yescomply

My sister used to have a friend who would keep a jar of green olives in the fridge, and just eat them at his leisure, like a snack. I used to think that was weird, but it’s not. They put nicotine or crack in those things. They have to. I’ve come to realize this.

I never liked green olives until I started as a waiter, and I’d have to find a way to pass the time while I waited for a drink order. As a waiter, you’re entitled to snack at the garnish tray whenever it meets your fancy (its frowned upon, but only if you get caught), and it’s really the only thing to do, aside from actual side-work.

So, one day, on an empty stomach, I dove into the first food available to me; those little green circles of death. Oh death, delicious death. Sure, they taste like the bottom side of a garbage can, sopping with the amalgamation of all possible garbage juices, but once you eat one, you have to have another: it’s the only way to wash the taste away. Even after you clear your palette of that fetid taste in your mouth, you somehow still crave it. You can sense its absence, and the only option to fill the void is more of those cursed olives. That or ice. I chose olives, and I stand by my choice.

There are worse things in life to be addicted to, like, crack, nicotine, caffeine, or Jesus.

I mean, green olives, yeah they smell, but they’re doused with antioxidants (which sounds like a bad thing, I know, but it’s actually good). Antioxidants makes me cancer free, which means I can use my cell phone as much as I want, hold it right up to my ear. No blue tooth for me. I can even lean my head on the microwave glass, like I did as a kid, watching my food do its enticing, circle dance. Watching your food in the microwave is like watching weird wedding rituals: it’s boring, you’ve seen it a thousand times, and you just can’t wait for it to be over, so you can eat. God, I need olives. Immediately.

If this blog starts your addiction to green olives, I apologizzle (that actually sounds pretty gross). But remember: you could be addicted to worse. You could be eating Jesus.

Goodnight, Moon

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