How to eat a hamburger without being awkward

[note: the new schedule for my posting, provided I stick to it, will be something like Mozart and Chocolate gets a post on Mondays, Tolkien and Taters gets a post on Wednesdays, and The College Student's List gets a post on Fridays]

Whenever I go out to a new restaurant that I haven't visited before, I check out the menu, scouring it completely before I order. Very occasionally, I'll order a restaurant special. Most of the time, I'll order a hamburger (or a mushroom-swiss burger, or a bacon burger....depending on my mood). I'm not a picky eater. Provided it's not so spicy that my head explodes, I will eat anything. So why do I tend to order hamburgers when I am at a nice, fancy restaurant that has nationally ranked steaks? There is just something about hamburgers that resonates with me-- I can't explain it. When I see a perfectly grilled hamburger cooked medium-well, with fresh lettuce and tomato and ketchup and cheddar (or Swiss or American, if necessary) cheese and onions and pickles and a little bit of mustard and a couple of mushrooms and a slightly charred bun with some sesame seeds on top, I must have it.

This is not a medium-well burger; it's medium at the most. Unacceptable.

Now, I don't think I've ever been to a restaurant (short of take-out and drive-thru) by myself, and when I do go with someone, I usually sit opposite from them. This presents a very serious problem, one that has caused me more stress than I would care to admit. See, in this type of situation, there are two items in my head:

1. I must order a delicious hamburger, and eat it.
2. I must look civilized in front of the person across from me.

The problem is, 1 and 2 don't really go together. It's incredibly difficult for mortals to eat hamburgers without having the contents of the hamburger spill out all over the place, and not ordering a hamburger just isn't an option for me; if I pass up the chance for a hamburger that I want, I could pine for days. I can't compromise item 1. Therefore, I must work with item 2.

I will edit my system into a series of simple steps for anybody else who has this very problem:

1. When your burger first arrives, cut it in half with your knife. 
2. While eating dinner with somebody, you are expected to make conversation, but you can't do this and eat at the same time. So, pick up a fry, and nibble it, commenting on how delicious your burger looks, but acting as if you don't care all that much, because it's just food, and not as important as the chatty conversation you came here for. 
3. Your dinner partner will agree with you, and comment on how excited she/he is to eat (or something to this effect), and begin to eat their food to show their mirrored enthusiasm.
4. Now comes the tricky part. Handle this one with care. Wait until your dinner partner has food in his/her mouth, and pick up your half-burger to eat it. However, right before it reaches your mouth, pause as if you've just remembered something, and say something really vague, like, "Oh, by the way, how is that summer job going? I remember you've told me a little bit about it, but it sounds really interesting! Are you glad you worked there?" Then take a bite of your burger, being careful to be neat about it. (n.b.: the comment must be vague enough that the listener can interpret it any way that (s)he wants, but also pertinent enough to their life that they can talk about it for a while. Remember: people love to talk about themselves. It's why I have this blog.)
5. This comment can also be modified for various situations. "Oh, by the way, how was that trip to New Zealand! You've told me a little bit about it, but I never saw the pictures! What was your favorite place to visit?" or, "Oh, by the way, how did that test go? I remember you told me you never studied for it and you were out the whole night before, but I never did hear how it went! Tell me about the worst part of it!"
6. Chew and listen, occasionally saying things like, "Mmmm-hmmm" and nodding to show how interested you are. 
7. Once you can speak again, make an appropriate reply. Your reply should be based on what your dinner partner said, commenting on how much you agree with what they said, and asking a slightly more specific question on something they clearly want to talk about. "Yes, that professor really is unfair, isn't he? What was that really rude thing he said to you earlier this year again...?" and always appearing fascinated with their insightful replies, looking them in the eye and nodding sympathetically.conversation.
8. Repeat steps 4-7. With this formula, you can take the time you need to eat your burger neatly without worrying about any gaping holes of awkward silence in the conversation. 

Before you know it, you will be done with the dinner, your buddy will like you more than ever for your thoughtful listening ear, and you will have had a delicious hamburger in its entirety (or demi-entirety, or however much of it you wanted, although if you actually wanted less than half of it, I weep for the poor, poor burger quality you had to suffer through). Is there such thing as a better night?

Also, does anyone know of a more awkward food to eat? 

Missing the bus

As the summer draws to a close, I think about the one thing I will not miss: taking the bus to my internship everyday. Or, as I should say, the two buses, since I had a transfer on Broadway and Hildebrand. The less-than-ten minute car trip from the house to Trinity becomes a forty five minute trip (minimum) involving me sitting on a sidewalk, trying to avoid ruining my nice work dress, and attempting to read a book while the wind doggedly keeps me from staying on whatever page I actually want to read.

Oh, and missing the bus. The worst feeling is running to the bus stop only to see the bus driving by ahead of you, the driver completely unaware that if (s)he had been ten seconds later, you could have gotten to work on time. There is no question about where the blame goes in cases like this. If you miss the bus, it's the bus's fault. As you sit on the rough mirage-paved sidewalk in 104 degree weather, it's a small drop of consolation for your justice-parched throat that it is the bus's fault for deciding to be on time, and not yours, for deciding to sleep an extra five minutes that morning.

And the creepy people. You know, you get all kinds of sweet little videos and anecdotes about the nice things that happen on the buses/subways/trains/random places with random people, but in actuality, I (who, while I will happily strike up a conversation with half the internet, shut down in awkward-- or any-- social situations) find that I would much rather keep to myself and avoid talking to people. I have been approached; one guy named David asked me if I would be uncomfortable if I held his hand on the bus, and this other guy asked me what restaurant was closest to my house, because he would like to take me there. Encounters like these result in my finding the most secluded corner on the bus and reading my book and listening to my iPod, feigning complete disinterest in everything that goes around me. Feigning disinterest...or refusing to feign interest. I'm not sure which one is correct here. Either way, you get the point.

