I craves...

Eggs!  All week I've been devouring those fuckers.  And by fuckers I mean egg-beaters.  Which means I'll never be able to use these super cute gun shapes for 'em, because they demand to be made into scrambles... maybe these things could be used as cookie cutters.

 Every item in the fridge has made at one point or another into that gooey mixture.  Tomatoes, basil, garlic, shallots, cilantro, bell peppers, chiles, corn, spinach, croutons and cheese have all  been mercilessly sacrificed to my craving de jour.  

Even when I've had nasty egg things, like the commune eggs from Mao's (I know it's shocking that commune doesn't equal delicious) I still ate all the egg out of the dish.  They've been burned into our collective food mind, I know this because X just sent me a recipe for a better (edible) version of the dish and it's been over a week since we were subjected to this trauma.  

The further confession of a beverage addict

So my foray into sobriety has not been as smooth a transition as I thought it would be.  I have been drinking, but a lot less.  I almost cut out hard liquor and now I have a glass of wine instead of a whole bottle.  And I don't buy wine every time I go to the store, so I've gone from buying booze on an almost daily basis to once a week.  So I'm still pleased with my self.  But I'm just addicted to fluids, no alcohol, then I have diet soda, no soda, then give me some juice, no juice, then I make some coffee.  If I'm desperate I'll drink water.  The other day we only had orange juice in the house and I drank the whole thing.
It's like I always want to be tasting something.  I would eat more snacks, but as a compulsive hand washer I can't do any other chores while eating.

Consumed by lunch

I can't think straight, I want food so bad.  It's not that I'm that hungry, I'm just craving something, something cheesy.  Actually, anything cheesy.  So, in the meantime, to quell my hunger/craving I'm drinking black coffee.  Yum, delicious black coffee.  I should boil it down on the warmer, so it'll get nice and thick.  And burnt.  Then I could pretend it's food.  Awful food that has been served at a socially important dinner party, so no one has any choice but to eat.  It would be good practice.

In 'n Out proposal

Every week we go to In 'n Out, this last time with our regular cronies, and was struck by a brilliant idea thanks to really lousy service.  That we get jobs there!  Second jobs, actually, but they pay well compared to other fast food places, at least.  I can serve people poorly! 

 This idea only works if we get we all get to work the same shifts, otherwise it won't be quite the adventure I'm hoping for.  This also meshes very nicely with my plan to have myself, and all friends, live in a cheap, read rat's nest, place in Long Beach.   If we live in the bad part of town, we could probably get a two bedroom for less than $800.  It won't even matter if the place gets robbed, because we will all have pawned our valuables by that point in time.  

I always feel better when I have a plan B, or in this maybe I should call it plan FU.

Celebration at the Indian place!

So last night M and I went out to our favortive Indian place, Gill's, to celebrate some positive feed back on my jewelry. Their website is currently down, but if you should ever get the chance, go there. But call ahead they have odd hours, their number is (213) 623-1050. I've also included their location at the bottom, bottom, bottom of this post.
Anyway the food was great, the ambience was just the way we like it, but the interesting part occurred after dinner. The manager, or owner, maybe, came to out table and started chatting with us, telling us how we "such beautiful ladies." He went on and on( and no, we didn't get a free meal, or a beautiful lady discount, although I should have asked about the latter). The interesting/odd thing is that we have been there many, many time before and this has never happened. We theorize this occurred because we had both just come from work, and the combination of our work personas and work clothes, that sent off the "Yes, we are employed and not just college students" signal. I think, to a practical sort of person, that's the most attractive quality in the world.

Maybe I could start drinking Babycham instead...

I mean just look at this ad, isn't great?  And it's only a hard cider....

The only catch is that it seems like it might be a bit hard to find state side.  But I will track it down one way or another.  I will drink this pear cider, damn it.  If any one finds this in LA county please let me know.  Maybe I should put wheat paste poster that read "missing, one deer, responds to the name Babycham."  Would that get people attention or would it just get me in trouble?  

Thanksgiving wishes

There are so many reasons I won't be able to do this, but I'm so in love with the idea I invite you all to experience it in your imaginations. To make this extra assuming you should know that I'm a vegetarian.

 I invite all my friends over for Thanksgiving dinner, the is table set, the chairs are ready, but oddly there's no smell of food in the air.  Everyone sits down and I disappear into the kitchen to fetch our meal.  I come carrying a big, white, plastic bucket with a tightly sealed lid.  I plop that bucket at the head the table, since I'm the hostess I'll need to serve everyone.  I pry off the lid, I drool in anticipation of the bounty which we about to receive, and I start to put pig fetuses on to everyone's plates.  "There very trendy right now, and since they were never born, they weren't killed, which makes them a vegetable, so I can eat 'em!  Aren't I clever guys?"  My guest quickly leave as the stench of formaldehyde, or as I call it, the stench of success, fills the room.  

The inspiration for this occurred when I saw the tub o' pig fetuses in a school biology catalog and immediately started dreaming of their many uses.  It's out of price range, and, well I believe that pre-natal pigs are vegetables, I could never eat something so gosh-darn cute.  I also thought they would be fun to throw at cars.