My work is having an awards banquet on Thursday. I do not like awards banquets. That is, I do not like being forced to sit through the same eight people being clapped at over thirty-seven mediocre accomplishments in order to earn a plate of "banquet" food. It's been a long time since I last associated the word banquet with anything other than these:
And speaking of being so desperate for a cheap meal (now that men no longer kneel and beg for the opportunity to buy me one) that I'll sit through enough halfhearted clapping to make my hands hurt, every awards banquet I've ever attended has been catered by BYU. To give you some perspective, BYU catering is on about the same level as the food the red, angry, overweight cafeteria lady in the too-tight, macaroni-stained labcoat served at your elementary school. You remember the stuff—they had to serve it to you on compartmentalized trays to keep the individual food-like items from joining forces to destroy the universe:
To back off from the whole "apocalypse by food I hate" thing, BYU catering food is the same type of glutinous edible mass at the cafeteria food, but without the compartmentalized tray. When I worked for the BYU Telefund, one awards banquet featured a BYU-original: moldy breadsticks.
Needless to say, I'm hesitant to attend anything involving BYU and food anywhere near each other.