Tuesday, July 19, 2011

The Fortune Cookie

I had lunch out today. It was lovely, thank you for asking. I walked the two blocks to the cute little restaurant near work, ordered one of my favorite lunch specials, sipped a little jasmine tea. Nice, right?

Then they brought me the check. With a fortune cookie. Oh, what the heck, I thought. It's only one more point. And I have plenty for the day. So I picked up the cookie and broke it open and this is what I saw:
Hmm. Really.

While I'm not certain I actually have a love life right now, I think I'd like a little more information. Very Nice Person is, by definition, very nice, but he's also three thousand miles away. And as I have mentioned in the past, nobody's picking out china. Nobody's contemplating a move. It's all...well, very nice, but it's not really enough to qualify for a love life.

Is it?

Anyway. I think handing out these types of fortunes is a bit unsettling. Misleading. Imprecise. After all, when will my love life change? And how will my love life be better? By whose definition? The Omnipotent Comedian's? Yes, I think we know Who was behind this amusing little fortune's finding its way into my hands. I think the OC is giggling right now, remembering the snort I gave when I read this tiny message.

And what kind of guarantee do I have that this will actually happen? See, this is one of the many reasons I don't go to psychics, either. You get no guarantees. You get your hopes up, you think something might shift or change that you want shifted or changed, and then...nothing. And no recourse!

I walked home from work the other night, passing by the home/business office of a psychic. At least, that's what was printed on the sign. I wonder if she knew I was there.

Not the point. The point is, I had a lovely lunch.

Stupid fortune cookie.


  1. I went to same said lovely restaurant for lunch today. It was enjoyable. My fortune reads, "Wealth awaits you very soon." I choked a little.

  2. It seems like we have three categories of people in regards to relationships. Starting with the nones... nobody there, just hopes and dreams frosted with frustration. Lonely but at least you're in charge of the remote.
    Then you find the love struck folk, the kind finding post its proclaiming eternal love, sharing straws and phone plans, dizzy with lust and just waiting to get into the supply room for a quickie... You get three months of this... MAX.
    And next we have the "we have partners that are no longer perfect" crew, which makes up most of the earth. They exhibit random happiness and bursts of joy, interchanged fits of rage and general discontent. This stage lasts until death, I'm pretty sure.
    And I'm leaving out the really depressing stuff,