Who thought ordering items off a menu by number was a good idea?
When I’m hungry, the last thing I want to be ordering is number two.
“May I take your order?”
“Yeah, I’d like a number two.”
“What would you like to drink with that.”
“Why, number one, of course … “
The whole idea is repulsive. Truly.
It probably started in Asian restaurants where confusion caused by the mangled pronunciations of the dishes by inexperienced diners led to the sensible solution of a simple numbering system. At these businesses you almost never hear anyone ordering a number one, number two, or other lower numbers though; the appetizers. You’re far more likely to order a number 37 and then just say “and an order of egg rolls” than sit there continuing to spit out numbers like an adding machine. Everyone recognizes egg rolls.
Which leads me to ask who came up with numbering biological byproducts in the first place and why did they stop at number two? Is it because figuring out what number three should be was too difficult?
Let’s see:
#1 makes sense as it’s what you tend to do the most of and
#2 follows similarly.
#3 – Mucous? Methane? Are we counting gases? Probably not or number one would be carbon dioxide. Heck, I know some people for whom methane would count as number two after carbon dioxide and before urine …
What number does vomit get or does that not get counted because it is part of being sick, not a normal, everyday body function?
If you have to do more than one thing at once, can you describe it by combining the numbers?
“Thanks for waiting guys, I had to number three.”
“Geez, Larry, you were in there an awfully long time for just blowing your nose … “
“No, no, no – one plus two.”
I suppose that would become a little too confusing.
This whole system was thought up to keep people from saying “pee” and “poo” at the dinner table, yet now we’re at the restaurant ordering with numbers that also happen to be euphemisms for bodily waste.
I think it’s time we just dropped all the pretense and quit being so danged sensitive. Call things what they are and stop acting like a bunch of babies. The next time you’re at a fast food restaurant, grow a pair and eschew that silly numbering system. Order what you know you’re going to get when you they hand you the bag at the pick-up window:
“May I take your order?”
“Yeah, I’ll have the deluxe shit burger with a medium sized cup of sugary piss-water, please.”
In college we assigned events to the other numbers. I forget what 3 and 4 were, but 5 was the highest number and the worst one to endure, vomiting.
We also combined the numbers when there were multiple issues going on, so when you were hung over with shitting and puking episodes, you had Number 7.
“Can’t make it to breakfast guys, Number 7.”
See, now this is why I shoulda gone to college.