There is something about this simple cookie with its neat piece of white paper tucked inside that is almost the most exciting part about eating Chinese food. Maybe part of the fun is eating something salty, spicy and just greasy enough, then finishing off the meal with a tiny bit of near sweetness that makes it fun. But, lately, I've noticed these cookies aren't about fortunes like they used to be. They're more like a nice little pep talk from a stranger.
I've collected a few of these papers over the last few months (seriously - it was over time, not many consecutive nights of Chinese food) to illustrate my concern the cookie has become politically correct.
This is one I keep on my computer monitor at work. I do find it rings true - especially on the job. All that awful news out there could make a girl crazy (well, crazy to the point where she might be all weepy all the time and stop caring for personal hygiene - one of my biggest nightmares). So, we laugh. We have to. Or we cry. No one wants to see that on the news. OK, the people who do are just not well. I think most of them only read conspiracy theories on the Internet because they don't trust TV news.
This one is also on my office computer monitor. I would REALLY like to believe it's true, but I'm a realist. I know I live in a world where it seems cranky pants are almost always on sale. And they must be especially cheap because I see jerks on the regular - not all in the office.
This might be the first time I ever called a cookie a liar. I don't think life calms down until you die. Depending on how you die, it might not be all that calm. See? Cookies lie.
Really? Because I have, like, *this* much patience. EXAMPLE: When I go fishing, I quickly cast my line out, let it sit for about two seconds, reel it in, then repeat. Know something? I catch fish. In fact, I take great joy out of announcing, "GOT ONE!" every time - even when it's not a keeper. So, take that, patience!
Seriously, cookie? If I knew what new ideas were sitting around in my mind waiting to be found, I wouldn't spend so much time digging for my keys in my purse. If those new ideas are sitting in my brain, they only seem to rattle out when I have some chocolate. And I know when it's a good one because someone will tell me. Maybe I should start a "Nicole had a good idea" journal...
This time, the cookie did not lie. I actually received this one around the time I received word of my promotion - which I had to keep secret for months. Still, I wanted to think this also meant the "rewarding" part meant I'd win the lottery. Maybe that will still happen (NOTE TO SELF: must by lottery tickets to increase chances of winning).
Maybe my memory of a long-awaited event is hidden behind those new ideas, but I can't think of what event has had me on edge. But it will be good news. The cookie says so.
See? These things are all positive, feel-good messages. But they hardly hold the key to my future. I want the cookie to say something like, "Fairies will show up to clean your house for free" or "Elves will clean out your garage" instead of a vague hint at something good in my future. It's like someone sued a fortune cookie company because the little paper didn't come through so now they're afraid to be more committed to those words.
Sad. So sad, I don't even want to play those lucky numbers in the lottery because I don't believe there's any good luck in them.
Not sad enough to keep me from drowning my tears in a bucket of orange peel beef.
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