IF YOU like your belly like I do, then the first part of today’s column is specially dedicated to you. I’m not implying engagement in one of the cardinal sins like gluttony or anything so, but simply eating some delicious, belly-good, wholesome food.
Of course, “wholesome” is relative, much like my overweight cousin, who maintains that 20 jumping jacks is “vigorous exercise”. But for you who have been trying to meet the challenge of eating healthy in order to lose weight, live longer or perhaps because you’re into masochism, lean in a little closer.
I was at a certain establishment the other day and about to pay through my nose for some all-natural food, which was supposedly an organic specialty that I was convinced to purchase. I decided to whip out the extra cash, since this would have been healthier than my cheaper alternative: a chunk of cake and my favourite soft drink.
So, imagine my surprise when I happened to glance at the server – she was either an old-looking 30 or a young-looking 50. She was digging like she was in stiff competition with COW and the fellas who move the earth to please.
Left ear, right ear, left nostril, centre of head. No visible orifice was spared. To make matters less appetizing, the excavationary findings were nonchalantly flicked delicately close to what was supposed to be my delicacy.
And as if to verify that nastiness was the order of the day, after I placed my order, there was this sound of sinus. The guttural resonance of using the tongue to tickle the throat while swallowing slime. Needless to say, after that there was no eating for the remainder of the day.
So now here’s the second part of this article, for those of you not necessarily interested in healthy eating. Have any of you ever rented one of the rooms offered for a few hours, so that you can get away from it all, perhaps with a special someone? If not, have you ever noticed the NATION Classifieds where advertisers offer “$50 for a three-hour romantic getaway”?
Again, “romance” could be relative, much like my uncle who gifts my aunt with matches from the supermarket to “keep the fire burning”. In this world of relativity, romance cum love cum “love-up” cum “cyber friendship” . . . it can all be a bit overwhelming and confusing. Instead of contemplating on semantics and the use of the word “romance” in the ad, let’s instead concentrate on the arithmetic of the proposition.
I wonder which “version” of romance occurs in the three-hour segment . . . or if the entire time is used up at all.
For example, some Toms, Dicks and Harrys (or is it “Harries”?) may only need two minutes to execute their uncut, unedited rendering of romance. So, to those advertisers, is the $50 meant to be “ . . . or part thereof”?
Because without this insertion, one could mathematically propose that the amorous encounter should only cost about 55 cents . . . You dig?
Veoma Ali is an author, actor, broadcaster, advertising exec and most importantly, a karaoke lover.
