Chinese Take-out

Last week I had a crazy craving for lettuce wraps so I stopped at a local Chinese restaurant on my way home for some take-out. As I sat at my desk touching up jewelry pictures and chowing down on my cashew chicken, I pondered what words of wisdom my sweet/crunchy/yummy fortune cookie (Which I've always felt would be better if it came dipped in chocolate. Who's with me?) may have for me today.

As you probably know, the last couple of months have been very up in the air and confusing for me. I've been feeling, what you may call, "a little lost" - but I digress.

Don't get me wrong - I really don't take much stock in fortune cookies (like my men, maybe I'd find them more trustworthy if they were smothered in chocolate). Honestly, who is going to believe the drunk Chinese guy in the back room with a typewriter anyway, right? But, I don't think I've ever found a fortune cookie more exciting than this one:

My mind went into hyper drive! What could this mean? Will I find the most amazing job ever? Will I make a decision about going back to school? Will I win the lottery? Will meet some amazing guy (who has already won the lottery)? The possibilities are ENDLESS.

I'm hoping that for once, the old Chinese guy got it right and this cookie wasn't actually intended for the gray-haired lady ahead of me in line - but the fact that the waiter gave me three cookies instead of just one in my Styrofoam container made me debate the randomness of the fortune cookie delivery system.

I sat there daydreaming for a good five to ten minutes - jewelry photos be damned - until I started to think about fortune cookies past and that one fateful (or not so fateful) lunch so long, long ago (imagine wavy time travel lines here as we head back to that restaurant in Provo) . . .

It was a warm day in the summer of 1997 (No, I'm not making up the facts. My memory is just that good.) and I sat across the booth from my roommate and her boy of the week. We'd just picked him up and decided that lunch was a necessity. I had the sweet and sour chicken and McKenzie had the broccoli beef (okay, that part may be made up). Nobody cares what the BF had because he's be out of the picture for a very long time now anyway. The food was satisfying but not overly impressive - which explains why I have no clue as to the name of the restaurant. When the waitress brought the check, we followed the custom and each took the cookie closest to us. I have no recollection what the fortune cookie gods said to the rest of the table, but mine made quite the impression. And to tell you the honest truth, I've still got it taped in an half-finished journal somewhere. I was dating three different guys at the time (none of which knew about any of the others) so I was a little confused when I read out loud:

Which one do I choose? How do I decide? Yeah, and we see how well that one worked out for me. Side note: If I recall correctly (and again, I know I do) this is the lunch where I came up with the "old drunk Chinese guy in the backroom with a typewriter" theory as to how fortune cookies are written.

Now, I know you're dying to do it, so say it with me, "Don't worry. Your problem gets better next month . . in bed." There are so many ways that this could go (I actually had a pretty good list started here) but I've decided that I'll leave the creativity up to you, my loyal cyber-stalkers, rather than getting myself into trouble at the embarrassment of my family and friends (or at least my Mother) who thought I had more tact than that.

Good luck on thinking about anything else for the next 15 minutes. You're welcome.