Archive for Foodstuffs
Peanut Butter Pinkberry Baby
did you hear @johncusack came into Pinkberry last night?! His #swirlygoodness preference? Half peanut butter and original with carob chips.—
Pinkberry (@PinkberryCHI) February 04, 2012
As a fellow frozen yogurt junkie (ask anyone), I can unabashedly say that if I were to travel to Chicago right now, I would be all up in that particular Pinkberry. I wouldn’t go for the peanut butter or carob chips though. I’m all about the original, with lots of fruit and granola. Strawberries, mango, pineapple, blackberries and occasionally kiwi. Yumm.
Oh HELLLLLL No.
This medicine that I’m on has officially rendered me lactose intolerant. Fuck me.
Do you know how much straight up milk I consume on a daily basis?
Anyone who knows me will understand that this means my life is essentially over.
I have to drink Lactaid® now. This is what my mom drinks. She became lactose intolerant just a few years ago after 60 some odd years of hardcore lactose-lovin’. I get that it’s real milk just without the lactose, but still… something about that just feels so fundamentally wrong to me right now. The lactose-laden 2% milk-drinking elitist bitch in me just doesn’t want to admit that I will probably survive the switch.
But ugh, you can’t even buy a whole gallon of Lactaid®! You have to buy it in these stupid little half gallons that are more expensive than a gallon of regular milk! My mom buys it anyway, but given the amount of milk that I’m driven to consume in a week, we will need MORE. Do we really have the money to support this lactose-free fuckery? Am I going to have to cut back? (of course not, why did I even suggest that?).
I just never thought that it would happen to me. Excuse me while I go question my life.
What a poopy day. I’m sick.
I have an extremely cold/heat sensitive molar. Uuuuuugh. I woke up with a super sore throat, a cough….and realized that I had not completed like 90% of my homework for the day. I’m really craving a nice cold, tall glass of milk right now. It would be really comforting…but unfortunately it would also increase the production of mucus in my sinuses, so…right now milk is a no-go.
This was breakfast:
"chicken flavored"
I figured if I drank enough of the soup broth, it would be equivalent to doing a salt-water gargle; my throat was somewhat soothed by the extreme sodium content.
This was lunch:
"vanilla flavored"
Good for throat. Bad for tooth. You may be thinking….if milk causes mucus…would ice cream not also cause mucus? Yes…I am, in retrospect, thinking of that as well…. <_<
And dinner? ….We’ll see if I even make it to dinner.
I apologize for being so bitchy and complainy lately. This really isn’t in my nature, is it? I hope not. I am just all disoriented in my life right now. On the plus side of this madness, I have been entertaining the thought of becoming a science-fiction author. I have an idea for my first novel…about a girl recently relocated with her parents to a transhumanist pilot colony in Silicon Valley. She becomes a prototype for something I cannot reveal at this point in time. More later.
Wienerdog, Dawn
An obscure photo reference to 1995 Todd Solondz cult classic gold.
My mom prepared a snack for us the other afternoon (lol, that seems silly), and when I realized that it was fish sticks and Hawaiian punch, I had to chuckle. Fish sticks? Punch? I was soo Steve stopping by for an afternoon visit to the Wiener household. Hilarious!…I’m pretty fucking certain Dawn gives him fish sticks and Hawaiian punch, and he disgustingly snarfs it down, licking his fingers. He even makes a few weird noises.
I’ve watched and rewatched that scene so many times. In fact, Steve scarfing the fish sticks, probably ranks up there with *all* of the Brandon/Lolita/Ralphie/Mark scenes in that film as being my favorites scenes in that film. All of the eating that takes place in the film is really… gross..
Get a load of this finger-licking fish stick action.
Hooray.
So, this evening my mom and I hung out at my aunt’s house for a while. While there we partook in hot wings and had a heart-to-heart (or heart-to-CPU, in my case). Then I drove us to the grocery store to get some stuff for dinner. I’m going to make stuffed peppers for my parents tonight. After we picked up some fresh peppers, garlic, parsley, diced tomato, bow-tie pasta, pasta sauce, ground beef and pork sausage (among a few other items), I drove us home.
I’m thinking for toppings I can crush up some croutons, and we’ve got plenty of onion and rice at home. It should be good. I’ll take yummy photos.
Although, I really need to work on my decision making skills (I know, the course didn’t help much…). I spent nearly 10 minutes in the grocery store deliberating over whether or I not I should buy the onion & garlic pasta sauce…or the cheese & garlic sauce, and what the flavor ramifications of either decision would be…I went with the cheese & garlic.
Goddamnit, Chris.
There was apparently a beam-up badge inside of that box of Kellogg’s Corn Pops we bought weeks ago??? Well I went in there to find it today, and it was FUCKING GONE. WHAT THE FUCK.
I WANT THAT BADGE, CHRIS. I would have a better chance of getting into Starfleet than you would anyway!
Stupid brothers. They ruin everything.
Update: I just noticed that our cereal cabinet has been overrun by Star Trek ads. We have not just one, but four boxes of cereal all claiming I can receive free Starfleet t-shirts and flash drives in the mail if I collect cereal box tokens….no word yet on the beam-up badge.
All I dreamt about last night was food.
Seriously. I was eating something in every goddamn scene of the dream that I can remember. Biscuits. It was mostly biscuits. Biscuits with grape jam and butter, biscuits with raspberry preserves, biscuits with peanut butter and jelly, biscuits with honey and blackberry dip, biscuits with biscuits in them. Part of the dream took place at a fucking buffet. I shit you not.
There was also a long portion of the dream that I spent transporting cheeseburgers in and out of the teacher’s lounge at my old high school. Cheeseburgers, in and out, in and out in a greasy paper sack. I must have eaten about four of them in the process. At one point I ran into Ms. Docter, one of my old math teachers, and she asked me to give her the cheeseburgers and that she would store them in her office. Reluctantly, I said ‘OK’, but not before sneaking one out of the bag and into my purse.I remember then walking into the gym for phys. ed. (lol, right?)….and the wall was lined with pans upon pans of warm, buttery, flaky biscuits. And I wanted every last one of them.
Fuck. I’m going to go make a sandwich.
