Is there anything more desperate than a Jo’s salad? All of us Brown University Dining customers are used to slopping down whatever is closest and easiest, but what’s better than a “Whoops! All Beige” sandwich than an indiscriminate pile of just fucking whatever.
I’m all for slurping down something that is easy and salty, but at a certain point, a woman has to have a code. Caesar salad—awesome! Fruit salad—whatever floats your boat! Why are grapes and beets touching? And why are you ok with that? It’s ok to ask for the leftovers from the market share program; they’ll give it to you, and you don’t have to burn a swipe of whatever produce was found at the back of Dining Service’s fridge.
I understand that people have cravings, and I would never yuck someone’s yum, but I demand a certain level of honesty from the frequenters who keep the station open. You’re allowed to eat what you want, but you cannot take yourselves seriously with the food combinations you’re getting. Deep down, I do believe that they know they’re eating fancy food scraps because even the Jo’s workers will serve it to them in a readily compostable paper bowl that fits exceptionally well into the UEL worm bin.