Meat Elite

Remember my recent birthday and how the boss at my office gave me a meat package for my birthday Spam, Vienna sausage and Hormel Corned beef: three of my favorite things. I have to give my boss great credit to even consider such a wonderful gift. IO left the items on my desk for a couple of weeks before I started actually consuming these gifts but last week I finally broke he seal on the Spam and I was railed against by the office meat elitists—you know those folks who are too good for meat in a can. Actually the spam week went by fairly well. I purchased rolls from the German bakery, chopped and diced the spam added mayo and toasted the rolls and had great lunch options for the entire week.

So this week, I was really excited as I anticipated ripping the bottom off my can of corned beef. The German bakery is closed on Mondays, because the bakery is open on Saturdays and I guess the Monday off business gives staff a weekend but is sure inconvenient for the consumer, me. Today. I brought in a couple pieces of sour dough bread, to toast. Then this morning the office manager Connie Ronny called from the market before she came into work to ask if I needed any thing from the market and after a few seconds of thought I flashed on the need for dell pickles! Dell pickles is the perfect condiment for toasted corned beef sandwich made with sour dough bread. Connie Ronny got the good kind too, Vlasic Original pickle planks!!

However at lunch time I became the target of meat discrimination. I became the office dog food eater because I desired a simple corned beef sandwich. I took this abuse while Connie Ronny opened the pull ring can, squirted in the mayo and gooshed the mess together. I held to my guns though and I toasted my sour dough and withstood the office. The ridicule was worth the course however as I spread the tog food on the pieces of toasted sourdough . laid down the planks of dell pickle capped the sandwich and cu the bugger in half and fled through the persistent harassment back to my office to take my meager lunch, hunched over my computer savoring each bight of dark red meat. I have the leftovers sealed in plastic stuffed back in the fridge. Already folks are complaining about the odor of dog food smelling up the fridge but that’s cool, I am excited the rest of the red meat will have a chance to cure. And if I come to work tomorrow and my protein treasure is gone, well that’s OK too—I’ll just figure the night cleaning lady say it in the fridge and couldn’t resist or maybe Connie Ronny snuck the treat home for an evening delight.