Once you get past the misconception that all sushi [a correction: all things called 'sushi', whether they are technically sushi or not sushi, because Americans love to mix things up like that] is raw fish and have some at a Japanese restaurant, you start to get the feeling that you’ve missed out on an important chunk of life. The chunk of life that revolves around eating things stuffed in algae and rice, specifically. You realize, firstly, that you were foolish not to try it sooner and, secondly, that you want more.
It starts out innocently enough.You’ll be reading Dinosaur Comics at two in the morning and think to yourself, “I could really use some sushi about now.” Then you start thinking, “Ryan North should definitely do a dinosaur comic about sushi,” and e-mail him something to the effect of “RYAN YOU SHOULD TOTALLY DO A COMIC ABOUT SUSHI” before realizing dinosaurs and sushi never co-existed and regretting the whole incident in the morning.
Then, one day, you find yourself Googling ‘sushi place near…’ and notice that your search history for the last few days is nothing but searches for sushi places.
It’s downright horrifying.
At least I can say my search has been successful, though one of the places completely forgot I’d called in to order three California rolls. They also had a dying fish in a tank, so I’m going to guess forgetfulness isn’t really anything new around there. Oh, and another place somehow managed to hide the wasabi under the rolls, something that doesn’t sound terribly bad unless you know what wasabi is.
Other than that, at least I got sushi out of the deal.