Ask RM a Question

[bart]

Who would answer yes to this question?!

[Chris_H_2]

Who would answer yes to this question?!

someone who has already taken the life of another human being?

[dpupenya]

Who would answer yes to this question?!

someone who has already taken the life of another human being?

All or None

[Jorge]

How do you feel about potluck dinners?

[tree_]

How do you feel about potluck dinners?

Could be a good time, with the right people.

[bodysnatcher]

I would stress too much about what to bring

[The Argonaut]

I've always felt like the storage/transport unit I put my food in is inappropriate. Other people seem to bring fancy crystal bowls on the subway, but mine is like a utilitarian Tupperware. Even when I've upgraded to get nicer stuff, it's never good enough.

But I like them because people think I'm an idiot so they're surprised when I bring something tasty that I put together from scratch.

[dad]

I would stress too much about what to bring

I would stress too much about what other people are bringing. Who amongst those bringing dishes doesn't wash their hands after using the bathroom? If I know, I'm steering clear of their food.

[tree_]

I've always felt like the storage/transport unit I put my food in is inappropriate. Other people seem to bring fancy crystal bowls on the subway, but mine is like a utilitarian Tupperware. Even when I've upgraded to get nicer stuff, it's never good enough.

But I like them because people think I'm an idiot so they're surprised when I bring something tasty that I put together from scratch.

What makes you believe they like it? What do they say exactly?

[The Argonaut]

"Wow, Argo, I always thought you were an idiot with bad skin but this is so delicious that I'm beginning to reconsider. Your Tupperware is ugly and, honestly, inappropriate, though, so I do kind of still think you're a loser. Good job with the food, though."

[tree_]

Wow, you need new friends

[tragabigzanda]

There is a wolf in me . . . fangs pointed for tearing gashes . . . a red tongue for raw meat . . . and the hot lapping of blood—I keep this wolf because the wilderness gave it to me and the wilderness will not let it go.

There is a fox in me . . . a silver-gray fox . . . I sniff and guess . . . I pick things out of the wind and air . . . I nose in the dark night and take sleepers and eat them and hide the feathers . . . I circle and loop and double-cross.

There is a hog in me . . . a snout and a belly . . . a machinery for eating and grunting . . . a machinery for sleeping satisfied in the sun—I got this too from the wilderness and the wilderness will not let it go.

There is a fish in me . . . I know I came from salt-blue water-gates . . . I scurried with shoals of herring . . . I blew waterspouts with porpoises . . . before land was . . . before the water went down . . . before Noah . . . before the first chapter of Genesis.

There is a baboon in me . . . clambering-clawed . . . dog-faced . . . yawping a galoot's hunger . . . hairy under the armpits . . . here are the hawk-eyed hankering men . . . here are the blonde and blue-eyed women . . . here they hide curled asleep waiting . . . ready to snarl and kill . . . ready to sing and give milk . . . waiting—I keep the baboon because the wilderness says so.

There is an eagle in me and a mockingbird . . . and the eagle flies among the Rocky Mountains of my dreams and fights among the Sierra crags of what I want . . . and the mockingbird warbles in the early forenoon before the dew is gone, warbles in the underbrush of my Chattanoogas of hope, gushes over the blue Ozark foothills of my wishes—And I got the eagle and the mockingbird from the wilderness.

O, I got a zoo, I got a menagerie, inside my ribs, under my bony head, under my red-valve heart—and I got something else: it is a man-child heart, a woman-child heart: it is a father and mother and lover: it came from God-Knows-Where: it is going to God-Knows-Where—For I am the keeper of the zoo: I say yes and no: I sing and kill and work: I am a pal of the world: I came from the wilderness.

[bodysnatcher]

The toughest part about potlucks is temperature control while in transit. The success of the potluck is entirely dependent on the enjoyment of the food, which is entirely dependent on the guests' ability to plan well for this in advance and then execute.

I think this is why I would bring a cold or room temp food. Or Ring Dings and a Pepsi.

