In a world full of pretense and demands, happiness can be elusive. For some, it is virtually intangible, causing one to question the very meaning of life. However, I'm a simple brawd, and happiness can be summed up very simply - ramen.
Who knew that you could wrap paradise in cellophane and charge twenty cents? It's cheap, it's comforting, and if you can get beyond the fact that the flavor pack is tantamount to a .zip file for sodium, it's the best damn thing on the planet. Like, if someone were to ask me, "Hey, what do you want to do? Have sex, or eat ramen?" I'd choose sex, but I'd probably ask what flavor ramen first.
My Pell Grant and Stafford Loan people feel me. The college experience isn't complete unless you've pulled an all-nighter with nothing more than your trusty ramen to provide nourishment and comfort. When I say you have to go to the Vietnamese store to get the "real noodles" (and a hot pickle), my New Orleans people DEFINITELY feel me. (For in New Orleans, the word "ramen" is rarely, if ever used. "Noodles" is completely sufficient.) I'm willing to wager that if a steaming hot bowl of Oriental flavored ramen were placed in the middle of the Saudi dessert, they could coax bin Laden out of hiding. Just a theory.
Personally, I get artistic with my ramen. You'd be surprised how some green onions, red peppers and a scrambled egg can jazz it up. Don't even talk about if you throw in a little broccoli. Talk about a MEAL!
So here's to you ramen, for bringing us so much joy, for so little, for such a long time.
1 comment:
Man...when it came to ramen, I used to feel like the big girl that Mike Epps was clowning in the second "Friday" movie...I knew when all the new flavors were coming out and everything. I think, for a two year stretch, I existed on nothing BUT ramen! LOL!
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