The taquitos and tomatoes that shaped me

I'll admit it. I'm rude.

I've been writing this column for about a month. I realized the other day after a brief period of introspection (my favorite kind, for the record) that I have not properly introduced myself.

Toward that goal, here are a few of my core beliefs when it comes to putting edible things in your mouth:

I believe in unlimited trips to the salad bar.

I believe that people at the salad bar who drop into food bins stray objects that do not correspond to the items which they are selecting should have tong privileges taken away from them forever. If you can't handle tongs, perhaps salad is too much of a challenge. And by all means, lay off the chopsticks.

I believe the human kidneys were not made to withstand the soft drink tsunami brought forth by the consumption of a Big Gulp.

I believe that every episode of "Iron Chef" should finish with a food fight, preferably using squid and meat cleavers.

I believe it should be a federal crime to serve iced tea in a tall glass with a short spoon.

I believe that grocery store managers should be forced to eat every hard-as-a-rock tomato they sell that fails to ripen within two weeks of purchase.

I believe I shall never overcome my prejudice against buying uncooked shrimp from roadside vendors during the months of June, July and August.

I believe that I'd rather use a George Foreman Grill than a Mike Tyson Grill.

I believe we are raising a generation of children who will forever think dinner starts only when Mom's right arm extends back from the driver's seat.

I believe that restaurant patrons at adjacent tables should pay for the privilege of ogling my dish.

I believe I would support a restraining order that keeps that creepy Quiznos talking oven commercial off my television screen.

I believe nothing will ever do more damage to my soul than the greasy, cheesy-filled taquito I once purchased from a convenience store hot dog roller.

I believe that the inventor of the flashing devices restaurants use to alert customers their table is ready was probably walked on a leash through malls as a child.

I believe in supporting organically grown, sustainable, local farming.

I believe that those who look down their noses at others for not buying organic, sustainable, local food should spend a week eating nothing but Twinkies and Little Debbies.

I believe that restaurant patrons who tip less than 20 percent of the amount of their bill should have 20 percent of the air let out of their tires in the parking lot.

I believe the last thing I would ever want to see is Paula Deen wrestling Mario Batali in a pool of creamed corn.

But enough about me. Tell me a little about yourself.