My Point ... And I Do Have One (10 page)

In the 1960s, bread was slang for money, as in “Hey, man, gimme some bread so I can buy a psychedelic headband.” I don’t know why that was. Maybe it’s because in the 1940s, dough was slang for money, as in “Excuse me, Mister, can I borrow some dough so that I may purchase a spiffy fedora.” One theory is that dough rose and eventually became bread. My point being that you shouldn’t put money into this recipe.

EGGS
How did people ever figure out that eggs were edible? Did they see something come out of a chicken and think, “Boy, I bet that would be tasty?” There had to be a first person who ever ate an egg. I’m sure it wasn’t pleasant. In fact, there are pictures in a cave in the south of France showing a Neanderthal crunching into an egg and getting a big mouthful of egg shells; to the side there are other Neanderthals pointing at him and laughing. But who got the last laugh? I don’t really know, I wasn’t there. Also, this might not be true. It’s possible it’s just a dream I had one night after eating a bad clam.

People probably started eating some foods because they saw other animals eating them first. For instance, somebody saw a pig digging up truffles and eating them and said, “Say, that pig must know what he’s doing. Otherwise he wouldn’t be a pig. Hey, I can talk. Listen, everybody, I’ve invented language.”

There had to be a first person who ate beets. Why why why didn’t that person tell everybody that it wasn’t worth the bother? To this day, people are still eating huge forkfuls of beets and asking God in Heaven how anybody decided that this could be food. Or, maybe that’s just me.

SQUID

Actually there is no squid in this recipe. I was just thinking about them. I wonder what happened during their evolution to allow them to shoot out ink behind them. Some people think they developed this talent to avoid predators. But maybe it’s just a neat magic trick: the squid squirting out the ink and when the ink disperses, the squid is gone. He’s like the David Copperfield of the ocean. I’m not saying that a squid is married to a supermodel like Claudia Schiffer, but I’m not saying that he isn’t, either.

BUTTER

If you have a moral or health reason for not using butter, then you can substitute some other lubricant, such as margarine, oil, or Vaseline. In a pinch you can rub a peanut really hard and fast over your pan. I’ve never tried this, but it’s possible that you could squeeze out a drop or two of oil.

I probably should have mentioned earlier that you are going to need a …

PAN

You probably are also going to need a …

KITCHEN

I suppose you could cook the French toast over a heat source not found in a kitchen. You could try the cable box over your TV, but that doesn’t give off much heat. It might take a year or two to cook the Real Frenchy French Toast properly. The same holds true for a candle. You’d need seventy or eighty candles to do the job right. You’d have to wait for your Uncle Hank’s birthday party and cook over his cake. But, if you’re doing this, you’re just being obstinate. Go to the kitchen, use the stove, and stop being such a big baby.

SALT AND PEPPER (TO TASTE)

If you can’t taste it, then it ain’t salt and pepper! That’s an old cooking joke. For the life of me, I’ve never been able to figure out what it meant.

VANILLA

If you don’t have vanilla, you can substitute chocolate, butter pecan, or fudge ripple.

LAIT

That’s french for milk. Calling it lait is what makes ordinary French toast Real Frenchy French Toast. You could call all of the ingredients by their french names, but then you’d run the danger of making Really Pretentious Frenchy French Toast.

To Cook

Now, do what I do. Give all the ingredients to your housekeeper, sit down with a …

COLD FROSTY BEER

in front of the TV, and before you can say Gerard Depardieu, your housekeeper will be bringing out a piping hot bushel of the tastiest French toast you’ve ever had.

Now, enjoy and bon appétit.

things that
sound like a
good idea at
first, but
really aren’t

A. Taking a shower with someone.

B. Pet sitting.

C. Pie eating contests.

D. A mud bath followed by a Shiatsu massage.

E. Having somebody read to you.
    1. Reading to someone else.

F. Writing a book.

ellen
degeneres is
a man!

or
ellen degeneres is a man!

A
NOTHER
P
OEM
I wish I were taller
And had perfect legs
And had easier hair to fix
And was a man
Sometimes I do
But not really
But sometimes
But not a lot
Just a little
Once in a while
O.K. only once
When I had to use the restroom
And somebody was in the ladies’ room so it was locked
And the men’s was open but I was too chicken to go in
So I wished I was a man then
Just that one time

S
omeone recently wrote a letter recently to a national magazine recently (and you know it must really be recently since I’ve mentioned it so many times) asking, “Why does Ellen DeGeneres always wear pants and never skirts?”

I’m guessing that the person who wrote that letter meant skirt, a noun signifying an article of clothing, and not skirt, a verb defined as, “to evade or elude (as a topic of conversation) by circumlocution.” Because, if they mean the
verb
skirt, well, they’re dead wrong. I’m always skirting. I skirt so much that it would not be inappropriate for someone to call me Skirty, though I can guarantee that I will never answer to that nickname.

But it’s probably pretty safe to assume that the person who wrote that letter wanted to know why instead of wearing skirts, I wear pants.

First, let me just say, Wow! Some people have a lot of free time! I mean, it’s one thing to wonder that to yourself. But to actually take time to write to a magazine about it? I have to conclude, however, that if one person wondered that, probably others have too. So, once and for all, here’s the reason.

If you must know, years ago when I was young and impressionable, after eating some fermented berries at Camp Tatchey-Too Too, I had both my legs completely tattooed with designs of bougainvillaea. Now, if I wear a skirt, I am constantly bothered by bees.

I hope that clears that up. Thank you for your curiosity.

All kidding aside—actually, I change my mind. I don’t want to put all kidding aside. I want the kidding right there in front where we all can see it. The main point of this book is kidding. If I put all kidding aside, there would be nothing left but nonkidding, and believe me, that wouldn’t make a very interesting book. So forget that: the kidding stays (or I go).

Now, where was I? Oh yeah. Some people probably think that you’re less of a woman if you wear pants, and that’s just not fair (unless you’re a man, in that case you might like being thought of as less than a woman … or at least less womanly—or maybe not). So, what am I trying to say? Probably something about how unfair it is to be judged by appearances. Yeah, that sounds right.

It is unfair to be judged by appearances. Even though I don’t wear skirts, I know I’m a girl. Of course, I forget that sometimes. Wait a minute, I should clear that up. I can already see some reviewer singling that quote out. I don’t forget that I’m a girl—I know I’m a girl (I’ve got two X chromosomes and I’m not afraid to use them)—but I think of myself as a human being first, just a person.

I’m a person who’s a woman, and I don’t like dresses or panty hose or heels. I guess you could chuckle and say that I’m just a woman trapped in a woman’s body. But, if you did say that, nobody would know what you meant, and probably more than one person would ask you to kindly stop chuckling.

High heels should be outlawed (at the very least there should be a five-day waiting period before you can buy them). They destroy your feet. It should be mandatory that the Surgeon General print a warning label on high heels like they do on a package of cigarettes (i.e., Warning: These shoes can lead to lower back pain, aching toes, and the illusion that you’re taller than you actually are).

Anyway, just to reiterate, I do know I’m a girl. As proof (and I don’t know why you want proof all of a sudden), when I’m out in public and I have to use the restroom, I head straight for the ladies’ room or the door with a stick figure wearing a dress (even though I’m not wearing one myself) or, if it’s a seafood restaurant, the door marked “Gulls” and not “Buoys.”

I guess the bigger point, though, is that fairly or unfairly (and sometimes both at the same time), we are judged by the way we look. And, more often than not, we’re the ones who are judging ourselves.