Tuesday, April 27, 2010

A whole lotta bologna

Some would argue I am a bit of a picky eater. For one, I hate fish... Which being a Florida native, just downright perplexes people. I've always maintained the stance that if it comes from the sea, it ain’t for me. I don't really enjoy tapioca pudding either, not quite sure why, but I think it’s a texture thing. I used to try to convince my grandfather I loved broccoli, and would slip it under the table to the Doberman that served as my four legged trash compactor. Of course, now that I’m old enough to know it’s actually good for you I really do enjoy it…That and my parents called malarkey on my food’s disappearing act a long time ago. But there was one food in particular I just couldn’t stand. And this food had a first name: O-S-C-A-R.

I HATE bologna. Bologna is such a bullshit lunch meat. I’ve never been a fan of it. Ever. I did love me some Vienna sausages, but trust me.. They won't lend themselves well to my story, at least the crowd with a maturity level above that of a twelve year old. After all, they do kinda resemble a jar of pickled baby penises. And what twenty six year old wants anything to do with that? So we will just stick to the “over processed shreds of whatever the hell animal parts are left after they carve out the good stuff”-- for all intents and purposes.

For as long as I can remember however, I have always been a steak girl. Ever since my parents introduced me to the magnificence that is filet mignon well, it’s been love at first bite. And now it’s no different. Don't get me wrong, protein is protein, and I enjoy my chicken, and certainly my pork-- just as much as the next non Jewish/Muslim person anyway. But, nothing really compares to the satisfaction I get from having a good steak.

Unfortunately for me with my busy schedule, and what seems to be a calendar full of photo shoots, I can't really afford to eat my favorite meal seven nights a week, nor do I think my metabolism could handle the crazy process it takes to dismantle it in my stomach. But believe me when I say, if my digestive tract could handle it, I most certainly would.

Before I continue, I guess I should come clean about a few things. I have kinda, sorta been seeing someone. Given my dating history the past few years, and my track record for picking more consistent winners than my show’s numbers guy (note the use of sarcasm), I'm not the type of girl to just jump head first into things. Especially things I seemingly know little about. So I've played it cool with this one. Haven't given away the farm, nor did I place all my eggs in one figurative basket. But I do like the guy. And as far as I can tell, he seems to like me.

That is, unless you live on the internet like I do. The interweb is a crazy place, especially when it seems all of your life and your transgressions can be documented, sometimes even in one hundred and forty characters or less. I know Facebook has been cockblocking me since 2004, and now with programs like Twitter and Foursquare, well, why don’t I just stick a GPS up my ass and get it over with. I don’t really like the fact I can find out what someone is doing on Twitter, which is why I have never followed anyone I had dated, or been interested in dating. I dunno, I just felt like it was an invasion on their privacy and I’m not the snooping variety. But with this guy, he’s been in my feed since well, before the beginning.. so, I wouldn’t want him to feel shafted by me not following him anymore. I actually think he likes it. Besides, aren’t you supposed to show interest in the other person’s happenings? Meh.

Regardless, he’s a single, attractive man.. and I am not exactly bologna. At least that is what my mom tells me. I figured he was well aware I was a prime cut of meat. I mean, I’m 26, gainfully employed; I take good care of myself.. and have a marginally good personality. And if you happen to be the least bit funny, I hear I’m also an easy laugh. (That has instilled much confidence in my costar Reese Waters joke telling abilities.) I dunno how it is for you guys, but that package right there is a tough one to find.

Still, I have found myself time and time again dating guys that are willing to go slumming for some bologna when things weren’t perfect. Were men just that easy to please, or were they just settling for what was readily available? Unfortunately with my busy schedule, I might as well be a steak. I take forever to prepare and season, and half the time you’re fighting with my work schedule just to get a freakin’ reservation to the joint. But I assure you any time they do get to spend with me.. is well worth the wait.

While doing my daily show research in the green room, I happened to stumble across “The Dude’s” Twitter feed. (I’ll call him this for now, because it’s late, and I am entirely too tired to come up with anything remotely symbolically creative. But if he makes it to another blog, I promise I will make it something fairly entertaining.)
So.. back to the tweet.

