Ugh.

Toph’s bending is assistive technology!!! It’s a medical aid!!!!!

Heated basket?

Her name was Rebecca.  Well, I assumed.  She introduced herself as Becca when we typed to each other on the dating site, and again when we met at the restaurant.

“I’m Becca,” she said, sure of herself, with a boldness that brushed away any doubt. 

It was awkward, you know, getting to know someone while stressing over what to order and what to say.  Do I tell Becca how I like her necklace, even though I don’t?  Do I tell her about how it’s cold outside, and that it seems like winter is really coming early this year? 

Thankfully, I suppose, I didn’t have to worry about that; Becca’s cherry lips spewed forth rapids of speech, drowning out any worry that I might say something I would regret later on.  Her scarf hung off her neck like a ribbon—like she had just won first place for ugliest scarf and she wanted the whole world to know of her victory.  I sat, overdressed in a tie and black pants, wishing I was back home doing anything else.

Becca told me about her obnoxious roommate, her “fast-paced” consultant job, and her love of hiking.  I told her what I was going to order, after she finally took a breath to ask. 

The waitress soon returned to take down my order of the parmesan chicken and Becca’s order of some sort of salad.  The brief pause to convey our orders was a welcome respite, too quickly taken away by the waitress’s absence. 

Our food came soon enough, and at last I could fill my ears with the sound of silverware striking the chicken instead of Becca’s complaints.  Still though, I grew exasperated.

I sighed, audibly.  Becca abruptly stopped, her face quickly taking a harsh tone, condemning me for my action.  For the first time, it seemed, her eyes met mine, as she set her fork down on her stack of lettuce.

“What, am I boring you?” she scowled. 

“No, no, of course not.  I’m just tired.“  I said, with a degree of honesty that surprised even myself. 

“Oh ok, well so yeah I’ve always wanted to go to the Grand Canyon but I think it would be too hot you know?  Like what do you even pack for–”

My head was pounding. 

“Becca, excuse me,” I said, reflexively picking up my plate of chicken parm and heading for the exit at a deliberate pace.  I gave the waitress two twenties on the way out and stepped into the cold night air.

I ventured over to the edge of the parking lot, and after finding a suitable cement parking slab, (what are those called?) took a seat.

The chicken tasted better cold, fresher certainly, and I enjoyed every bite.

“Do you do this often?” came a somewhat recognizable voice from behind me. 

It was the waitress.  “Believe it or not, this is the second time I’ve left a date to eat my chicken parm in the parking lot,” I admitted. 

It was the third.

She laughed.  “Well, we kind of need the plate back,” she said, motioning towards it.

“Oh, of course,” I blushed, handing it to her.

“Thanks, and if I may,” she paused and I told her to go on, “It was pretty rude of you to leave the date early.  Even if you didn’t like her, you shouldn’t have left like that.”

She was right.  I needed to stop leaving dates early to finish my chicken parms in parking lots. 

“It tastes better in the cold night air,” I said.  The words slipped out of my mouth; I knew they were ridiculous, and I instantly feared she would judge me.

“Oh, you’re definitely right,” she said, “All poultry tastes better cold." 

"Yeah I know!  You ever just eat your frozen dinners…”

“…right out of the freezer?" 

I nodded enthusiastically.  We were made for each other.  I had found the woman of my dreams. 

Listen in the past the poor have had to improvise cheap food the rich never wanted as a means to survive. And over the many years of innovation made the food taste good until eventually the rich where like: “Oh hay you actually like that garbage? Why on earth would you like it?” Then they try it, love it, start buying it, and then drive the price up so much it becomes a luxury good.

They do this and its devastating, the food typically never becomes affordable again. It don’t matter how cheap the foo dis to produce, it doesn’t matter if there is almost no meat on the bone or its super difficult to eat and messy. Once the poor discover how to make some bit of cheap food taste good, the rich take it away via driving the price of it up.

THEY DID THIS TO RIBS.

Ribs were garage meat. Just look at them, there is hardly any meat on the bone, you have to eat them by hand usually, and they are messy. They where an undesirable cheap source of junk meat. But the poor being the poor made them taste good. (Because they don’t have much to choose from.) The rich discovered the meals the poor made with them and decided they liked ribs too. People discovered they could sell a few ribs to rich people and make way more money then selling lots of ribs to poor people and the price was driven up.

It was a cheap meat because no rich person looks at the dangly part of the neck of a cow and goes ‘ooh, that looks tasty!’.

But then Food Network started showcasing things like barbecued brisket.  Rich people started showing up at places that weren’t just Rib Crib to get their barbeque.  And the price of brisket went up.  A lot.

I regularly see it for over five dollars a pound in stores now.  And while yeah, that might not seem like a lot when you’re talking only a pound or two of meat, brisket is normally sold in ten to twenty pound sizes.  It’s become completely unaffordable to the people that made it delicious.

Sushi used to be really cheap, too, until it became ‘trendy’.  Guess why you’re now paying twelve dollars for your order of California rolls?  Because rich people discovered something that poor people had been eating for ages.