A Room Full of Heart Disease

OK - so I don't really consider myself a snob. Maybe other people would argue, but as far as snobs go I would count myself on the lower end of the scale. As a smartass I am well on my way to world champion caliber, but I don't consider myself a snob. The reason for this disclaimer is that I am about to embark upon a snobby post and I want it to be viewed as an anomoly of my character. Seriously - I am only snobby about a couple of things. Wine is one of them. I can't really remember the other one, but I am sure it is something entirely innocent. Really.

I am sure you are wondering at this point what I could possibly unleash a diatribe of snobbishness regarding??

I have two words for you: GOLDEN CORRAL

For some reason, Drew has decided that Golden Corral is the Best. Restaurant. Ever. I think it is actually my fault because when I was pregnant I could only eat potatos and since that didn't work all that well for Eric we would go to Golden Corral so he could get some semblance of real food. I paid those people a lot of money for their mashed potatos. And baked potatos. And french fries. But, it kept Eric from subsisting on a steady diet of starch and therefore we were both pretty happy with the set-up.

I actually think that part of the reason Drew likes it so much is he is Mr. Independent. He wants to be able to pick his own dinner - even if all he ever does is push it around his plate and poke at it and wait for me to tell him to "eat a bite of something that isn't made of refined sugar" or "there are starving babies in Africa" or "if you don't eat that right now I swear you will eat for breakfast, lunch and dinner until every last bite is gone."

I suppose it adds an element of excitement if the food he gets and doesn't eat is food that we are paying too much for. I also think he gets some kind of sick glee out of making me sound like a *gulp* parent instead of the cool, hip 30-something I really am.

Moving on...

It is time for the snobbishness to commence.

Have any of you been to Golden Corral? On a Sunday morning? If not, don't. If you have, I'm sorry.

Sunday at Golden Corral is...let me see if I can accurately describe it...it is like a trailer park filled with obscenely overweight people has taken a field trip to the land o'breakfast a'plenty.

I know. That is mean, but I accepted long ago that my ticket to hell has been purchased. It's first class. Bite me.

We watched a man that had to weigh slightly more than 400 pounds sit down on his chairs at the table with two plates of food. One plate was entirely devoted to meat. Bacon, pork chops, ham and sausage. It was a freakin' mountain of meat that would make any self-respecting carnivore proud. The second plate had corned beef hash, some hash browns and eggs. I was somewhat proud of the eggs because those are really healthy comparatively speaking. I would have actually congratulated him, but I was afraid of being sucked into his gravitational pull and being forced to orbit indefinitely.

It actually made me nauseated and effectively led to my eating healthy portions of healthier food. No sausage for me, thanks. I just can't believe that one person could eat...no, wants to eat...that much food. I swear I heard the faint sound of his heart screaming..."help me! heelllpp me!" like that fly in that movie that I know I should know the name of, but can't seem to think of at this moment. I suppose I am still slightly dizzy from the sight of that mountain of meat.

I just don't think I have ever gone to any other restaurant that is absolutely filled to the brim with fat people sporting poor oral hygiene. At first I thought - ok...they come here to fill up because they appear to be budgetarily challenged and you get all you can eat from salad to dessert. Then I realized that they are also all fat so they must be eating pretty good. And often.

I also realize the irony in my blog because I am lamenting all the fat, seemingly poor people at Golden Corral and I only know they are there because I was there. I get the irony. No need to shout. I'm just sayin'. Jeez.