Eating, Fake Television Eating, and Sexy Food

I ate so much I sorta made myself sick. Sick because my intestines were crammed full, and sick in the figurative sense, as in disgusting myself. But it was all so good. An analysis of food and television is in order. Of course, this will not be a comprehensive analysis; it will be from a more engaging and Lucy-ish perspective. Yummy and entertaining!

We all know in the old days, people pretended to eat on t.v. Why? Maybe they were worried about food in the actors' teeth? Or perhaps it was the concern that food doesn't film well. Thus the use of wax or white glue or something on cereal commercials. Perhaps that's an urban myth? What does it mean to watch television and eat, and watch people eat? Not much, but it could be a proper analogy for the show, and logically, and excellent analogy for actual people. But it's not even an analogy. Like if you drink coffee from a diner mug whilst watching Seinfeld, there is no analogy, you're just sticking yourself into a diner with them, or pathetically paying homage to an actor (in a re-run, no less). Eating crappy food while watching crappy television - that's appropriate. There's nothing left in the house so you're stuck with something like a can of old soup, and there's nothing on t.v., so you're stuck with an infomercial, or even worse, the Unfunny UPS guy sitcom re-runs, and his perpetually annoyed wife. How did they ever get Jerry Stiller to agree to that? Television imitates life, and life is like television, especially at the mediocre moments, and people eat, or not, in both places.

When I first stayed over at a girl we'll call Priscilla Harrington's house - we'll call her Priscilla Harrington but we won't name her house - I was aghast at the small servings her mother gave us. It was a fraction of the amount we gobbled at my breakfast table, which made me realize how big and uncouth we were. We always had seconds and thirds and we argued over the toy inside. These folks discussed the day's activities, an apparent imitation of a scene they had watched on television. Priscilla's family was preppy and put-together. In later years, her sister developed an eating disorder, but I digress.

Take the mushroom. People who like mushrooms are foodies. People who don't like mushrooms are either young children or unable to get in touch with their sensual side. When Will and Grace go with their dorky friends to The Olive Garden, and the friends rave about the food, you just know that Will and Grace have had risotto, and they are aghast to even be seen at the de-classe establishment. They have tasted of something a little sweeter, if I may. I'm betting the Olive Garden is tasty, but I am not raving about the chain-restaurant-frozen-shrimp flavor.

Another show on which people actually eat is Malcolm in The Middle. I didn't watch it much when it was on for its regular run, but the repeats are hilarious for any person who has ever been a parent or lived with boys. For people who have done neither, it probably seems like a perverse and cruel take on the American family. And they do eat. With their mouths full. Dad also feeds the boys as if they are puppies, throwing morsels into their mouths. They may not be foodies in the mushroom sense, but they do eat a realistic amount of food.

Back to not-television, and my mostly-excellent culinary experience this week: Halvah, which was sub-standard (tahini paste Middle Eastern candy that is crumbly and almost-buttery, akin to a scone but with no ingredients in common); papaya and avocado salad with arugula; and chocolate hazelnut mousse. Also: fresh and still-warm -from-the-machine/cooker maple syrup. Shrimp curry, and naturally, mushroom soup.

I do not associate eating and sex simultaneously but I do associate them. The very idea that an oyster is meant to be an aphrodisiac, and the fact that they are pulpy and salty and smooth in my mouth, definitely puts me in the mind of something smooth that feels good. This cannot be experienced on television. Also, a great meal seems to have been the predecessor to much of the great sex that I have had, but I think that gets back to the sensual food and sex connection. I cannot fathom, however, the food-sex combo. Like I'm not hungry for the oyster when I'm hungry for the meat, if I may be a bit less refined than I claimed to be a few paragraphs ago. I may have written awhile back that I have no interest in licking any food item off of any body part. I would be open to it, I suppose, but really I don't need it. It seems like the overlap of two things that are not meant to be together.

There was a scene in the movie, Blaze, years ago, with Paul Newman and a voluptuous dark-haired actress - in which they shared a watermelon as she rode him, and they laughed and talked as they fucked. He may have worn a cowboy hat. That was memorable - my first exposure to sex as a fun activity. But not anything that would make me want to chow down while getting down. It seems when I write, that I get back to sex a lot. Perhaps I am not so different from your average male: a lotta talk about feelings may be included, but it's the sex she really wants. Or maybe I'm just menstrual - which affects me similarly to ovulation - and I am a wee bit more interested than I am at other times. Some days sex is like that can of old soup. Prediction for this day: I may eat something tasty, I may watch a movie or a re-run, but I will be riding tonight.