My friends and I had been hearing only the best things about this Korean restaurant in Northeast Philadelphia. It seemed like we couldn’t walk ten paces without someone enthusiastically telling us to go to this place and get the fried chicken wings. GET THE CHICKEN WINGS.
So we went and amidst great confusion got the wings. It might not seem a great trial to order fried chicken wings (for a normal person’s life). But this might clarify why we ordered with shaky voices, “the chicken wings?” (waitstaff love nothing more than when you phrase your food order as a question):
That’s the menu. Is the hot lady a meal option? She’s both “sweet AND hot.”
The wings were mother fucking delicious. Because the wings might be people. And, dammit, people wings are fucking delightful.
The other night I decided to make nachos as a celebratory meal for finishing a Tuesday well done. And also because I feel less pathetic cooking dinner for one (plus cats) when it’s a featured item on the Chili’s menu.
Some people think “nachos” and this is what is brought to their imagination:
whoever made this is a miracle worker of culinary proportions
I make a less traditional nacho, comprised of only two ingredients:
This is more my speed
After throwing those into the broiler there are some that might diligently wait by the oven and wait for the cheese to melt and then proceed with feasting. But I am not some, and instead walked to my local 7-11 to get additional grocery-like supplies.
I returned to a miniature conflagration in my kitchen.
Since I paid attention in grade school I knew that I needed to get a fire extinguisher right quick. I ran to my hallway to grab it and that is where I found:
Happy 2013!
As it turns out, a fire extinguisher two years expired doesn’t work on a molten mass of flaming triscuits. So I did what any person would do. I grabbed six towels, opened the window, and threw the firey food into the softly falling snow.
And then I left a PSA where the expired fire extinguisher used to be for my landlord to see
I like most things in my life to have a very high production value. But it came as a shock to me to see my chips taking life so seriously, especially considering their humble origin from the 79 cent chip rack at 7-11 (girl’s gotta eat)
Damn son
I can finally throw my vibrator away, these chips are going to be satisfying me from now on.
What does this look like to you? Does it look like candy? An adorable pumpkin shaped candy? Let’s say you dig your hand into the basket of Halloween candy in the back of your office pull this out, think it’s some sort of candy corn, and proceed to eat it.
When you realize that it’s actually an eraser, and that you are eating an eraser at work, what would you do:
Covertly spit it out while hiding the shame on your face
Try to pull it off like it IS actually candy and just eat an eraser
I did one of the above. I will let you decide which.
Oh hey! There was hurricane throughout the East Coast from Sunday to Tuesday of last week. Did you hear about this? Gotta tell you, I ignored every single news report of it because my evil Canadian overlord (see: my job) almost assuredly wouldn’t close. I prepared for the hurricane as the best little You Life I could be. I went to the dollar store and got the essentials:
cat food – look at how fucking terrified that cat is, also 30% protein? Amazing. Cat litter – for cartoon animals
And diet coke.
Sunday night I was lounging when I got a call that indicated that the East Coast was going to fall into the ocean: my office was closed. Perhaps I should have purchased a candle? Nope – let the rains come.
The beginning of the hurricane stay-vaction
On Monday I woke up to a gray sky, but nothing that indicated to me that the gods’ were wrathful. After waking up, going back to sleep, waking up again, and then trying to make a cup of coffee from an espresso machine that I forgot I stole from a cunty ex-roommate I was up. Starving. Bored.
So I assessed the following two things: the secret reserves in the apartment
This is for the end times. The secret storage of candy, syrup, and strawberry fluff
And how it looked outside:
Let’s be frank. There is only so much reading, movie watching, hobby-doing, and masturbating that a person can do in one day. At around two I had enough. I left the apartment to walk to get food. Nothing was open. So then, I did what any adult would do.
I went to see how terrifying the playground was during the hurricane
Shortly after going on the swings a police officer drove by and gave me a very stern tongue lashing pertaining to the idiocy of wandering around during a storm.
Returned home.
Sent this text message to my best friend after the lights started flickering:
“I better not have to wank off by candle light” (it would be like jerking off during Little House of the Prairie times. I want to crank it with all of the modern amenities).
Hunger took over. So I did what I needed to do…
I defrosted the chocolate bunnies from Easter, seven months earlier, and covered them in Cupcake magic shell for dinner
Sadness. Utter sadness.
Finally a friend without power came over with the barest of cooking supplies (defrosted chicken thighs, a mini pan, rice, and rum). Seeing as how I don’t own any of the following: cooking oil, a pot, utensils, or a pan it was going to be a trial to cook both the chicken and rice. But, since I am a bit of a fucking wizard I made an entire meal using the smallest frying pan known to man and an iron skillet that was so large that it could have cooked me. I steamed the rice in the skillet with a pizza box. INDUSTRIOUSNESS.
While cooking this a Queen song played in the background. What is covering the bitty frying pan? A metal pizza “stone” …rust side up.
Tuesday:
Tried to sleep in. With great success
Played SNES for hours
In the battle for Kirby dominance I told Happy Brother Senior to eat an entire bag of dicks and finished the victor.
And then it all de-evolved after the second entire day without leaving the apartment. It de-evolved into me creating this “mojito” mix that I think was a code for rat poison. It called to fill a plastic bucket with warm water, this neon green powder, and rum. Later on that day I could be found amongst the piles of VHS tapes in my apartment, eating the slushy poison out of a bucket, dancing to the last song from the credits in Legend.
No seriously, Tangerine Dream is fucking out of this world amazing.
And that is how I survived.
Because I was fine. And my love was strong enough.
Hearts, and flowers, and posi vibes to those not as ridiculously fortunate as me.
I wasn’t allowed to have snack food growing up. No soda, no caffeine, no candy. My mother was, and is, a phenomenal cook which meant that I was blessed with awesome meals everyday – including packed lunches.
There is a part of me that would like to repay these healthy eating habits during my youth with a balanced and mature response to the ability to now purchase my own groceries and prepare my own meals.
On the other hand. Breakfast candy sounds delightful
Good morning, cancer. I’ve noted that the main ingredients in most of my breakfast consisted of colors and numbers.
Some time ago, in a land not far far away, a girl made a promise to herself to stop eating as though her fast metabolism was going to last forever.
Just a brief example of what I like to eat for breakfast. Mega Blow Pop stories to follow at a later date.
I have a great deal of trepidation that one day my Cheetos® for breakfast fare will cause me a massive coronary before the age of 30. After much speculation I decided to eat better and exercise regularly. The next day I ate a bagel with cream cheese and Cheez-It®s (see previous entry). So, I figured that maybe I would become obsessed with working out and getting a gym membership.
But so far there is only one thing I am obsessed with.
Cheez-It®
And, yes, you are seeing that correctly. It’s a pizza covered in Cheez-It®s and then doused with hot sauce.
This is a perfect craft for people who want to bring the charm and hilarity to, say, a breaking and entering. No one will shoot the felon in a watermelon mask! Admittedly this is also a guest post, as the watermelon mask was supplied (filled with tequila) by Cassie P, and crafted by the extremely talented John L. I am the one modeling it.
I’ve come to steal all of your cupcakes! And pet your dog!
How to do it? Easy sauce:
Step 1: Fill watermelon with tequila – as done by Cassie
Step 2: Drink the tequila
Step 3: Eat the watermelon
Step 4: Get John L to cut it up into a mask
Step 5: Put that shit on your face. Watch out for the knife and also your friend not caring that they are putting a piece of fruit with a knife in it onto you face.
You life is not so great 