SHOVE THAT TURKEY!

In lieu of turkey (火雞 'fo kai') for dinner, it was curry lamb over rice (咖喱羊腩飯 'gaa lei yeung naam faan') for lunch. It would have been better if I had chosen what I usually get there -- pickled vegetables and porky bits over rice (榨菜肉絲飯 'jaa choi yiuk si faan') -- but I don't want to fall into a rut.
For some reason the Cantonese add way too much onion to their curries, and not enough good spicy stuff. But it was in any case far better than the frightful muck I had nearly a year ago at a place which won't be named.
I washed it down with two cups of milk-tea.

When I got home it was to discover that I had been mistaken. Rather than spending all day cooking and then shlepping food over to her brother's house, my apartment mate was heading out to a Chinese seafood restaurant with her kinfolk for the family feast.

Iz fabudis! Totally fabudis!

Fresh seafood!


Apparently I am not the only one not having turkey. But that's okay, I had roast duck yesterday, so I'm one bird ahead of the game.


All day long warm socially connected people with many friends and kin have been posting pictures of all the wunnerful stuff they are eating or going to eat. For that one day a year when all my facebook friends are as irritating as people on a Chinese social network.

My food. Our food. The food the next table over ordered. Random soup.
A waiter staggering under a tray of food. Mom with a lobster (all you can see is her hand at the edge of the frame). Dad at the buffet (corner of his shoulder visible). The buffet from a different angle. Another shot of the buffet. What we ate on the first day of the Alaskan cruise. Second day. Third, fourth, fifth day. Dessert selection. A red velvet cake in the shape of a lobster. Midnight snack (lobster thermidor). Fabulous frozen drinks.
An enormous alligator with an apple in its mouth.
Dingoes gloating all over Facebook.
Dammit. Dammit.


If I go to the smoking bar this evening, there will be almost nobody there because everybody I know is either out of town or at home stuffing their faces. Then around the middle of the evening drunkards will come in for a smoke, talking about how delicious and epicurean their Thanksgiving repast was, what fun, so ekswees, better than last year.
And they won't shut up.

Stay at home. I've already had my smoke for the day. One pipe while slowly ambling through Chinatown alleyways, another pipe down at Sue Bierman Park. A homeless person passed, screaming angrily. Another one near the bus stop laughed without reason, probably out of touch with reality.
There were no bums inside the park, and only a few parrots.
My apartment is quiet now. So is the neighborhood.
I should go to bed early. Around nine.
Gotta work tomorrow.




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