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Monica Bielanko
A chronicle since 2005 of my marriage & move to Brooklyn in my twenties; becoming a mother in my thirties; moving to Pennsylvania and learning to amicably coparent after divorce in my forties while living 3 doors down from my ex-husband in a small country town.
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Wednesday
Jun062007

Hello, Beef

I've only seen and therefore only eaten chicken flavored Cup Noodles from the vending machine in the break room of the news station at which I work. I like the chicken flavored ones well enough, but, to be honest with you, much like Ramen Noodles, the taste difference from chicken to beef to shrimp to mushroom in the Cup Noodle family is negligible. I'll take any ol' kind. It's the steamy, instant gratification I'm after.

What is it about the cup and the noodles? I don't know, but I'm a fan. Fantastic combination, the cup and the noodles. Mind you, I don't regularly consume a Cup Noodles, but when I forget my lunch and I'm too lazy busy to leave the building, I go for the noodles. Like my Mormon ancestors before me, my tastes are cheap and when hungry I'll eat just about anything.

As I was saying, I've only seen chicken flavored Cup Noodles living inside the vending machine. But I was pouring coffee in the break room for my tenth second time just a minute ago when a flash of red inside the vending machine caught my eye. My consumption of the chicken Cup Noodles must have inspired the vending machine man (or woman!) because right there in the C7 slot were seven (SEVEN!) beef Cup Noodles soldiers awaiting purchase. My purchase!

With my back to the break room door, I minced toward the vending machine for a closer look. And that's when, disproportionately (some might say inappropriately) excited by my new noodle option, I made my mistake.

"Hello, beef." I purred seductively as I gently placed my hand on the glass front of the vending machine. Of course, I thought I was alone. I thought it was a joke between me and my friends, the Cup Noodles. Unfortunately, it was at that very moment the new anchorwoman at the station decided she was thirsty. As I was greeting the beef I became aware of her reflection in the vending machine glass.

There is no recovery from being caught issuing flirtatious salutations to beef Cup Noodles. There just isn't.