I Wish I Had A Better Title For This Entry

Yesterday was not a particularly stellar day in Betland.

I pretty much didn't go to bed Wednesday night, two cups of coffee and a case of The Hinkies kept me up till about 5:30, after which I went and stretched out on the bed just long enough for my alarms (all 3 of them) to go off, then it was up and a quick dash of getting ready for work.

And I felt wretched. And so I just picked out the first and most comfortable thing I came to, which was a pair of navy capris and a light green long-sleeved polo shirt. I threw on my white tennies and was out the door. I was out the door thinking, "Ohhhh, Lord if I can just make it till lunch time I can come back to The Pod and get an hour's sleep."

Then as I was walking up to the back door of the building, it hit me. There'd be no hour-long nap that day. Because Thursday was the day of the local Downtown Development Corporation's Annual Luncheon. And there I was dressed like I just got up out of the flower patch.

And I'd get no sleep.

Normally the luncheon is in the Downtown area, in the basement of one of the local churches, is catered by a local grocer, attended by folks from Downtown businesses, and a good time is had by all. And I'm not being facetious, it really is a nice luncheon. It was particularly fun the year the Mayor, the Town Council, the Town Manager, and several of the town's businessowners got into a fight during the post-lunch discussion session. That was a really good luncheon.

However. This year. You know, this year, with the advent of the razing of not only the Town Hall but the store of the local grocer who catered our previous luncheons, and the mass exodus of activity from the actual Downtown area to points south in the town, I guess it was all destined to be a little different. And I was right.

The luncheon was held at the college here in town, a small, private, Southern Baptist-affiliated college. We knew it was somewhere on campus but didn't know where. And after a short amount of rambling, we found it. In the cafeteria. In the fucking cafeteria.

We went in and it, well, it smelled like a school cafeteria. They had us set up in a little collapsible-walled area in the upper corner of the room, and we went in only to find that the room wasn't even the size of the old church basement. But the four TheCompanyIWorkForGirls found a table, occupied it, and waited for the lunch to start being served.

And that's when they informed us we need to go ahead and get our lunches.

Yes, we heard right. Go get our lunches. We had to go through the cafeteria line.

Oh, boy.

So there we went, through the doorway, picked up a tray, picked up our silverware, and started this Journey of Hell that was sliding our trays down that cafeteria line. Desserts came first. Desserts are, of course, out for me. But I did find some fresh fruit. The trough of fresh fruit was pretty much down to the nubs though, so after spooning and spooning I still came away with only three squares of cantaloupe and two grapes.

Then, and hold on to your hats for this one, we hit the beans. I think they were your garden variety white beans, but they were so much more, really. There were pieces of ham, well, I'm assuming it was ham because I can't imagine it would be legal if it were what it actually looked like, floating around in there and I gave the beans a quick pass. As did everyone apparently, because it looked to be that nary a bean had been lifted from the bowl.

Next we came to something green. Now, I'm quite the devotee of kale, and of spinach if it's done right. And so, little leap-of-faith-taker that I am, I took a chance on the greens.

There were pita sandwiches that looked very Italian. San in front of me picked up one and it fell apart, so I gave it a pass as well.

That left two items to go on the menu at Cafeteria Barfé. Some red mushy stuff, and some potatoes. Since I knew what the potatoes actually were, I went ahead and got some. (They were "not" potatoes, btw - not mashed, not fried, not baked, not tater tots, not hash rounds. They were just squares of potato.) Then looking at my sad plate, with a spoonful of green stuff, the cantaloupe and two grapes, and the not-potatoes, I said, "What the hell, if I die, I die," and dove into the red mushy stuff. Which a lady told me as I was spooning it out was beef barbecue.

And so we went back to our table and well, it wasn't pretty. The fruit wasn't bad, but I attribute that to God, I guess. The rest of it was just gagalicious. The greens were a taste I'd truly never experienced before, and I got to thinking about how nicely mown the grounds of the campus were as we were walking along earlier. And my bites got smaller and smaller.

The potatoes were just, I don't know what they were just. They were just hard. They were just tasteless. And they were just salted into submission.

And the barbecue was what I would imagine barbecue would be if it were a flavor of baby food. It certainly was that consistency.

So for about 10 minutes I'd take a pinch of barbecue pablum, move a blade of grass or two on top of it, and try and choke it down. Then the speakers started coming to the podium, and it was like someone arriving at the electric chair with a pardon from the governor.

Or so I thought.

The "hostess" for the thing was a local woman from TheCompanyIDon'tWorkFor. Now, has anyone seen "Blazing Saddles?" Remember the schoolmarm who gives the speech at the town meeting? Talking so quietly no one can hear? Well, put that woman's voice up about two octaves and add a constant giggle to it, and you'll be starting to get the idea. There's a word I'm thinking of, and the word is "annoying."

So, various and sundry speakers came up and talked about all the great things that were supposed to be coming to B'field. "Two Fortune 500 companies" showed interest. "Several major restaurants." Of course, no one mentioned any names, so again the rumor mill will start about who wants to come to B'field. I personally didn't believe it was true anyway, so my wondering lasted about 4 minutes.

Then, as someone was boasting about all the new businesses who'd come in in the last year (69 was the number, I think), San looked at me in disbelief. "Well, that's what he said," I whispered back. And she thought a moment and said something, earnestly, innocently, and quietly - that was so hilarious I was worthless for the rest of the luncheon.

The sad part is that I can't tell you what it was because it was so offensive. Which is truly a shame. However, just as I'd get a little calmed down and look away to steel my nerves, I'd start again, usually proceeded by a small "eeeeeeeee" just before the tee hees. Tears were running down my face, my mascara was beginning to run.

And finally, thankfully, it was over.

As everyone was streaming out, I made a bee-line for the coffee pots and got a cup of coffee to go. That also gave me a chance to say hi to, and get a hug from, one of my favorite kids in the world, Drewie, who's just finishing his first year at Virginia Tech. He's a trainer for the Hokies, and showed me his Sugar Bowl ring.

Quite impressive. A hell of a lot more impressive than lunch, that's for damn sure.

Betland's Olympic Update:
* OK, Proof Positive Horoscopes Are A Bunch of Crap, Part 2. For the second day in a row:
"The stars have arranged a day that's just perfect for exchanging vows -- or promises, at the very least. The good news is that everyone will be a lot more prone to think before they speak, so, for once, you can actually believe that the people around you are just as liable to keep their word as you always are. It's not always easy for you to trust, but now's the time to enjoy honest, candid communication."
* Yeah, right.