Ole Fitz Fume in the House of Thai

I’m all about trying new things. So when Wal-Mart, certainly a well know purveyor of fine international cuisine, was having a little sale on a noodle box from House of Thai, I thought why not.

“Why not” turns out to be because the crap is so vile as to make you want to puke yourself inverted. Never in my life have I smelled something so nasty, and I survived living in a frat house for three years. Reminds me, we had a guy in the house from St. Louis. His last name was Fitzhume. We called him Fitz-Fume because the guy’s feet reeked. My lunch made ole Fitz-Fume smell like an odiferous amateur.

I’m guessing a marketing whiz in Bentonville Arkansas looked on-line for noodle shops in Asia. He found one that sort of spoke English and just so happened to be sitting on a huge stockpile of dirt cheap noodles. A bargain was struck and a deal was made. Marketing Whiz was trying to decide what to call the stuff. He noticed some writing in Thai on the invoice he received and broke out his pocket Thai to English translator.

I envision this conversation taking place between the parties:

“So, based on what I’m reading here, this product is called House of Thai?”

(Stifled laughs) “…Ah, yeah sure. Let’s go with that.”

If Skippy could actually read Thai, he would have discovered that the product was known locally as doughy tasteless noodles spiced with goat butt and yak armpit.

He wasn’t reading an invoice. It was a cease and desist order from the Thai Minister of Health...

The entire office rallied against me and my cup-o-crap. I was forced to dump it out, outside, far from the building. It stunk that bad. I’ve been placed on office microwave probation for three weeks. Everything I bring in has to be approved.

The smell is trapped in my nose people. I’ve been traumatized by instant noodles.