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08

Apr

film-vomit:

Pitch Perfect (2012)



I am enjoying your new cookbook.

film-vomit:

Pitch Perfect (2012)

I am enjoying your new cookbook.

12

Mar

On Julia

25

Feb

My Mom Called

Today, my mom called.

We haven’t talked in months.

My phone rang this morning at 7:02 a.m.

When I added her to my contacts, I gave her a special name.

Death is calling.

I almost let her go on ringing. Let her end up in my voicemail where I can delete her in one flick of my thumb. Gone, like she never happened.

But for no reason at all, I answered. Because maybe it was someone calling from her phone to tell me she was dead. There are some calls that you don’t want to miss.

I could hear her take a breath. A struggling gulp of air.

I didn’t say anything.

She cleared her throat.

And we both waited for something that wouldn’t come. Blame and hate and a spewing of slights and falling short.

Silence. A breath. And a long exhale through her nose. She was getting over a cold, I could tell.

"I hope you have a good day."

"OK."

A breath.

"Happy birthday, dear."

"OK."

And then I pressed End.

23

Feb

My review of the Manresa cookbook.

My review of the Manresa cookbook.

22

Feb

Every time you put frosting on brownies, I’m like, “Bitch, you made me cake.”
@shitfoodblogger

Every time you put frosting on brownies, I’m like, “Bitch, you made me cake.”
@shitfoodblogger

(Source: recitethis.com)

20

Feb

On being an expert

19

Feb

Follow Up: I Don’t Know How to Say This

This morning I wrote a thing. And some of you deserve a follow up.

I sometimes make myself write a new post, and the only rule is that I can’t get up until I’m done. Usually, I have other things to do, which limits how much I can write. Like right now, I need to leave to go home in ten minutes, so I won’t be editing this much if at all.

Back to this morning…I wrote a thing. And some of those things are true to the character I’ve created here, the voice of my absurdities and silliness. Supporting the narrative that I’ve created. And some of those things are true for me, the creator of this thing. And if keeping score matters to you, know this…most of the things I wrote are about me as creator. Two or three of them are about the character. Most of what I wrote was true.

But here’s the thing…as sharply pointed as the feelings I shared might seem, they’re not the whole story. They’re not all of my feelings. And I only say that because of the lovely comments I received expressing worry for me as a person, as creator. Was I ok? Will I be ok?

Yes, I am ok. And I’ll be ok. But thank you, you lovely people, who see behind the vulgarity of what I’m doing here to make sure that I, the person and not the creation, am ok.

You’re good people.

So, About That $4 Toast

itsjohnbirdsall:

Oh hey, I talked to The Dinner Party Download about San Francisco’s $4 toast, which in fact costs $3.75, but who ever let a quarter get in the way of misplaced outrage? Anyway enjoy that toast, slathered with a thick layer of tech-class hatred.

http://www.dinnerpartydownload.org/four-dollar-toast/

huffposttaste:

You’re welcome.

huffposttaste:

You’re welcome.

I Don’t Know How to Say This

I don’t know how to say this.

But my father left before I was born.

I lived with my mom far longer than I should. Then I moved out. And then I moved back in. And then I moved out. And then she moved in with me. And then we slept in the same bed. And then she moved out.

I think I deserve a lot of things that I’ll never have. Mostly because I don’t ask for them. Probably because I don’t think I deserve them.

I have two friends. I know a lot of people.

I don’t have time to cook anymore. When I do cook, it’s something very simple. Pasta. A scrambled egg. Toast.

I eat dinner on the couch every single night.

I made up a fake daughter so I could have something to talk about because I’ve run out of things to talk about and then I got bored with her so I stopped talking about her which is why I shouldn’t have kids.

I’ve eaten one vegetable in the last week. A few bites of spinach.

I sleep a lot. And I’m always tired.

I stopped feeling happy about three weeks ago. I’m scared that I’m depressed. But I won’t go see anyone because I’ll be fine probably.

My lower back hurts.

My shoulders hurt.

I sit in the same position for hours, it seems. I tell myself to move, to shift positions, but I can’t. Or I won’t.

I’ve started using boxed mixes, and I tell myself they’re pretty good.

I’m afraid that I’ll never put enough energy into doing anything that matters and nothing will add up to something.

I think I’m always going to be sad. Or hoping that I’m not going to be sad. One of those two things forever.

If you were sitting across from me right now, I don’t think I’d know how to say these things to you.

18

Feb

Think in fuck.

16

Feb

Raspberry Beignets from @guarnaschelli

I took Lemonaise, my fake daughter, for dinner at Alex Guarnaschelli’s restaurant, Butter. It was magical, and Lemonaise was VERY well behaved. Lots of approving smiles came my way from people who likely were surprised to see a non-existent child act in such a delightful manner.

For dessert, I ordered the jelly beignets. Lemonaise was already full from her tap water, so I had to eat all three of them myself. I cried from happiness, and I immediately Googled “Alex Beignets.” This is what I found…what appears to be the very beignets I was eating.

Make these. They are happiness.

Raspberry Beignets with Vanilla Dipping Sauce

14

Feb

For Hugh Acheson.

For Hugh Acheson.

A2M

A2M