As I sit and stare across a sea of ugliness on the Q train, on my way to get a Karma reading, I can’t help but feel grateful for all the great things I’m accomplishing in my lifetime. Some would say, “Aren’t you bragging a bit Nando?” And my response is, “Hell yeah!”
Let me tell you a little story. Picture it: Odessa, Texas, 1985, it was the great bean and rice famine at the Rodriguez household and my father was struggling to make ends-meat for the family. Coincidentally, that was the same year I found my dad’s stash of Playboy and Hustler magazines that featured a super hero spread (needless to say I never saw Wonder Woman the same again-but I digress).
Trying to keep the family afloat and from starving, my dad accepted a job helping remove asbestos at a local school. As payment he was given a 3-months supply of steak fingers. This was 1985 and processed meat was a luxury.
At first the family celebrated. It wasn’t every day we had meat grace our plates. But as we entered month two, steak fingers weren’t easily digestible. As my mom tried to disguise the steak fingers in “Steak Fingers Enchiladas”, “Steak Fingers Lasagna” and the ever-mysterious “Steak Finger Surprise” which consisted of a mysterious combination of crunchy ingredients all hidden underneath a bubbly layer of cheese.
Finally, not being able to stand another day of eating steak fingers for breakfast, lunch and dinner–the youngest member of the family who will remain nameless (me) unplugged the freezer that housed the fingers and woke up to disastrous yet beautiful sight.
Not only had the steak fingers spoiled and gone bad over night leaving behind a stench that could only be compared to Courtney Love’s “hooch,” but at that same exact time there was a knock at the door; it was my uncle Lolo who owned a pig farm outside of Odessa. Well he bought the spoiled steak fingers for his pigs and we took that money and spent it on real food…Spam.
Moral of the story. I’m on my way to get my Karma read because the fridge in my current apartment is breaking down and I need to know if there’s a connection.
What? You wanted a life lesson? Who do I look like–Charles Dickens?