If you can feasibly wrap it up in a tortilla, you definitely should. Everything is better when eaten like a burrito.
Category: junk food
…either that or really lowering my standards.
I just consciously drank two-day-old expired milk because, hey, it still tasted okay. And I didn’t think twice about it. Until now, I guess, when I’m clearly thinking about it again. But that doesn’t count.
This is likely the first time I ever willfully consumed anything past its date stamp. It somehow makes me feel more grown up. Is that weird? Maybe it’s just that I’m noticing that I truly am becoming my mother. ;) (Hey Ma! Love ya!)
This is a judge-free zone, right?
So now I’ll tell you the best tasting thing ever.
Butter plus brown sugar, beaten until it’s creamy, right before you add anything else to the cookie dough. I mean really, why even bother with the other ingredients? (Except maybe for the chocolate.)
I’ve consumed a lot of fortune cookies lately, and I’ve noticed something. I think the Powers-That-Be (or rather, the Powers-That-Be-In-Charge-Of-Fortune-Cookies) are trying to get through to me. Each crumbly little cookie has delivered the same type of message. Take a look:
I sense a theme, no? Moral of the story: Be on the lookout for opportunities. That’s a hunt I was already on, since I’m looking for a job at the moment. Hopefully this is a good sign. Think I should bring these fortunes into my next job interview as proof that they should hire me?
Bryant’s fortunes have had a pretty sweet theme, too:
Phew! What a relief! Here’s hoping there’s something to all of that.
Mmm, cereal. My go-to breakfast or mid-day snack (or dinner, I won’t lie). Earlier this week, I got home from school, poured myself a giant bowl of Cinnamon Toast Crunch, and sat down in front of the TV to relax for a few. As I polished off the last sugar-coated square, I noticed something kind of weird. A tiny dark clump floating in the now sugar-saturated milk. I thought, “It’s probably just a clump of cinnamon or maybe a little broken off chunk of cereal.” But it looked odd enough that I scooped it up into my spoon and went to examine it under better light.
I don’t know if I’m glad or regretful that I did that.
Dead bug. Chilling on my spoon. In a little puddle of milk. It was a creepy, brown, segmented bug with about a million legs packed on to it’s tiny body. Who cares if it was probably only about 1/16 of an inch and you needed a magnifying glass to really see it, it still completely grossed me out. I sat there looking at my bowl of sugary milk, freshly eaten, and I wondered how many of those critters made it down the hatch into my stomach.
Gross. After inspecting the bag and finding a tiny hole in the bottom, I threw it out, sprayed down the shelves in the cupboard, and kind of swore off cereal for a while.
And now I sit here, days later, stomach rumbling, so hungry for breakfast, craving some cereal, but too afraid to try. I wish I could think of it as camping, where you don’t really care if a bug or two joins you for your meal. But that mental game isn’t helping. I just really prefer it if there aren’t any bugs in my cereal. Or at least that I’m unaware of their presence.
PS. Don’t google “bug in cereal” unless you want an adventure. Apparently, my 1/16″ bug is nothing.
One of the nice things about this new apartment is all of the electrical outlets. There’s like one on every wall. Seriously. It’s a huge upgrade from our last apartment, which had about three outlets in the whole place—none of which were grounded.
So I’ve taken this opportunity to get something I’ve never had the luxury of using before: plug-in air fresheners. (Totally classy, I know. What can I say, we’re moving up in the world.)
This month’s flavor?
Vanilla. …Sweet, sugary, delicious vanilla.
And it’s killing me. Every time I walk into the living room, I’m hit with this amazing smell of sugar cookies and frosting. Bryant’s dying too. Every now and then you can hear one of us shout, “I want frosting!” I swear, this air freshener is going to make us each gain 20 pounds. We might have to get rid of it if we don’t get used to the smell soon.
Four random thoughts of the moment:
- I never tire of Hint of Lime Tostitos.
- My instructor cancelled lecture tonight, so I got home from school an hour and a half earlier than normal. Score.
- Someone keeps parking in our spot. It doesn’t really matter because we have two parking spaces and only one car. And it doesn’t always bug me, but tonight it kind of did. When I pulled in (an hour and half early!), I saw that same red car parked in our spot and got out my pen. I wrote a note pointing out that we pay for the spot and would like it if they stopped parking there. But I chickened out and didn’t put it on their car. Sigh.
- Lost. Tonight. Three hours! (Yes, I’m still watching and loving that. Isn’t anyone else?)
We found this cool place in Seattle called “Fainting Goat Gelato,” and as everyone knows, anything with goat in the title must be excellent. The word gelato doesn’t hurt either.
Needless to say, the goat rule of thumb didn’t let me down; it was excellent. Bryant got the fainting goat flavored gelato. Thankfully, it didn’t taste like goat… at least not what I imagine goat to taste like. It was made with goat milk and this funky dried berry/raisin-looking thing (though we can’t remember its name) from some Greek island (though we can’t remember which one), but the locals have this tradition that it possesses special healing properties. I’m not sure if Bryant felt healed after eating it, but he was in a pretty good mood. It tasted odd and delicious. I like when those two adjectives join forces. My stracciatella was delicious, too.
Anyone who wants to come visit us will get a trip to Fainting Goat. …What? You thought I was above bribery?
Also, as we were walking down the street and fattening up on our delicious dairy desserts, we saw THIS:
(Er… whatever it takes?)
I’ve found my new favorite street in Seattle. Just thought I’d pass that along.
It’s that time again:
(Yes, that’s my empty bag… purchased two nights ago… and yes, I finished it off yesterday… don’t judge.)
It’s the most wonderful time of the year! ;)
What is it about a heaping spoonful of cookie dough that makes even the most stressful of days feel surmountable?
Maybe that sentiment is symptomatic of some unhealthy relationship with food festering in my subconscious.
But maybe it’s so good at relaxing me because it triggers fond memories of those carefree sleepover days, when Leigh and I would pack up all our worldly possessions, make a fort out of the the living room swivel chairs, and settle in for a night of unharnessed giggling, M.A.S.H. fortune-telling, and watching “Boy Meets World” or “Are You Afraid of the Dark?” (which actually did scare me). The night would of course be incomplete without a tube of Nestle cookie dough.
Or maybe I like it because it’s just so stinkin’ delicious.
Whatever. All I know is it does the trick.