Lila's traumatic 24 hours of food incidents…
Last night, as we were walking home from sushi dinner – Karl told me about the day’s lunch with his cube neighbor. “They were the best chicken feet e-VER.” The trauma caused me to forget everything else about the conversation. I do remember something about toe hairs falling off the bones oh so gently. He swears he said 'skin' not 'toe hairs.' I think my story is better. Either way, YUCK!
I work in the middle of nowhere – 1 hour outside of Shanghai. Everyday I bring my lunch. Today I forgot my forks/chopsticks from home. So I went to the office kitchenette and started rummaging through drawers. This happened one other time when I was forced to use 2 coffee stirrers as make-shift chopsticks. Just as I was about to resort to fake-chopsticks, the cleaning lady came and got me a cup. I know how to say “cup!” But that’s not wanted I wanted. Finally I got an engineer to help translate what I was looking for. The cleaning lady walked over to the --- get this --- refridgerator and pulled out plastic ware. Expensive storage.
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