For those who don’t know, for my “Joe Job*” I work in a hospital in an office setting. This means that though I am, at this very moment, in a state-of-the art medical facility that is rated very highly by someone (US News & World Report or Playboy or something), yet I couldn’t tell you how to put your hands on a Band-Aid or some aspirin or such. I take it back. I know for certain that you could purchase those items in the pharmacy. But I don’t know how to get a Band-Aid for FREE like at most workplaces. Then again, if I coded I probably would get some quick and excellent treatment…

Today, in the cafeteria, which is now very officially called “8th & C Street Cafe” (This theoretically makes it tastier and more like Paris? I would say that too many people dragging IV poles around distracts from the Parisian illusion rather effectively), it was “Asian” day. I should back up a tad – it’s “Diversity” week or “Multi-cultural Hullabaloo” or “Foreigner Fête” or “Funny Talk Hootenanny” this week.

Please don’t think I’m a wretched, ethnocentric bigot. I’m most fond of multi-culturalism. I am the whitest woman in the world – literally – but I honestly do love meeting and learning about all sorts of people and cultures. And kudos to the hospital – they had some great dancing and singing and informative displays around the hospital this week about many different cultures and peoples and such. And yesterday I ate a tasty and rather authentic-looking tamale (wrapped in the corn husk and everything). What I mock is the concept of “Asian” food all lumped into one category so that the reality today was that they served a lot of rice and fried meat lumps, put out the soy sauce and called it “Asian.”

But then there was the sushi. Yes, I kid you not, sushi. And not just California rolls – there was tuna and salmon, and what’s more, the chef was even trying to make the presentation lovely. So I got two pieces of salmon roll and some yummy pickled ginger and enjoyed it thoroughly. This brings me to my point (and it only took a number of semi-lengthy paragraphs – HUZZAH!):
Today I ate RAW fish served in a hospital cafeteria located in the Capitol city
of a land-locked State.

Was I brave and fun-lovin’ or was I foolhardy? I feel fine; I’ve had nary a sign of food poisoning and I ate the fish hours and hours ago. I should also add, for those who don’t know Salt Lake City, you can actually get excellent, fresh fish here. They fly it in daily for a number of restaurants (including sushi bars) and markets; they actually claim it may be fresher than its coastal counterparts as they purport to catch the seafood and throw it right on a plane. Ha. That’s a funny image if taken too literally. Envision big-ol’ tunas and halibuts flopping all over some Southwest Flight Attendant. Afterall, don’t most fish take passenger jets?

Anyhooo, the question is, what kind of raw fish makes its way to a hospital cafeteria????? Since I am not dead, it’s still an interesting question.

*Joe Job = The job you work that actually pays the REAL bills though you have a degree in music or acting or some other completely unmarketable pursuit of the fine arts vein but no – oh NO, SIR – you would never claim the “Joe Job” as your career, especially since you have private students or get paid for a few gigs here and there or do a show once in a blue moon and get paid 50$ or so and thus you are a PROFESSIONAL, SIR, A CONSUMATE PROFESSIONAL!!!! This means that you certainly would never, ever, EVER list only “Office Coordinator” on your taxes, for you actually have to pay self-employment taxes on your 50$ or so of fine arts income. This also means you’ve earned the very officious title of “independent contractor” and that you can “Do Business As” and just put your own little name on the dotted line. It does beg the question – can you “Do Business As” (DBA) Flunky Toilet-Squirt (that is, by the way, my Captain Underpants name)? Yes, but you’d have to incorporate as Flunky Toilet-Squirt and be an S Corporation or the like, and that’s just too much for this artist. Fí­n.