After a few days of what seemed like summer, Sunday was coated in a sprinkling of rain as lazy and flaky as the city itself. Pauly and I emerged from the warm cocoon of my apartment and braved the 59 degree chill to grab a meal at Swingers diner, both of us feeling a little blah-- him with his lingering flu symptoms, me with the dull headache that still plagues me today. We were on the fence about finally seeing the birth-of-the-C.I.A. flick "The Good Shepherd" at Beverly Center, it's three-hour running time giving us the most pause. We'd eat and then see how we felt.
Pauly ordered a cheeseburger and onion rings while I opted for a Cobb salad (sans hard-boiled eggs of course-- I hate them). The salad comes not totally mixed together. The lettuce is coated with the dressing on the bottom of the bowl, while the chicken, bacon, blue cheese, tomatoes, avocado, and shredded carrots are grouped over the top.
Wait a minute... shredded carrots?
OK, let's put aside for a moment the fact that shredded carrots do not belong in a Cobb salad and look at this situation for it's prop bet value. Against my dinner companion, I have lifetime winnings of $120 in food-related prop bets. Each one had a carrot component. So what if we both feel sick.
"How much for you to eat this pile of shredded carrots?"
"$30." My eyes must have visibly lit up. Gotta work on those tells.
"$40 for you to eat about 1/4 cup of shredded carrots?"
"Dude, that's a bargain. The bottom of the pile is sitting on ranch dressing."
"That's my final offer."
"OK. Let's go."
It took four and a half full forkfuls for Pauly to get all the orange matter down. But get it down he did, and in less than a minute. He only gagged twice. Clearly he's been training for these sort of wagers, so be forewarned-- the positive vegetable EV against Dr. Pauly is on the wane.
"OK. You can say it."