There was this one guy on the bus yesterday who kind of caught my eye. He was huge, at least three hundred pounds, and wearing a black shirt, black pants, a black collar, and he had black hair in a bowl cut. He also had a large sketchpad, on which he was drawing a dragon. I couldn't help but watch. The drawing was very good. I tried to look cool and aloof, as if I had absolutely nothing better to do than to watch, or as if I was zoning out, and just happened to be looking at his drawing. I even took a few minutes to fiddle with my phone, like I was sending a text or something (obviously I wasn't, because nobody I know is up at eight in the morning). He turned the page of his sketchbook, and began working on another drawing-- the kind that I like to call "anime pseudo-porn" (imagine an anime girl wearing nothing but what is absolutely necessary to cover up the important parts, and imagine them being covered with really heavy armor, with spikes on the armor).

It reminded me a little bit of this picture that I came across later that day (click on picture to enlarge it if you have trouble reading):

The story, unfortunately, ends with the bus getting to my stop. I got off, and got on my transfer bus, and went to work. I didn't say anything. But for the rest of the day, I began to feel something nagging at me, in a very uncomfortable way. I found that I wished nothing more than to go back in time and tell him that I really liked his pictures, and that I wanted to take a picture of them. For god's sake, I took a picture of a rock last week that I thought was especially pretty. Last night, I took a picture of a facebook status I thought was amusing, with my phone. I even had my phone out with me on the bus, to pretend to look occupied. 

I probably won't see that kid again-- it's very rare that I see the same person twice on the bus, although there are definitely a few bus "regulars" that I'm beginning to recognize. Sometimes, the source of my aversion to talking to people on the bus is obvious. Sometimes, I'm not sure where it comes from. In any case, would it really have hurt me to say that I thought he was a really good artist, and how long has he been drawing things? I am worried to think that I may be in that group of people that needs to find someone to look down on to feel better about themselves-- and yet I am certainly the kind of "weird and quirky" girl on the left. I googled "Zooey Dechanel" when I saw that picture.

I realize I'm not painting a very flattering portrait of myself, but I don't want to do that, because there are very few people who, when scrutinized up close, are perfect (neither am I raising my hands and saying "well, nobody's perfect, why should I be?"). I'm saying to stop looking for perfection, and look for what catches your eye. The thing is, out of all the people on the bus I've seen this summer, that one kid with is drawings is the one I really noticed this summer, and that's kind of amazing. Because of that, I regret never saying anything to him-- I am positive that he will not remember me after this summer, even though I'm sure I will remember him. Perfection is so easy to find-- we are bombarded with it; it's far more unique to find something that makes us look a second time, capturing our interest.

I want to encourage you (aka, whoever's read this far) to talk to someone today who you wouldn't normally talk to, and tell them something they would really like to hear. Ask them about their family, or how they are doing, or give them a deserved compliment that they might appreciate. It could mean far more to them than you might think-- and that's the point, isn't it? It's really no effort for you to say something that could brighten their day.

In any case, you don't want to miss the opportunity while you have it, in fear of a little awkwardness, and then regret it later. And hey, you really could be the person who makes someone's day. And there is absolutely nothing wrong with that. 

My Embarrassing Monday

I had a very embarrassing day at work today, because it was a Monday. I will explain what happen today in order of embarrassingness:

1. I was delivering an envelope downstairs to a box that I don't really understand (I don't know where it goes or what it's for), but I always have to deliver papers there. I was walking by a desk and I heard a woman say, "you're my hero!". I knew this woman because I had talked to her once or twice on other, similar errands, so I turned around and laughed and said "thank you!" before realizing that she was on the phone. 

2. I went back that office ten minutes later because I had to deliver another paper to the same box, and when I was leaving, that same woman asked me if I needed the registrar's box, and I said no, and so she asked me what I was doing. "I'm here to put the paper in the box," I replied wisely. 

"That's the registrar's box," she said. 
"Oh," I said. "Then yes, that's what I was doing."

3. Later, I had to buy something from the bookstore for my department, and when I was signing the receipt with the name on the department credit card, I thought I was writing my last name for a minute, and the end result was what looked like a fifth grader writing MCONMA and a squiggly line for the last name (I didn't even bother thinking up letters for that part). The woman asked me if I wanted another receipt to sign, and I said yes please, but then I realized that she was kidding, so I pretended like I was, too.

4. Then, I had to deliver a form to the VP's office, so I went up there, and on the way out, I always pick up a piece of chocolate from the candy bowl that's always on the receptionist's desk. I reached out to take the candy, and my hand hit the table. I looked down to realize that the bowl wasn't there today, and I had just reached out to grab at an empty space on the desk. The woman behind the desk gave me a polite look and asked if I wanted the candy, and I kind of turned red and nodded and ran off. (I later realized that words would have been involved in the better response)

5. Finally, when I was heating up my lunch during my lunch break (still in my department office) I tried to open the microwave door, and I pulled the microwave off the counter and it fell on the ground. I picked it up and put it back and plugged it back in before anybody noticed, because thankfully, the people in the rooms closest to me were either on vacation or on lunch. The next woman to heat up her lunch had a little bit of trouble getting the microwave started, but I just sat at my computer and concentrated on writing, looking very innocent and oblivious. The microwave, in the end, did finally start.

Anyway, so now that I have been sufficiently humiliated, I think I will go home and sit down for a while and eat some expensive dark chocolate with Mayan spices and a hint of orange.