The meat wheel speaks
Lest the title of this chronicle be seen as misleading, and due to the incessant complaints of the local guild of gyro restaurants, I have agreed to let my favorite such establishment contribute to this humble publication. As you can imagine, the difficulties in having an immobile (but not, contrary to popular misconception, inanimate) object post online are innumerable, but through an intricate system of decodification and dictation, not to mention a patience which most of you think I lack, I give you the following:
"Ok, I should say right off my English not so good. Even when Americans come to eat from me, they usually take trouble to learn how to say gyro pita. So yeah. But I have feeling English will get better as I talk.
I got to say, man, you Americans really need to stop complaining! Always something wrong with Greece. All I ever hear is 'No one ever stops at red lights! The sidewalks are non-existent! The pollution is gross! You have too many stray cats! All the stray dogs make poop your national flower! You Athenians smoke too much and sit around all day and get fat because you never exercise because there's nowhere to exercise! Your city plan looks like an architect drank syrup of ipicac and then, in his dizziness, thought that his "creation" was a good idea. Your cabs never pick up anyone unless they're going to the airport! Your buses don't announce stops when it's dark out and as a result people not from Athens miss their stop and have to take a cab (if he can find one) back to where he was supposed to get off originally. Your post offices close at 2! The shoulder of a highway is not a lane! And so on.'
To this I say, first: at least you're not in India. Second, if you have not gotten run over yet, be thankful. Third, you can't have both sidewalks and periptera [Editor's note: a kiosque with the importance of a Wawa/Sheetz; everything from snacks to phone cards to alk]. Fourth, I saw you petting a cat the other day and crooning like a sycamore in heat. Fifth....ok, I got nothing for the dogs; they suck. So does pollution. Sixth, who wants to exercise? Or not be fat? It's awesome! Seven, our city is beautiful and your words are hurtful. Eighth, you lack the skills of coaxing a taxi. Trust me, all you need is a gyro wheel full of meat (or a 20 euro note flapping visibly in the fumes). Ninth, why would you take a bus, retard! Tenth, you're lucky we have a postal service.
Sorry for that, but the critics are everywhere, and none too bright. I imagine my human counterpart to this blog even has some sniping comments now and then. I know I should be grateful to him for helping me post, but his hair is REALLY distracting, and he's always doing some impersonation. I swear, if he tries to imitate the sound of my meat basting...
But what I really wanted to talk to you about is the Steelers. I know, it's hard to believe that a restaurant in Athens can follow American football at all, let alone well enough to fall in love with the greatest team ever to win 5 Super mpola. But it's true, and with their recent annihilation of the politically incorrect squad from Kansas City, it looks like my gyros will be moist and delicious for weeks to come. Oraia!"
That's all I had time to transmit before the owner of the restaurant insisted he be allowed to serve lunch. Anyways, before I sign off, I should clarify that in Greek, gyro is not pronounced JEYE-ROW (don't worry, Pittsburgh, you still have crik and jaggerz), but YEE-ROW (but without the rebel yell that YEE implies). Learn it, internalize, practice it, and then you can come visit me. Holla.
"Ok, I should say right off my English not so good. Even when Americans come to eat from me, they usually take trouble to learn how to say gyro pita. So yeah. But I have feeling English will get better as I talk.
I got to say, man, you Americans really need to stop complaining! Always something wrong with Greece. All I ever hear is 'No one ever stops at red lights! The sidewalks are non-existent! The pollution is gross! You have too many stray cats! All the stray dogs make poop your national flower! You Athenians smoke too much and sit around all day and get fat because you never exercise because there's nowhere to exercise! Your city plan looks like an architect drank syrup of ipicac and then, in his dizziness, thought that his "creation" was a good idea. Your cabs never pick up anyone unless they're going to the airport! Your buses don't announce stops when it's dark out and as a result people not from Athens miss their stop and have to take a cab (if he can find one) back to where he was supposed to get off originally. Your post offices close at 2! The shoulder of a highway is not a lane! And so on.'
To this I say, first: at least you're not in India. Second, if you have not gotten run over yet, be thankful. Third, you can't have both sidewalks and periptera [Editor's note: a kiosque with the importance of a Wawa/Sheetz; everything from snacks to phone cards to alk]. Fourth, I saw you petting a cat the other day and crooning like a sycamore in heat. Fifth....ok, I got nothing for the dogs; they suck. So does pollution. Sixth, who wants to exercise? Or not be fat? It's awesome! Seven, our city is beautiful and your words are hurtful. Eighth, you lack the skills of coaxing a taxi. Trust me, all you need is a gyro wheel full of meat (or a 20 euro note flapping visibly in the fumes). Ninth, why would you take a bus, retard! Tenth, you're lucky we have a postal service.
Sorry for that, but the critics are everywhere, and none too bright. I imagine my human counterpart to this blog even has some sniping comments now and then. I know I should be grateful to him for helping me post, but his hair is REALLY distracting, and he's always doing some impersonation. I swear, if he tries to imitate the sound of my meat basting...
But what I really wanted to talk to you about is the Steelers. I know, it's hard to believe that a restaurant in Athens can follow American football at all, let alone well enough to fall in love with the greatest team ever to win 5 Super mpola. But it's true, and with their recent annihilation of the politically incorrect squad from Kansas City, it looks like my gyros will be moist and delicious for weeks to come. Oraia!"
That's all I had time to transmit before the owner of the restaurant insisted he be allowed to serve lunch. Anyways, before I sign off, I should clarify that in Greek, gyro is not pronounced JEYE-ROW (don't worry, Pittsburgh, you still have crik and jaggerz), but YEE-ROW (but without the rebel yell that YEE implies). Learn it, internalize, practice it, and then you can come visit me. Holla.
posted by Jeremy LaBuff at 11:55 AM
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