Transferrence of Catholic Guilt To Pot Luck Food

Ever have friends over for a pot luck dinner? At the end of the night, their dishes are congealing and the wine has been drunk and they're like, "oh, can we just leave this here; I'm sure you can find someone to eat it." And you're like, "sure" because you feel all guilty that they had to lug all this crap through the Metro because you had to near-sighted foresight to schedule the party on the day of a big demonstration downtown as well as the National book fair and you're feeling all guilty that they couldn't drive and had to lug their stuff through throngs of aged bookworms and wingnuts.... so you say "sure!" as if you are real into it and soon your fridge is stocked with massive stuffed Idaho potatoes, stringy and tough beef briscuit and an unclassifiable white substance with shreds of something inside it (is it coleslaw? is it potatoe salad? is it??).

And is it right or wrong to feel guilty if the first thing you do in the morning is to roll all that refridgerated stuff right into a trashbag and furtively (which is dumb since none of them live here) take it to the trash chute working out excuses just in case they come over today for something and notice all the food gone - I mean should I pat my stomach and say "mmmm" or say, yeah, the desk attendant in the lobby and the janitor and engineer had a big party and wanted to tell you all thanks? Or do I just give them the sad awful truth of, well I would never eat this food in a million years and I'm not going to let it stink up my fridge.

Oh well, I'm gonna keep the beef briscuit at least and make some stew. And they did leave a bottle of Delerium Tremens beer behind.

God I hope none of them know that I have a blog.

PHOTO BY YOURFUTUREEX entitled "Gutted"

cross-posted at drinking and eating