WHAT?.. It’s a legitimate excuse, and that’s exactly how it happened. This particular tweet that came through my feed was to another female. I’m not the jealous type at all, and I more than anyone understand the plus side of looking single as a means of furthering your career. But that doesn’t mean I don’t take others feelings into consideration before I just start posting things on the web. Because regardless of what men tell you, they do snoop, and they do get jealous.. they would just rather you believe they didn’t.

Being a woman hidden under this frat boy exterior, my curiosity got the better of me. I clicked on her link. And then another link. Turns out.. they hang out. Who knows how regularly, but there were some fairly chummy pictures out there to be found by anyone with half a cyber brain. And he was certainly still entitled to be seeing other people, it’s not like “the talk” had taken place yet. But still… This chick was pure bologna. It wasn’t even that she wasn’t attractive, or that she didn’t have a good personality. I mean, can you really know anything about a person in one hundred and forty characters and an outdated MySpace page anyway?.. But.. really??? What the heck would someone want THAT for.. let alone when he’s got something like me??? My girl brain started to do unhealthy gymnastics… and of course jumped to worse case scenarios. I was hurt to say the least.

I closed out the X’s before my co-stars saw what I was up to. It was lunch time on the playground that is the Daily Line’s studio, and I usually find myself picking on something green, while the boys feast on Wendy’s or whatever leftovers they have scrounged up from home. On this particular day however, I was feeling particularly girly, and in a vulnerable state. Not something I would normally reveal to my male cohorts, but… then something happened that set me off.

Reese pulled out a bologna sandwich. (I can’t even make this shit up)

“You cannot be f*cking serious? Who over the age of nine actually eats bologna? Haven’t you graduated to something a little more.. I dunno.. refined.. age appropriate… something???” I chirped.

“What’s wrong with bologna?” Reese asked.

“EVERYTHING!” I said. “It’s the most bullshit of lunch meat. I would take you more seriously as a food connoisseur if you whipped out a f*cking Lunchable than you pulling a bologna sandwich.”

“Well, damn, then I won’t give you the one I brought for you then,” he said, pulling out a second sandwich.

I could’ve screamed.

“You don’t get it. My entire dating career, I have ended up with dudes that were just fine settling for bologna. Why?.. I get it. Relationships are tough, especially with people like us that do what we do.. but that’s no reason to get rejected for a piece of lunch meat I couldn’t even convince my cat to eat.”

By now, a full out debate had broken out in the green room on the value of bologna and its relevance to my dating life. Several crew members had gathered by this point, as had Rob, and watched on as the two of us did battle. I stood posed in the door way as I defended my stance on men’s inability to recognize a good thing when they see it. And Reese being Reese, flailed his arms around wildly while still managing to hold onto his sandwich. That is, until it flew out of his grip and landed on the floor between us.

It took everything in my power not to laugh. Reese’s shitty lunch, somehow managed to out-shitty itself. But what happens next answered the age long question of why people will settle for next to crappiness and less than mediocre mates.

Reese picked up the sandwich. Removed the slice of bread that had touched the floor, and proceeded to eat the remainder of the sandwich, open faced. The room, myself included, looked on in disgust.

“What?” he garbled with a mouth full of food.

“UGH, men.” And with that, I turned and left the room.

Maybe people settle for things not because they want to, but because sometimes having something better is just too much work. Sure, Reese could have thrown out his sandwich, but .. why waste the other perfectly good piece of bread and mayo-slathered lunch meat. He’s young and can still get away with slumming it every lunch and again. Or maybe he just simply doesn’t realize what he’s missing out on.

The point is.. who knows who this mystery lady was?.. Or what her connection was with “The Dude”? I may never know. While part of me may have been a little jealous, the other part of me laughed. Who was I to judge someone else’s taste in mates anyway?.. Some people will never realize what they are missing until it’s just beyond their grasp. Others will wise up, simply because they figure out they enjoy the finer things in life, and that prime cuts are harder and harder to come by these days. I know I certainly have over the years. One thing’s for sure, I may have settled for a hamburger or two in my twenty six years, but I will never touch a piece of bologna for as long as I live. After all, once you’ve had filet… there’s really no going back.

