Category — nachos

I had these chips with my turkey sandwich today and the package had the audacity to put “ALL NATURAL” all over itself in pretty green letters…

But they were not all natural, unless soy lecithen is some kind of newly discovered fruit from a small village in Eastern Europe accessible only by a manually powered mountain tram operated by locals who are the only people in the world strong enough to do it because they subsist entirely on the soy lecithin berry.

I also had a Diet Coke.

I’m going to die of the cancer, aren’t I?

I just put too much curry powder in my tuna salad. No such thing, you say? Well, to that I say, “Gaaackfwaaahhhh” and then I put my mouth in the freezer.

I make my tuna salad with plain organic yogurt. I suggest you do the same, interwebsters, mayonnaise is for chumps. I also mix in apples, orange peppers (I only like the orange ones now, not sure why), baby spinach, jalapenos, and toasted pumpkin seeds. Then I eat it with some crackers. It looks like this…

And before you say anything - yes, I am well aware of the poop factor in this particular dish.

Tomorrow, I have to go to an 11 am screening - something about Mongols - so today I am just catching up on some blog reading, regular reading and Bridezillas laundry.

I really need to work on this Splinter Cell thing I promised for Erik at The Mercury as a kind of try cake, but I am just not going to have time, what with all the sitting and staring at the walls that needs to be done today.

I am very busy and important.

Last night we went over to Megan and Justin’s totally beautiful jealous making house (they have a room entirely dedicated to foosball which made Dane weep quietly to himself for a little while in a corner of the room, gently stroking the table with one hand and drinking a beer with the other) to play some Guitar Hero and watch Lost. And naturally, since they are people we like tremendously and we care what they think about us and I had vodka in my hand - I decided to talk about poop.

Look, anyone who has ever known me for more than five minutes knows I have always had stomach issues. Everyone in my family has them and we all blame my Grandmother whose idea of a salad was iceburg lettuce sprinkled with sugar. And I think, most girls put their anxieties into their gastrointestinal area rather than into their fist and then through a wall like men do. I’m not saying one is better than the other but I don’t know if it’s possible to spackle an ulcer.

Megan did not, of course, talk about her stomach things because she’s a lady but I am a 79 year old woman in a nursing home and cannot help myself and went on and on at length about the virtues of fiber and yogurt (the real kind, not the pie kind) and oatmeal. Mostly the oatmeal though because honestly people, it has changed my life. I am no longer a prisoner of my willful innards.

So, internet, here is the oatmeal I eat every morning which makes life worth living because I am no longer afraid that eating lunch will result in me lying curled up in the fetal postion under a blanket unable to talk or move or watch reality tv. AND IF THEY TAKE THAT AWAY FROM ME I WILL COME DOWN WITH THE WASTING DISEASE.

This is half a cup of regular rolled oats from Whole Foods, one ounce of sliced almonds, half a cup of blueberries (I know, I know, they’re not in season and they’re not local but fuck you Michael Pollan, you explain that to my belly), cinnamon, vanilla and almond extract (why not? we all need a little luxury in life), half a tablespoon of peanut butter, and a packet of stevia.

Judge me if you will, but we all poop. Except Eva Green. She probably just glows a little brighter for about sixty seconds and then rides away on her pet unicorn to her silver castle in Rivendell.

My review of First Sunday came out today! Yay for me!

Erik edited the hell out of it (in a good way) and it makes much more sense now. I have a tendency to overparenthesize and also maybe make words up.

Oh! ANNNNND…I thought Chi McBride was Charles Durning right up until about 8 o’clock last night. If I worked at The Daily Planet, Mr. White would SO have fired my ass.

But I don’t so he didn’t.

I just came back from Whole Foods and Powells. I bought that French Women Aren’t Fat Like You Are Fatty McAmerican book. Maybe I bought it for my mom, YOU DON”T KNOW. Don’t judge me.

I also bought the new Vanity Fair with Harrison Ford and Shia LaBoeuf on the cover to hide the fact that I was buying the lamest Oprah Book Club Today Show Segment thing ever and I was reeeeallly hoping a lady would ring me up. Instead, some Art School jerk was my cashier. He probably doesn’t even work at Powell’s. I think he just had a break between digital filmmaking and screenprint design so he jumped behind the counter to ruin my day. I haven’t been so embarrassed since I had to return panties to Urban Outfitters. Because they were too SMALL.

Meh.

But I made an excellent tuna salad with about 50 million vegetables in it. I’m going to call it The Dane Salad. Right?

I’ve read a little of the French lady book and I have one problem. I can’t take the stairs up to our apartment (frenchy exercise) in our building unless I first take the elevator up to the second floor. It’s some kind of post 9/11 rule to keep dumb people from running back upstairs to get their iphones if we’re attacked by terrorists. Well, you know what America? The terrorists won’t need to attack us because we’ll be so fat from not taking the stairs that we’ll die of a collective massive coronary in the middle of watching American Gladiators. With one hand in a bucket of nacho cheese sauce and the other on the remote. Screw you Burlington Tower! Or should I say, Fattington Tower?

I’m not very good at Role Playing Games.

We went over to Sy and Liam’s this weekend for an afternoon/evening of Dungeons and Dragons.

I AM TOTALLY SERIOUS.

Dane used to play it all the time as a kid, but despite my childhood love of all things Slurpee/Nachos…I had never played it before. I love sci-fi and fantasy (like they were one of my OWN) and I also love sitting on the couch for long periods of time so this seemed like a no brainer.

But I just can’t get into it. At least not like this kid…

It’s totally not Liam’s fault, or Sy’s, or the fault of their funny friends. Or the chili they made for everyone. (DELICIOUS). It’s my fault. I kind of forgot about how when I’m reading say a George RR Martin or a Jack Whyte, I skip over the battle scenes. All of them. I just want to read about the political intrigue (a cunning dwarf! Oooooh!), the character development (anti-hero turns pro!), the costumes (leathery), and the incest (Yay! I mean eeewwwww).

Mostly the incest.

What?

For some reason, Mass Effect keeps freezing on Dane and he loses his shit a fair majority of his progress when this happens. My character, however, - my female character - doesn’t seem to have this problem. I credit the boobs. Then again, I’m no scientist.

In related news, I managed to write a Pampelmoose post today about Feist performing on the Today Show. I think this was the first post I’ve written in over a week for the Moose. I really should be writing more often (also, rain is wet and chocolate milk comes from chocolate cows) but I suppose I’ve just been distracted by the XBox, wedding things, shiny objects, and vegetables.

I love vegetables. Dane doesn’t. Therefore, I can only conclude he must be a terrorist - but the kind of terrorist who would sneak nachos onto a plane instead of a bomb. And isn’t that JUST the sort of terror America needs? Am I right?

What?