reviewing them as a restaurant not as a bar, I have standards guys even if I did watch Drinking Made Easy, the worst show ever made.)

When I walked in I very nearly stumbled into a guy that I recently graduated college with. The worst part of this is that never, in the four years and dozen classes we spent together, did I say one word to this man. This is pretty hard, considering the number of group projects the average member of the Conrad N Hilton College of Hotel/Restaurant Management is required to be in, but yes this particular man and I never once spoke to each other. Now, here we are, in our real lives, almost literally running into each other... talk about awkward. I want you to know that I managed to keep up my streak and neither one of us even said excuse me. I could tell from the stricken look on his face that he as well is a member of that very socially awkward group I'm in, that would rather cut off their arms than talk to another person; the sad thing is that this interaction, from us sharing an interest in attending the same bar and then sharing the other interest of not speaking to weirdos from college, suggests that we might have been friends had we ever been forced to communicate, but that time is past and now we will never have another opportunity. -13 Also I was wearing my favorite shirt that I wore to class at least a million times over the last four years and it would have been really embarrassing to talk to him because if he did recognize me it was probably because my Three Wolf Moon shirt was a dead give away.

Also what kind of name is Petrol Station guys? Come on this is America. You can't even try to tell me it's a British style pub because guess what guys? They serve AMERICAN CRAFT BEERS THERE. American, guys. They know what country they are in! This is exactly the kind of flip flopping I think we all grew to expect from John Kerry in his presidential run, not the kind of flip flopping I want from a place I'm planning on buying alcohol. -9 My understanding is that they had a different sort of scandal a few years back in which they were accused of being unAmerican; can they really afford the sort of bad publicity that comes from being called Petrol Station? I recommend a quick change to the Gas Station, but it's important to make the change in a way that doesn't force me to think this is just a further inability to stick to their guns.

I want to be clear that I kind of like the atmosphere at this place. I mean I get that the food is really not that great (I ordered the Pig Newton, what a letdown guys. "Pig Newton" is such a fun, charming name, I really expected something fun and charming in response, but just between you and me it was way too salty and then the sweetness of the fig preserves just made everything nasty. Speaking as someone with years of fig preserve making under their belt, well like one year anyway, I can criticize without losing any sleep at night. And then here's the thing about prosciutto, guys, it's amazing, the best thing the Italians every gave us after the lively news coverage of Berlusconi's constant stream of scandals. Yet this particular sandwich made me think prosciutto is gross, a hard thing to do.) And I don't really like craft beer, I don't like any beer at all don't think I'm discriminating, so that's not a huge draw for me. And I get that waiting over an hour for your food is silly, no matter how busy they are. Guys it really does not take that long to make a burger. Plus I've been reading yelp! a lot lately (only negative reviews, I don't like to read about people being happy, that's why Edith Wharton and Hemingway are my favorite writers, they can really make you depressed about your future), this is a reoccurring pattern, why don't they just hire an extra kitchen guy? I mean it seems like an easy solution. But I'm not here to tell people how to live their lives, I'm here to tell you that I think it's sweet that you go into the restaurant and then it looks small and then you realize there's a back patio and you go out on the back patio and it's bigger but still small, and then you look and realize that there's more space out even beyond that, enough space that it could be turned into a wildlife preserve for like buffaloes or whatever it is you want to preserve.  Tigers, or something. Ostriches, if you're watching the new season of Arrested Development. +18 So my point is this is a bad place if you want to eat food or not run into people you went to college with or not drink craft beers but other than that it's really nice and they have picnic tables.

A Poem to Taco Bell

Cheesy Gordita Crunch
I love you
your taste
your texture
your crunch.
The way that when I bite in
the Pepper Jack sauce
mixes with the packet of fire sauce
and trickles down my face
in rivulets.
You're always there
when I'm drunk
sober
studying
getting off of work
too lazy to make dinner
need something to sneak into the movies
going to the park
going on a road trip
already ate dinner but want to boredom eat
wearing my favorite shirt and want to celebrate.

You're there when
my feet hurt
my head hurts
my back hurts
I'm on my period
Dumbledore just died
I'm cleaning my room
(just kidding that never happens)
I just saw Twilight and it was sadly just as good as the book
there are no parking spots on campus and I have to just skip class instead.
I've loved you
my whole life and with
every part of my soul.
Cheesy Gordita Crunch
I love you.

Beaver's

I went here on Mother's Day with my mother for brunch. It was impossible to miss that it was brunch because on the menu they handed us there were four different recipes for Bloody Marys and two recipes for mimosas. This is the kind of brunch menu my mother and I approve of. +8 My understanding is that they also serve food here.

Just kidding of course I ate the food there! Here's what else was really nice about their menu: two of their brunch items had exclamation points after them, so that you know the restaurant is really excited to serve them! The two menu items in question were their stacked enchiladas!!! and Reubang! sandwich. I know what you're thinking, a smart girl would have ordered something that the restaurant was that excited about, but I'm a college graduate now so I don't have to act like a smart girl I can simply manage, lead, synergize, etc. other people into doing it for me. Either way I loved this about them, it got me very excited about my meal, and I'm planning on using the same tactic for the next time I make dinner for my boyfriend. "We're having appetizers! of three different kinds!!! all out of a box! and no entree at all!!". (I'm very domesticated, I know you are all very jealous of him for getting to date me.)

