The first night of the cage match fight to the death started out rather inauspiciously with David and me standing around the kitchen about to gnaw our own arms off, wholly unable to make a decision about dinner. We were at that testy point of hunger when blood sugar drops to just above death, eyes narrow, and speech emerges from somewhere guttural and dark. Continue reading “cage match fight to the death–round 1–radishes”
Yesterday I told David what the title to my most recent post was and he said, “So I guess you’re not cooking vegetables anymore, huh?” Continue reading “if you stop this fight i’ll kill you–rocky balboa”
Other than me, my mom is without a doubt the single most least-capable person I know. She called me last week to ask how to use a garlic press. No lie. She is also insanely aggressive in her quest to correct this hiccup in her design. Plus, she has the kind of competitiveness and attitude toward winning that make being in competition with me look like a day at the spa. And she doesn’t even cheat. That I know of.
Continue reading “smells like teen spirit, I mean, the odor of my perspiration, I mean, an ode to my inspiration”
In the spirit of trying new things, I ate an eyeball.
Continue reading “battle 29–radishes”
Public transportation turns me on, y’all. I don’t mean, like, I see a city bus and get all hot and bothered; I just mean I have a real love for the lifestyle I think a good mass transit system supports. Whenever I dream of my life as a tortured, starving artist (with expensive shoes and a Jenny Aniston hair cut, circa now, not circa Friends), it’s always midnight and I’m on a train headed home to my postage stamp-sized apartment from whatever gallery opening or swank new restaurant I couldn’t afford so I just stood at the bar sipping tap water with lime and looking hot with my pretty shoes. Shoes, glorious shoes.
Continue reading “a blonde, an asian american, and barbara boxer walk into a bar”
Does anyone remember how all this foolishness got started? I’ve been thinking about it lately while I haven’t been cooking or eating vegetables but have been eating some great meat cooked by other people at Decatur’s newest burger joint. The answer is: I have no idea. I think it was an accident. I mean, I know I had a series of revelations about what a baby I’ve been about eating vegetables all my life, but no other revelation has ever led me to wake up one day and forfeit a way of life I’ve worked so hard for. I think it’s possible my abducted by aliens theory may have legs.
Continue reading “eat, vegetables, love”
I ate onions. You read that right. I cross-my-heart-and-hope-to-die ate onions. On my own accord. And no one gave me a goddamn penny to do it.
Continue reading “the one where i ate onions”