Although, now that I see it, I kinda wonder why not.
As for the mouthful of direct-injection ketchup followed by french fry, my lovely and well-educated and endlessly classy wife does that! If she’s eating french fries while driving, she’ll tear open a ketchup packet with her teeth, suck out some ketchup, then insert fistful of fries, then signal a lane change. First time I saw it I was amazed, appalled, and a bit envious of her ingenuity.
I love ketchup on my fries, but forego it when I’m driving, because eating that way honestly never occurred to me as viable human behavior.
The gold nuggets of Cap’n Crunch pelt the bottom of the bowl with a sound like glass rods being snapped in half Tiny fragments spall away from their corners and ricochet around on the white porcelain surface. World-class cereal-eating is a dance of fine compromises. The giant heaping bowl of sodden cereal, awash in milk, is the mark of the novice. Ideally one wants the bone-dry cereal nuggets and the cryogenic milk to enter the mouth with minimal contact and for the entire reaction between them to take place in the mouth. Randy has worked out a set of mental blueprints for a special cereal-eating spoon that will have a tube running down the handle and a little pump for the milk, so that you can spoon dry cereal up out of a bowl, hit a button with your thumb, and squirt milk into the bowl of the spoon even as you are introducing it into your mouth. The next best thing is to work in small increments, putting only a small amount of Cap’n Crunch in your bowl at a time and eating it all up before it becomes a pit of loathsome slime, which, in the case of Cap’n Crunch, takes about thirty seconds.
-Neal Stephenson, Cryptonomicon
When I was a kid, I was always agast when my father put pepper on his watermelon. Nowadays, living in a Latino neighborhood, I can’t imagine melon without Chile and lime.
I dread the thought of living in a predominantly gringo neighborhood again. I like that that I have a selection of chorizo, I have a street nickname (they call me Gin’n’juice), and I know every pitbull in a half a mile radius.
It also tickles my funny Bone every time I buy something labeled Bimbo.
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