The best part of Beaver's though was that they'd printed out all sorts of popular memes from the internet and posted them around the doors of the restaurant. There was First World Problems, a woman weeping into her hand, thinking, "I can't believe I didn't see the hostess. Now I don't have a menu." There was Good Guy Greg, smoking his joint, saying, "Notices Signs. Sees Hostess." There was my pal Philosoraptor, pondering, "If you don't see the hostess, how will anyone know you are here?" I loved this stuff! I loved it a bunch! +183 Most restaurants, I'm sure you are aware, just have a little sign that says "Please wait for a hostess" real politely. This is not enough of a precaution! Trust me I know, sometimes I'm a hostess! And I can't tell you how aggravating it is to have people seat themselves. Here's why: being a hostess is not the most exciting job in the world. All you have to do is find clean, empty tables, and lead people to them in a way that best maintains a low empty seat count. People have done this in their sleep before. So when people show up and just seat themselves! I mean come on! This is all I'm doing tonight! I cleared my whole schedule! I specifically put on my work shirt and tied my sneakers to come and be with you tonight, and for you to assume that you can do my job better than me is simply insulting. Also, I hate when there is clearly a line of people waiting for a table and someone comes up to me, the hostess, and says, "So, can I just seat myself?" That's like stomping up to a doctor's office, waiting while he puts on all his operating gloves and such, and then saying to him, so, "can I just remove my own kidney, or what?" What do you think that man is standing there for?? I'm getting a little heated here so I'll just summarize: I really appreciate Beaver's clear and thoughtful response to the major disrespect of their hostesses, and I certainly appreciate their use of First World Problems, the meme I most frequently associate with (after, of course, Foul Bachelorette Frog)

All I have left so say about this joint is that the apartments across the street at 2411 Washington look really nice and attractive, but don't fall in love because a one-bedroom starts at $1279 and ain't nobody got time for that.

Which Wich

Look guys. I just want to start by saying that no matter what it seems like from the name, Which Wich does not serve sandwiches. They serve magic, and nothing but magic.

I used to work in this pizza restaurant and now that none of us work there anymore I can tell you that my manager used to break our employee food rule and we’d trade three pizzas to Which Wich every Sunday in exchange for sandwiches. And oh, my, did we get the good end of the deal. They send over their longest sandwiches, stuff them full of meats and cheeses. They’d pack us little bags with chips and cookies in them. One day it was hotter than usual and they threw in some milk shakes for us, because they thought we might want them. They thought we might want them! We didn’t even ask! We didn’t even suggest that we thought we might one day rise so high in their favor! +1857 They never put olives on any of my sandwiches and whenever we called them, they sounded so grateful to hear from us that it was as if they were the ones who were blessed, they were the ones who were receiving a great prize.

Can we talk about how awesome they are? What about that logo of theirs? Have you seen it? It says Which Wich, but the bottom of the W, the bottom half, overlaps a loaf of bread so it’s like the v shapes are the slashes put in the bread to keep it from bursting. +8! Isn’t that imaginative? I know right? Simultaneously telling us what their name is and evoking the image of fresh bread? Honestly I don’t even care how fresh their bread is, they could get it at the day old store and I’d still eat it as long as they slathered it with hummus and honey mustard. Uggh have you had their honey mustard? Which Wich is the only place I’ll eat it now because nobody will ever be as good as them again.

And their cute little conveyor oven? I know all sandwich places have them, but it’s only cute at Which Wich. I like the idea of my sandwich getting on the conveyor belt, and it’s not sure what’s going to happen to it, but it’s just glad that it gets to be a sandwich, and it’s a little self-conscious and it hopes that I like it. It’s a little bit like being a bride on your wedding day, but nicer. It goes onto the conveyor belt and then all of a sudden it’s out of sight? What happens to it? The same things that happen to our bride friend. Its cheese melts and its crust toasts, and its eyebrows get plucked and its hair combed out so it’s really nice and shiny. The vegetables get all hot and start to juice out a bit, so all the flavors run together and when I take a bite they’ll run down my chin. It puts on a really pretty white dress and it puts something old and something new, something borrowed and something blue deep inside it, hidden to where only it knows which is which. Which is wich? Heh heh heh. The meat starts to sizzle and it says goodbye to its mom and to its dad, and then it’s out of the conveyor oven and I can see it again, and it’s the most beautiful sandwich in the world. I want to cry every time I see it, but I’m the man in this metaphor, and I can’t.

Also! The cups that their milkshakes come in! Can we please go back to the milkshakes! It’s not just that they’re amazing, it’s that the cups that they come in can totally be washed and reused at your home for all sorts of purposes! You can drink water out of those cups, you can drink orange juice, you can drink any kind of liquid you want, though I don’t recommend anything too hot just on principle because the plastic just isn’t that thick! +45 Still! Even without that structural problem, they are still awesome cups! I like any sort of cup that means I can increase my material net worth and take up more space in the cabinets than my roommates! Except my roommates also have these cups, so it’s impossible to tell who’s is who’s! That’s the problem with having roommates! We have the same issue when it comes to red UH cups that we stole from the dormitories before moving into real apartments! Moving away from each other is going to be a mess! I can’t stop ending sentences in exclamation points, because I love Which Wich so much!

Finally. Did you know that every single sandwich you would ever want to get at Which Wich, can also be made into a salad? Oh my God. I don’t even know what to add on to that, except that this is my greatest fantasy in life, for someone else to constantly be at my beck and call to make salads for me whenever I want them. +98 Which Wich, you know me so well. You understand my childhood pain of having to always make the salad for everyone else, and to never have the salad made for me. You get me, like nobody else ever has. I promise to love and cherish you, as long as we both shall live.