I think my employers are trying to kill me. I don't know what I have done to offend them so that they have risen up, banded together, and are seeking swift, or rather...semi-swift, well....really more like slow, painful retribution. Here is something I don't get. The kitchen staff where I work are all Mexican, so why can't they cook Mexican food? I know they haven't been Americanized since they can't speak English yet. I understand that cooking for upwards of 220 people can be daunting, but hell...they are Mexicans. Aren't they accustomed to preparing food in bulk for their family get togethers? The fajitas they cooked two nights ago resembled leprosy more than the delicious treat fajitas should be. Being adventurous, I tried it anyway. Turns out I don't like leprosy.

    The meal last night was a baked potato. Yes that's it. What a feast! I think I should have prepared for this kind of bounty. You don't believe me? Ok fine, I exaggerated slightly. There was snot cheese, runny chili sauce, a half-spoon of sour cream, and 3 chunks of broccoli. For desert, neatly laid on top, was a Rice Crispy Treat. So these culinary geniuses decide to throw it all together in a styrofoam container, while the broccoli and baked potato were still hot mind you. One doesn't have to be a physicist to know what is going to happen there. Let's just say my Rice Crispy treat had a flavor reminiscent of old broccoli and dead people and leave it at that. Nevermind how I know what dead people taste like. Obviously, after that first bite of Crispy treat, I didn't partake of the rest of the meal. My appetite was soured. *Chuck!* Into the garbage it flew.

    I know what you're thinking. No really I do. Starving kids in Cambodia or Ethiopia. Yeah, yeah, I'm selfish and wasteful, or so says 4 out of 5 ex-girlfriends in the exit poll.

    Well do you know what? Even if I mailed this "meal" to one of those fly-in-mouth kids, he would say "What the heck is this??" and pass. Ok, so maybe he wouldn't say heck, since that's what Mormons do. And if he was mormon he wouldn't need to ask what it was because he would already be an expert on poorly made Mexican food. And he wouldn't be starving because he would be an expert on eating. Maybe he wouldn't even be able to speak Engligh. It would probably sound more like "Nyah-ha-ninny-noo *Click* *Click* *Pop* Nihn-go sequa-sooli-seh *Click*". Regardless, we all would know what he meant when he flung the mockery of a meal right at our unprotected facial structure.

    Now you're thinking that you have never met anyone who can be so racist, such a culinary snob, and completely unfeeling to the naked kids in Ethiopia, all at the same time. I am rather impressive.

    It just seems to me that if you are going to be employed and paid to cook food, when it is supposedly ready for consumption it should at least appear to something edible as opposed to a contagion of pandemic proportions.

    While I'm on the subject of cooking. Why is it that every single person who has ever cooked, eaten, or even looked at lasagna thinks theirs is the best? How dumb is that? There could be lasagna out there laced with heroin. Bet yours can't beat that! Go ahead and try it, but caution...blindness may occur. Before you lose consciousness and fall asleep on your bathroom floor, that lasagna will change your life. Perhaps Heroinagna is really not the best, but neither is yours. I'm sorry to crush your dreams. Actually, no I'm not. It makes me feel better. Which I need, especially after eating your lasagna.

    Anyway, I think that the kitchen staff should either recieve training in how to make food, not poison, or acquiesce to a suitable punishment for their crimes against food and nature...and me. Everyone knows that my favorite consequence for bad behavior is a good flick in the eye ball, but I just don't see that as being effective or even warranted in this situation. This crisis calls for more drastic methods, I believe. I really just don't appreciate being poisoned slowly by a bunch of vengeful kitchen Mexicans. I think my employers should foot the bill for skin pigmentation altering therapy, and have all of them go MJ on us. At least that way their inability to cook ethnic foods could be rationalized.

    So off I go, in search of a solution to the dilemma. In the mean time, I make the best lasagna ever, you should come over and try it.