Am I Really Chomping on my Meatball Sub Like Shaquille O’Neal?

Looks like my dinner from last night.

Looks like my dinner from last night.

Sometimes I forget I am two feet tall. I really don’t need that much food to keep this body going. I am active – yes. I exercise – yes again. But do I really need six tacos for lunch?


            Dare I say it? I get hungry and I like to see what culinary wonders I can enjoy.

            Here’s the caveat: If a meal is skipped, hang onto your hats people, because it’s like the Detroit Red Wings have stepped into my stomach, viewed the buffet at Shoney’s and shouted, “Let’s do this.”

            I would like to learn how to be a dainty eater.

            Last week, my family when out to dinner to really great Mexican restaurant. As I inhaled some queso fundido, I noticed a well put-together woman at the table next to us. She must have been in her sixties, a sharp dresser, slender, and lovely nails. She sat relaxed in her chair and chatted with her family.

            She did not eat the chips.

            Who does not eat the chips?

            In between gulps of gooey cheese, I noticed something else; the woman (let’s call her Kate) was looking at the bowl of tortilla chips as if it was Bradley Cooper with his shirt off. Her family was going to town on the bowl, but she just sat there, eyeballing that dish and slightly quivering.

            Aha! She wanted those chips. Big time. Yet she would not eat them.

            I was so fascinated by this display, or lack thereof. It was like watching the condors at the zoo. I wanted to chant, “Eat the chips! Eat the chips!” then take her out to Schlotzky’s for a Muffalatza.

            Jeeez, she was at least sixty, live a little.

            It was then that I realized I will never be Kate. I could never be the properly restrained eater. The person who ingests just enough to be satisfied. Oh sure, I go through phases when I don’t eat like a coyote with mange, but not often enough.

            I get hungry damn it.

            This affliction runs in the family. My mother has it, and she has bequeathed it to my sister and me.  When my sister and I are hungry we could chew through concrete to get to the salad bar.

Our husbands have learned to compensate accordingly. My sweet brother in law will say things to my sister like, “Maybe you should have a snack.” Taking a more direct approach, my husband likes to throw a bologna sandwich at me until I am able to form complete sentences.

            My sister and I call it hypoglycemia. Others call is the Run for your life, the beasts are famished!

            My maternal grandmother has a hybrid of this type of gobbling. She is a lithe woman who eats slowly, yet with purpose. I have seen that lady put away an entire lobster, all its fixings without, then dessert so much as a gulp of air. We like to say creative things like, “Gee Grammie, I guess you weren’t hungry.” To which she just smiles and says, “Yes, it was very tasty.”

            While Grammie can eat, she is also disciplined and will not snack between meals. She has this gig down.

            I would like to send Kate to the engulfing school of Grammie.

            Life is too short. There is a lot of delicious food out there. We should enjoy it without giving ourselves indigestion.

            While I do intend on “taking it down a notch” in the eating like the hunchback of Notre Dame over my plate of ravioli, I still intend to enjoy my food with verve.

            The next time you go out to dine, don’t be like Kate; be like Grammie. Take your time and enjoy it.

            I am sure the buffet at Shoney’s would agree.

Am I Really Comparing Magic Mike to a Chimichanga?

Wow, those dudes are super gross.  Beefy biceps, taught abs, and buns of steel – barf….is the way I would feel if this was opposites day.  Seriously, those bodies are ridiculous. C’mon! Just look at Joe Manganiello, can a six-pack really look like that??

Since the movie came out weeks ago, this post is a bit overdue. I realize this. However I was on a Sea World vacation extravaganza, so please, indulge me.

A few weeks ago (yes, opening weekend), some friends and I hand dinner and drinks and pre-ordered are tickets to see Magic Mike. I thought that this would be some type of fun, light-hearted girls-night-out watching a silly flick. And by “girls” I mean “women in their forties ogling over twenty-somethings.”

I was slightly wrong.

The movie had a much grittier edge than anticipated. And while I could have watched Channing – oops my panties just fell off – Tatum dance for the entire movie, the movie left me with an eerie feeling.

When the credits rolled at the end revealing that Steven Soderbergh directed it (you know, the guy who did Traffic and Erin Brockovich), I felt like I was in the end of that Seinfeld episode when Jerry and the gang all exclaim, “Oh! Delores!” It all made sense then.

Armed with this directorial realization and having just returned from my San Diego-guacamole-induced-coma, I find it apropos to take a look at Magic Mike through the eyes of a plate of Mexican food.

Please Note – I am not a movie critic, nor have I ever been a movie critic. I do not feel a movie is complete unless it has at least one fart joke or Vince Vaughn in it, so roll with that when reading the below:

1)      Characters – CHILE VERDE BURRITO – These characters are well developed and some even made me a little sad.  I was left feeling satisfied and full, all wrapped up in one blanket of a story, and I even had a little left over to take home and devour the next day.

2)      Acting – MIXED ENCHILADA PLATE – I thought everyone did a fantastic job. As a movie-goer, if you did not like one actor’s job, trust me, you liked another. There was something for everyone.

3)      Dude-age – ULTIMATE NACHO PLATE – Everyone like nachos! And this movie was cast perfectly. Trust me, you will not be disappointed.

4)      Plot – FISHERMAN’S PLATTER – Okay, I know this is not a Mexican dish, but let me tell you, that story was NOT what I was expecting.  At one point I felt bad that I was just going to see Channing – oops I tripped and my hand landed on your pecs – Tatum. I wanted to hand out baked goods to male prostitutes and addicts on the street after I saw this flick. What I did not want to do was score a bunch of $1.00s from 7-11 and cruise over the Golden Banana off Route 1. And if you have ever had a Fisherman’s Plate, it’s pretty good at the time, but you do not want to take the stuff home with you.

5)      Skin-to-Clothing Ratio – BEEF TACOS – I think this is self-explanatory.  At one point it was too much (SPOILER ALERT – You know when Matthew McConaughey was “training” the new guy in those yellow shorts. I had to avert my eyes for a bit.).

6)      Dancing – QUESO FUNDIDO W/CHORIZO – For those of you whom have never experience the magic of the queso fundido, I weep openly for you. This appetizer (if done correctly) is like a dream, wrapped in a wish, living on a cloud with butterfly wings. Yeah I know. So is Channing – did my top just fall off? – Tatum’s dancing. Holy crap people! I could have watched this guy dance for two hours without a plot or dialogue. Yes, he is that good.

Now you don’t need to go see the movie, just kidding. If you were skeptical, it’s worth checking out.

So grab the DVD and some Mexican take-out.  See what dish, in your opinion complements the movie best.

Just don’t go full monty on your Del Taco. It will just leave you uncomfortable and bloated. No bueno.