What the hell is up with this side salad?
By Joshua Rosario | Published Jan. 29, 2018
We all want to be healthier in our food choices. We all ask for salads but we really want fries. In a perfect world, we would be stuffing our fat little faces with all that greasy goodness all the time without worry of calories. Sadly, this is not a perfect world and some of us gain weight with every breath.
It takes a lot out of a person to ask for the side salad with your meal no matter where you choose to eat. Listen to some of the people at the Cougar’s Den when they ask for the side salad. You can hear the deep frustration in their voice. The strain to not yell “FRIES PLEASE.” Instead you squeak “I guess a side salad.” (You always guess a side salad you never guess fries, just the guilt you feel after eating the fries.)
Now understand the rage I felt when I bought a side salad at the Cougar’s Den and it was these leftover lawn clippings with some poorly diced tomatoes still attached at the skin. You could pick up all the diced tomatoes at once. Also, I’ve had more lettuce and tomato in a burger than I did this side salad. If anything this was a side side salad to go with my chicken tenders. I just didn’t want to feel like a complete porker for once. I’d rather be oinked at then look at this sad salad.
It didn’t help I had to spend an extra $2.75 for the side salad on top of the cost of chicken tenders. Yeah I know! You read that correctly. $2.75! There is no one trying to make it rain over some side salad. These monsters didn’t even have the decency to give me the fries too. Hell! Throw them at me like I’m a seal at Seaworld. I’ll flip in the air like I just joined the U.S. Olympic Gymnastic team. At least flip me off so I know I screwed myself.
What am I supposed to feel when I walk all the way to my next class and come to this realization, this revelation of these horrid leaves that looked as if they were raked up outside the Center of Academic Success. There was no success here just the lingering odor of failure.
I looked deep into this salad and searched around waiting for one of the chefs to pop out from behind me yelling hysterically “HAHA FATTY.” Then running away leaving the echoes of his villainous laugh behind. Instead, I’m sitting alone listening to the tune of Simon and Garfunkel’s “The Sound of Silence” in my head. (Hello Darkness, my old friend…)
The abyss of first world problems continued as I dug into the bag and pull out this complimentary dressing. At first sight, the dressing could only be described as regurgitated balsamic vinegar. The visual of it was too unpleasant to even attempt a taste.
I was filled with rage. Unleashing a barrage of colorful words you were told you’re not supposed to say, but do anyway. Especially, seven beautiful letters assembled into my two favorite words. So, in the most tamed way possible I must ask what the hell, Cougars Den?
What is it with this small gathering of dried up leaves you raked into a styrofoam container? What is with this slither of diced tomato that looks like it was cut by a knife made for a preschool child’s pretend kitchen? You’re suppose to cut with the knife not smash with a knife. It is not a mallet. What is with that complimentary snot dressing? WHAT THE HELL, COUGARS DEN?
Finally, dear salad, you’re just food my food eats. You don’t even deserve to be an appetizer. You bowl of underachieving toppings. You’re second to soup. And soup is basically the Luke Hemsworth of food. Right now! You’re thinking…. who? And to that I say exactly!