[The google image search brought up this picture when I searched for "gyros." This happens to be the place I now go to based on Coworkeropolis' recommendation. It's on Central Ave., just south of Belmont in Chicago. Go there. You will not be disappointed!]
Wednesday, April 12, 2006
Death by gyros
The firm ordered Greek food for lunch today for everybody, and apparently chaos ensued. I wasn't there at lunch time, but one of my lovely coworkers was nice enough to make a plate for me--a plate which, might I add, had to be fiercely defended over the course of the evening. So, for dinner, I ate the food, which consisted of gyros ("yee-rohs". yeah, that's right.), chicken souvlaki (Dear Greeks, I'm sorry for maybe misspelling your words, but at least I can pronouce gyros. Love, Kristi) and some Greek potatoes.
All in all, the food was excellent. But, oh man. A few hours have passed, and the gyros stank is still with me. I might as well have been thrown on a spit, infused with spiciness and spun for hours myself because, right now? I'm pretty much one with the gyro. That's the thing about gyros--they are SO GOOD...every once in a while. Unless you maybe have a digestive system made of steel or diamond or altoids...at which point, you're probably eating lots of popcorn, peanuts and cotton candy, because you're obviously a circus freak.
In other related (but not by way of the digestive tract) news, the lovely coworker who made the plate of food for me, surprise! happens to be Greek. She was telling me recently that she may be visiting Greece this summer for a few weeks. She explained that a friend of hers was trying to convince her to visit the island of Crete while she was there. This friend, she said, was convinced that they would be able to travel to Crete for as little as 20 Euros. Except, in my mind, they were traveling to Crete for as little as 20 gyros.
So, I'm thinking, Man, these backwards-ass Greeks and their weird bartering systems. I wonder if they're going to have some shaggy old farmer guy row them to Crete in some broken down boat. And, for their sake, I hope that guy doesn't eat all 40 gyros before they leave. Yuck. Talk about death by gyros!
Anyway, I wonder how you say, "Stupid American," in Greek.