Here is a self-portrait.
Let me tell you a story, it's not something I'm particularly proud of, call it a moment of weakness.. but it is what it is.
This never would have happened if my co-worker hadn't ditched me. We were supposed to go to Burger King for the fish burger deal, but at lunch time I poked my head out of my cubicle to find that he had already left. So I went down to BK myself, but halfway there I had a craving for Bourbon St Grill.
Bourbon St Grill is a food court restaurant that has huge portions, relatively cheap and huge portions. Did I mention huge portions? I ordered the same thing I always get, the blackened fish with green beans on steamed rice. The fish is to die for, and the beans.. I've tried to make them but I can't figure it out. Somehow it's soggy the way I like them, but also crunchy the way I like them. And juicy. They're perfect. Their rice leaves much to be desired though, it's sort of this hard, non-sticky kind.
I stood in line and ordered, and then to my delight I found I had perfect amount of change to pay $21.54 so I could get $15 back in bills. Love it when that happens.. anyway I grabbed a handful of sauce packets, plastic cutlery and headed back to the office.
So anyway I was sitting there eating my lunch when I noticed I'd picked up some a packet of soy sauce amongst the packets I usually get (plum sauce, hot sauce). And that is when it happened.
With all the hard chewy rice, I wondered how this would taste with some soy sauce.. Right away my conscience spoke up ---
"Thinking about putting soy sauce in your rice?! What are you, a WHITE boy?"
I shook my head at the thought and continued eating. But the rice was really hard.
"Don't you DARE! BRIAN -- Stop this at once! Don't even think about it!!"
But I couldn't help it. In my mind I was already reaching towards the little packet. I was finding the rice hard to swallow, nearly choking on it. If I put some soy sauce, it might be easier to eat, I thought. Plus it would add some flavor.. The thought crept back into my head while I tried to resist the temptation to commit the unfathomable.
Finally, I stopped eating. I put down my chopsticks and looked around to make sure no one was looking. When the coast was clear, I tore into the soy sauce. I splashed it around in the rice, cackling with an evil but sinister super villainous laugh. It was like one of those homicidal pyromaniacs who splash gasoline all over their victims in the movies, before they light them on fire. All the while being extremely cautious as to not attract any attention, of course. Then I stirred furiously and, in a matter of seconds, my white rice was now brownish. I had done it.
I had mixed soy sauce into my rice, and somewhere, in the great beyond or perhaps underground, an old chinese man rolled over in his grave.