Joe+V's+Op-Ed+Article

= = ="Chew, don't slurp", and all the other abominations at the breakfast table.=

Schlep Shmack Schmack Flubab Slirp Gulp Schilp Shlip Sheeeeeeiiiiilhp. No, this is not a dog, nor a very weak attempt at imitating one. That beautiful combination of "sounds", stretched out over a span of 10 minutes, is my angelic serenade every morning. But what could make such horrible noises? An asthmatic cat drinking milk? I wish. But rather, somewhat of an uneventful sight, the source is a particular Mr. Vielbig. My father, in fact. Every morning, promptly at 7:15, he begins his barbaric ritual of eating Honey Bunches of Oats or, for an even louder chorus of animal slurps, Frosted Mini Wheats. After he, like the average human, pours his cereal and adds perhaps a little too much milk, he sits down with one of the biggest spoons our house possesses, and begins to eat. A quick lesson on eating cereal:

Step 1: Hold the spoon in your right hand (or, if you're weird, your left)

Step 2: Insert the spoon into the cereal, keeping the desired amount of substance inside the indent.

Step 3: Withdraw the spoon horizontally, with the cereal and milk still cupped by the metal.

Step 4: Carefully insert the spoon into your mouth.

Step 5: Close your mouth around the spoon and withdraw.

Step 6: Chew and swallow.

Now, you have been properly educated in how to eat cereal the Homo-Sapien way, unlike my father. Perhaps it is simply a nails-on-the-chalkboard anomaly for me, but after sharing the table with him for a measly ten minutes, him slurping away and mashing, open-mouthed on his oats and flakes, I'm teeter on the verge of a mental breakdown. I've brought it up to him before: his method of inhaling his food, the over-powering decibel level while he reads the paper. But alas, he is not one to admit his flaws. And I suffer. Day, after day, after day. The incessant schlop and gulp and whatever other non-transcribable sounds he makes haunt my dreams. The continual: Schlep Shmack Schmack Flubab Slirp Gulp Schilp Shlip Sheeeeeeiiiiilhp.... Ahhhh.... But it is not solely him. There are others, some who sit at my lunch table in fact, whose life goal is to smack on any piece of food they consume. Sandwiches: mash, mash, mash. Chips: Crunch, mash, mash, mash. Water… Well there’s another problem I have. I’ll spare you the overtly elementary step-by-step procedure, but seriously people! Learn how to drink from a water bottle! You have these things called lips, and if you drink like normal people should, you can control how much water you intake. Why do you insist on wrapping your entire mouth around the opening, like you’re sticking a hose in your mouth, and then just proceed to intentionally drown yourself? Then you pull the bottle back, and what do you know? All your lovely saliva drains back into the future cesspool, and soon you have your own private culture growing. No one would want to drink little tiny Joe cultures, so why do you feel the need to share yours? Just eat and drink like normal, respectable people. I’m not asking for the pinky up kinda thing, but a little decency doesn’t hurt every now and then.