Tag Archives: Food

She Withdrawls A Little….

16 Mar


It’s like a social warzone out there today. 

…After going back and forth with cloudy/sunny days across two weeks, it decided to rain today, and apparently piss everyone off in the meantime.

I’m not in a great mood either, but that’s beside the point.

Mine is based purely on being mid-day-seven without sugar, salt, fried food and liquor.  I feel this is a LEGITIMATE excuse to be cantankerous…definitely more than just “it’s raining.” Especially in this state.

…Everywhere I’ve gone today, people have been dicks.  Cutting you off in traffic…not once, but four or five times.  Kids throwing fits at the pet store and screaming at the top of their lungs while you’re stuck in a line that stretches past the adopted pets and amphibians all the way to the freaking bird food section, as the parents continue to ignore it completely like they’re deaf. A lady who wants to debate every single charge amount on her receipt at Bed, Bath & Beyond…they didn’t have any purses I wanted even a little bit at Marshalls or Ross…and then the topper: waiting in TWO Starbucks lines, with cutters.

…I fucking hate cutters. It just outrages me!

…I hate it even MORE when they are standing between me and the LAST CRUTCH ON EARTH allowed to me: a cup of black coffee.

The first time, the drive thru line was coming from so many directions, I let it slide and moved onto the next drive thru, further down the freeway…but by the SECOND time, I was ready to jump out of my car, rip open their door, and shove a bottle of Beta water conditioner up where the sun don’t shine.  Fucking Audi assholes and their goddamn cookie Frappuccinos!

…Now FINALLY I am home. Where I apparently should have just stayed to begin with.

I knew the pjs were using an old seduction line, but what works, works…and I should have just listened to the damn know-it-alls, and not even gone out today.

…Instead, I’m ticked off, with a half a thing of coffee left (as the Barista didn’t put the lid on right, yeah…you can guess how that turned out)…and now I’m off to make something green, that I don’t wanna eat, but don’t have a choice about, as it is all that exists in my house now, which is not yogurt…!!

…And “fruit on the bottom” can just kiss my ass!

(Rips shirt with giant coffee stain off, throws it on the floor, slams a chug of what’s left in the cup, and marches to the kitchen, indignantly.)

FUCKING DIETS!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!


Yoga, With A Burn

19 Feb


I’m on the fourth season of “Burn Notice,” and feel like it’s some kind of alien sucking all my brains.

…Finally got around to it on my Netflix cue, and now I can’t stop watching.

The leads are “okay,” (albeit stick people with chicklet teeth, and too-orange tans), but I keep watching on account of my great devotion to and love for Sam and Maddie. Sassy broads are my stock in-trade for lovin,’ as well as corny smart-ass side-kick dudes. Put them together as drinkin’ buddies and I am SOLD!

…I feel like I haven’t slept in four days.

(Mostly, I haven’t.)

I also feel like a beached whale.

…This is due to the fact I’ve gained a slight ton since my last show. And also on account of staring at all the chicks in bikinis they keep drowning you in, with every establishing shot, for this show. Apparently Florida hides the retirees and ugly, fat, pasty tourists indoors playing Bingo or something. Also, the half naked men.

…Where’s the beach-love-fantasies for the girls who watched this show?!?!??!!

Even though, (in my head) I know this isn’t the real world (or real Miami), it still makes reaching for the bag of Cheetos less fun, while festing. I feel too physically guilty…at least, after the first season. Honestly, it started fucking with my whole finger-lickin’ Nirvana, about half way through. Now, every time I get panged with a sloth-grossness vibe, I jump up and do fifteen to twenty minutes of Yoga through the rest of the episode. I’ve been known to do this four times per night. Mat, ball, weights: permanently where my coffee table should be. I think I’ve accidentally invented a new fitness regime they’ve missed out on, in the marketing.

…Although, on the flop side, thanks to team SamMad, it also makes me want to swill Mojitos and beer like a fish. If I were a smoker, I’d be totally fucked. Thankfully, where Mojitos are awesome in theory, I hate drinks with chunks of weeds floating in them, and I don’t stock beer. So: saving grace.



…Off to let the aliens devour me some more. Maddie is burning a Congressman with sex-threats, and Smokey’s Bandit is shootin’ shit UP. Obviously, that takes precedence.


Miracle Cheerios

29 Jul


I have these miracle Cheerios at the office. 

…If I were to guess on the conservative side for their date of purchase, I would place it sometime last year.  For certain, no earlier than Christmas.  I know this, as it was part two of a Costco box, and that was the last time I frequented said bulk-everything establishment.

Now, I dunno how or why…but when I was forced to dip into the bag again today (as a default lunch), the fuckers still crunch as loud as ever they did, and are minus any kind of stale or strange other funk one would for sure expect by this time in it’s expiration date.  Maybe the plastic around said Cheerios is made of the same special preservatives as English skin….like whatever they dipped Helen Mirren in.  Or Sophia Loren’s boobs. Or peanut butter. I dunno. 

…I also dunno why God, (who sorta has a lot of things going on at the moment) would take time out of his busy day to miracle-dose, said bag of Cheerios, specifically…but he clearly has, and did.  At this point, they are just shy of the death-without-deterioration laws that the Catholics set aside as Incorruptible.

…They could practically be canonized.  Right now.

These Cheerios are special. 