8 comments:

WhiskeyBoarder said...

You were gracious enough to respond to my tweet in passing yesterday. You have joined limited company with the likes of Shane Carwin, Bill Plaschke, and Tony Reali in doing so. Following your twitter response has led me here, and I have to say that I am thrilled to know that my limited interaction was not just with someone of fame, but also with someone with depth of character as well.

I am not even going to pretend to be able to give advice on the situation referenced in this blog. Even if I had attempted to do so, my maturity level would prohibit me from continuing the meat analogy in any respectable way. Even now, I'm resisting every urge to suggest that you consider becoming a vegetarian... lol. But I do, in all seriousness, wish you the best of luck.

I just wanted to express my gratitude for your response on twitter yesterday. While doing so, I would hope to encourage you to keep posting here; it was an interesting read, and it is cool that you provide insight that allows the rest of us some assurance that you all “living the life” have to deal with everyday reality as well.

Again, thanks for posting here and responding on twitter. Good luck with your career and all else. And try to stay away from the middle of any Dana White / Ariel Helwani confrontations.

And, finally, GO BULLS! :)

Thanks.

swampy said...

I have kids so a "5 Second Rule" applies to food dropped in our house. I would have eaten the sandwich too.

But that is not the point, the point is that nobody should ever have to settle for bologna when there is steak to be had. You deserve someone who knows & appreciates the difference.

Warren Wallace said...

Here's the thing, some guys like bologna AND they like filet mignon. The bologna for it's convenience, and the filet mignon when the time and situation allow for it. You're right that prime cuts are tough to come by, and I suspect that guys who are more experienced are aware of that. Meat metaphors aside, it's simply a matter of trust. Either you trust someone, or you don't, and in many cases the only way to figure that out is by logging time and experience with the individual. Good luck with "The Dude" and I'll spare you the chin up and soldier on crap if it doesn't pan out. One tip if I may...maybe avoid Twitter investigations while in the green room with Reese "The Bologna Man" Waters in your proximity :)

Anonymous said...

don't take this the wrong way Jenn, but 2 quick facts about men. Being pretty gets old very fast if it's not backed up w/ personality. Not saying you don't have it, but perhaps the dude found some of that what he is specifically looking for with the 'bologna'. Your personality is not necessarily this rare prime cut of meat. Some like it rare, others medium or well-done, but it remains a prime cut of meat. Plenty of flavors to go around. Secondly, don't try to be the frat boy. Men like women who know about sport and all, but they should be feminine above all. The female will never be able to think as a male (obviously, nor will we ever be able to think the other way around either). Pretending to be one of the other is fun for a little while, but will make you look foolish on the long run.

Roger said...

Having followed your blog on a periodic basis, I have always been truly impressed with your a) your perspective on things and b) your eloquence in conveying it.

As a happily married guy (see "Dave Barry's Guide to Guys" for a brilliant thesis on the differences between "Guys" and "Men") I am constantly having to assure my wife that any female friends I have on Facebook are simply that - friends.

Keep telling it like it is - I know I enjoy reading it.

Jeremy from We Took The Bait said...

Even the really tiny GPS trackers, like the Spark Nano, look like they'd be really uncomfortable if inserted rectally.

Why not just go the microchip route?

Your bowels will thank you.

Anonymous said...

It does no good to judge the tastes of others. I don't care for bologna myself, but I would never begrudge someone for enjoying something simple and unrefined. If it brings them a little bit of happiness, it's not my place to tell them that they're wrong.

Eventually most people move onto things that provide a deeper level of satisfaction, but when it comes to something meaningless like sandwich nostalgia (or a bit of excitement at the idea of catching a foul ball), it's just plain mean to turn your nose up in disdain.

friend said...

Two thoughts:

1) Wasting food is like littering - it shows a lack of respect for the world around us. I'd admire Reese rather than admonish him.

2) You may be filet or you may be scrapple, but judge not that ye be not judged.