[bodysnatcher]

I would stress too much about what to bring

I would stress too much about what other people are bringing. Who amongst those bringing dishes doesn't wash their hands after using the bathroom? If I know, I'm steering clear of their food.

Very good point.

This is half the reason I don’t like eating out at restaurants.

[Chris_H_2]

The toughest part about potlucks is temperature control while in transit. The success of the potluck is entirely dependent on the enjoyment of the food, which is entirely dependent on the guests' ability to plan well for this in advance and then execute.

I think this is why I would bring a cold or room temp food. Or Ring Dings and a Pepsi.

[dad]

I would stress too much about what to bring

I would stress too much about what other people are bringing. Who amongst those bringing dishes doesn't wash their hands after using the bathroom? If I know, I'm steering clear of their food.

Very good point.

This is half the reason I don’t like eating out at restaurants.

pre-covid we used to have an annual chili cookoff right around Halloween. There's a guy who I've seen walk out of the bathroom countless times without washing his hands. Nice guy, just super nasty. One year, he decided to enter the contest. I immediately asked one of the judges if she could tell me what chili belonged to which participant just so I could avoid his.

I also had a coworker who told me a story about a former coworker of his who used to bring in cookies she baked during the holidays. He said she was a sweet older lady with several cats, and no one thought much of that. She loves cats, no big deal. One year, she brought in cookies, and people would take one or two off the serving tray until they dwindled down to a dozen or so. It was then that she talked about spending the weekend baking them, and how her cats even helped, by pressing their paws down on the dough.

[dpupenya]

I have a go to dish for potlucks. It's a bad ass tortellini antipasto salad

[tragabigzanda]

There is a wolf in me . . . fangs pointed for tearing gashes . . . a red tongue for raw meat . . . and the hot lapping of blood—I keep this wolf because the wilderness gave it to me and the wilderness will not let it go.

There is a fox in me . . . a silver-gray fox . . . I sniff and guess . . . I pick things out of the wind and air . . . I nose in the dark night and take sleepers and eat them and hide the feathers . . . I circle and loop and double-cross.

There is a hog in me . . . a snout and a belly . . . a machinery for eating and grunting . . . a machinery for sleeping satisfied in the sun—I got this too from the wilderness and the wilderness will not let it go.

There is a fish in me . . . I know I came from salt-blue water-gates . . . I scurried with shoals of herring . . . I blew waterspouts with porpoises . . . before land was . . . before the water went down . . . before Noah . . . before the first chapter of Genesis.

There is a baboon in me . . . clambering-clawed . . . dog-faced . . . yawping a galoot's hunger . . . hairy under the armpits . . . here are the hawk-eyed hankering men . . . here are the blonde and blue-eyed women . . . here they hide curled asleep waiting . . . ready to snarl and kill . . . ready to sing and give milk . . . waiting—I keep the baboon because the wilderness says so.

There is an eagle in me and a mockingbird . . . and the eagle flies among the Rocky Mountains of my dreams and fights among the Sierra crags of what I want . . . and the mockingbird warbles in the early forenoon before the dew is gone, warbles in the underbrush of my Chattanoogas of hope, gushes over the blue Ozark foothills of my wishes—And I got the eagle and the mockingbird from the wilderness.

O, I got a zoo, I got a menagerie, inside my ribs, under my bony head, under my red-valve heart—and I got something else: it is a man-child heart, a woman-child heart: it is a father and mother and lover: it came from God-Knows-Where: it is going to God-Knows-Where—For I am the keeper of the zoo: I say yes and no: I sing and kill and work: I am a pal of the world: I came from the wilderness.

[Monkey_Driven]

towardsyourweenie

[spike]

I would stress too much about what to bring

I would stress too much about what other people are bringing. Who amongst those bringing dishes doesn't wash their hands after using the bathroom? If I know, I'm steering clear of their food.

Two of the three times I’ve had 24 hour stomach flu was immediately after a Xmas potluck.