…They have been set aside as a kind of on-going residual food-source, whenever I am in need of one, and even when handfuls are subtracted, seem to hold the same bag-filling volume, ongoing to infinity.

At this point: they are a supernatural wonder.  For which I am thankful.

…May they so continue in their ongoing quest of emergency nourishment.

Forever and ever…

…(or at least ’til I remember to buy a new one.)



45 Cents

17 Jul


I really need it to have been payday, yesterday.

…The sad truth is that I’ve been on the grace period for my car loan payments since Monday, am just this side of tampon rationing, have stolen the travel sized toothpaste out of my theatre kit for real-life use, and my current capital worth is about 45 cents. In nickels.

…Luckily, I’m stocked up on TP and food.

As an actor, one learns (eventually) that this is the kind of life you should expect, NOT just as you struggle through your College student years…but, FOREVER.

…And because I don’t have a credit card, dealing in cash-only means never having that cushion of an ER fund to dip into, like normal people do.  When I say I have 45 cents, believe me: I have 45 cents.  And that is all.

…So, I’ll stretch that ’til Friday, at which time  I’ll need to pay all my bills but the rent, get Harriet’s oil changed, get a wedding present for Earnest, and purchase dairy, veg, and toiletries to make me human again.

…Till then: I’m just a poser…who jingles when she walks.


Of Yum

1 Jun


Friend over making amazing eats.

He has a degree in it. 

This always blows my mind. 

That people can “degree” in something so delicious.

Infused shallot butters, and brown-sugar ribs, pepper-bacon and cheddar cheese topped baked potatoes, and this amazing wonderment which turns out to be brown sugar in sour cream with strawberries and honey crisp apples.

…Yes, we will be eating around midnight.

…But we are midnight people. 

Plus I hiked around a lot today.

…And this is a very special occasion, called: “Someone wants to come over and cook delicious things in my kitchen and leave awesome left-overs for free.”

I try my best to always be accommodating on such occasions.

I’m “giving” that way.


Fam Time

18 May


It’s been a week of Cuz-time, from CA, today’s new arrival from Portland, and half of the Washington ones, all meeting up in one way or another. 

A lot of coffee, a little antiquing, hit up Pt. Defiance, toured Stadium, drove Ruston, a quick run through Olympia, crashed a dance fundraiser, visited over BBQ, walked the farm trails,  killed time at three different houses, watched movies, ate two roasts, a pizza, french toast, and heaping salads, and still managed to go to work, process payroll, run reports, learn lines and hit rehearsals in between.

…And yet, I kept wondering all day long, why I was so tired.

No amount of coffee seemed to quite counteract it.


Am now in bed, post-introducing the CA fam to “Galaxy Quest”…while the Portland one fought off a migraine with massive drugs and a red, satin, sleepy-eye mask.

Am writing my blog now, as quickly as I can…without a super-ton-alot of guilt, as the Portland Cuz is now sleeping under a mound of blankets, on the futon in my living room, and will be wanting to hit the road early with Bro (and his girl) in hand, a few hours from now.

So, this is it, friends.

Must catch the winks while I can.



Pirates, Paperwork, Pasta, & Polish Sausage

2 Apr


Up before the rooster again, for pill-taking purposes.  Heating pads galore.

…Paperwork, paperwork, paperwork.

…A bowl of pasta sprinkled with Moroccan chili spice, tossed with Polish sausage, and a spinach salad for dinner.

…A rehearsal that, for all the world, felt like the first one after five days off, with a bunch of new props, and the semi freak-out realization that we open in 10 days.

…Cloudy contacts all the way home.

…And why the hell did I hit the scale when I promised myself I wouldn’t until hormone water retention was past? 

…And why the hell, most especially, after a dinner containing half of Europe in my guts?

When was the last time I took pain pills?

All the past three days of 5 ams and 10 ams and 2 pms and 5:30 pms and 7pms, 10 pms and 1 ams, have bled together in one long string of pill-taking that honestly leaves me baffled on when and how the last batch was achieved.

I hate pills.

…And the scouting for pretzels or whatever to eat them with…

…When it’s still dark out…

…So I don’t puke all over myself…

…From upset tummy…

…Caused by the pills…

…Which are supposed to make me feel better.

So goes the medical profession.

…Their own special brand of “job security.”

…And speaking of medical professions:

Have spent past two days pirating Call the Midwife, Season 2.

…While paperworking.

As always, when I pirate, I feel bad and immediately kill each episode I rip, post-mortem.

…And add it to my Amazon wish list for actual purchase.

…But this way I still get to watch it when I want to…

…While poor.

…Without having to wait.

…Because I don’t feel like it right now.

…And I didn’t feel like it for the new Jonathan Creek, either.

…But I mean: for fucks sake, it has Joanna Lumley in it.

I’m not WAITING for that!

I’m WATCHING that!

Hells yes I am!

…And then I’ll put it on my list of things you should buy me for my birthday and stuff. As like, a sponsor. Or enabler. But it has nothing to do with food, so that’s okay.

…And speaking of food:

I want my pillow worse than a brownie fudge sundae right now.

…So I’m gonna have it.

…It’s way cheaper in calories, for one thing.

…And I’ll be gladder for it around 4:30 when the cramps begin to start beating on me again.

Yes: “Gladder.” I said it.


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