Before I forget…

I started my busy day in a grumpy mood because everything was going wrong. I couldn’t get the cat out of the living room. I couldn’t get the garage door to close. I tried to start and de-ice my car with the wrong set of keys. Etc.

Later on I went on a mission to drop some boxes to UPS (something which went wrong on Saturday). I did so at the UPS downtown.  Being so close I also  visited chocolate cafe and got a Mexican hot chocolate (chocolate with cinnamon and chile powder-  not bad) to cure my grumpiness, bought some treats for my nice Aunt and talked to a girl with interesting glasses. I asked her where to find the bathroom and learned that it had its own special elevator to the basement and may or may not require a non existent key.

Eventually with the help of building security I found said elevator and embarked on my bathroom journey down a lime green abandoned hallway with many doors. Upon leaving the elevator I tripped over a hallway speed bump (who is driving down here?) and walked past  many warnings that I was being videotaped (I don’t really believe them, it looked like a decent place to die down there and there was nothing to steal). Eventually I found the restroom which was unlocked and tiny. There were two stalls which doors could not be opened at the same time due to space.

Upon doing my business I noticed a lot of stall scrawlings about “for a very good time call….” and “wanna get high? call…..” etc. Are visitors to an old building which boasts typically cigars, jewelry, and chocolate so salacious? It made me wonder what I would find if I called these numbers. I don’t necessarily want any weed or good times (well maybe the latter, but I’d need more info) I just want to know what kind of person finds it necessary to deface every bathroom no matter how dingy or nice. In Athens, OH you cannot find a single bathroom without some kind of sharpie’d nonsense graffiti regarding bar “shuffles”, feminist garbage, rage against those who’ve scratched out prior scribblings or who’ve been awful to eachother, or who loves whom. Even when a bathroom is remodeled or painted, within days it is defaced again. Likewise, yesterday I visited a bar near broad-ripple with plenty of similar contact information laden graffiti, some scuttlebut about a missing robot and a picture of a chihuahua who wanted some weed.

I’m of course most interested in the phone numbers; I have to wonder if it is the dealer/loose woman who is writing these numbers or someone seeking old fashioned revenge. I just kind of want to know who is on the other line,  to call them and find out the deal. Anyhow on my way out of this shithole shitter I hit my head on both sides with the purse hook and stall after banging my door against the other open stall door and forgot this idea until just now. Seems like a good photography/interview project/blog/article for the near future.


Food review: Yves Meatless Ground

Yves Meatless Ground

Just say “No” to Yves

Let me start this post by saying I got 4 hours of sleep and I’m pretty unfocused and unproductive right now. The most productive thing to do might actually be to take a nap but I have to make my feelings about this fake meat known for some compulsory reason.

My battle with onions is well known. There are onions in everything. One might think that onions make a good inexpensive filler or that there’s an assumption I think that onions make food taste “home made” or “good”. I don’t mind them but they make my boyfriend sick so I try to avoid them like the plague.

I mistakenly grabbed this product because ground fake meat is  becoming increasingly hard to find or justify paying for especially with the abundance of obligatory onions. i sometimes default to ground chicken or turkey for tacos but its just not as good. i needed a damn taco. I thought I’d bought this stupidly named product and liked it before but I was thinking of Q’uorn, another stupidly named product made from mushroom protein that they didn’t have. I thought I could trust Yves because they make edible veggie corn dogs.

I habitually scan ingredient lists to search for unnecessary onions and garlic. I didn’t see any listed in the ingredients. I went home, cooked it in a pan with some liquid smoke and taco dust and discovered many cm square pieces of translucent onion, so many that I couldn’t even pick them out.  When I did a double take of the box, I discovered onions were the THIRD INGREDIENT.

If you’re not familiar with how ingredient lists work, they order them from the most abundant ingredient to the smallest trace ingredients in order. Being the grouchy kitchen bitch that I am, I promptly returned the offending crumbles to Kroger to get my NINE DOLLARS back. Fuck you, fake meat. We had stringy chicken breast tacos and it just wasn’t the same even though they were ok because I made them.

And on a side note, I think marketing realistic meat alternatives to vegans is a little like marketing dildos to lesbians. Also, since when does meat HAVE to taste like onions, garlic and spices? Just make the fake meat “meat” flavored or even nothing flavored and let me work out the spices.

Kitchen Disasters

Last night I had my first kitchen disaster in a long ass time. I was bound and determined to make donuts. Sour cream donuts to be exact, the best crunchy misshapen kind of donut. I was multitasking as always– taco meat was cooking (had to do something with the extra sour cream, plus tacos are suitable for every night*+), taco shells were crisping in the oven, oil was heating on the range for donut frying, dough was rolled, floured and cut into picture perfect donuts and holes while icing waited to be dipped into.

All of a sudden I lifted the lid on the hot oil and flames spontaneously erupted. It was of course terrifying. I put the lid back on and put the pot outside but not before all of the parts of the house I use filled with smoke and the stench of defeat. After spending an hour or so clearing the smoke out and washing the smell out of my hair, I baked the donuts in the oven and they came out certifiably “okay”. Thankfully this type of thing does not happen all that often.

This all could have somehow gone a lot worse, but it reminded me of other kitchen disasters I have had such as:

  • tacos tipping over (“stand and stuff” is a lie)
  • bacon smog fog every time i make it
  • getting drunk and melting a bread bag on the stove while trying to make grilled cheese (2009)
  • The heating element in the oven burning out mission impossible fuse style (2009)
  • dropping pecan pie with chocolate ice cream upside down on the floor (2008)
  • Slicing my finger open on a meat slicer while working at a deli- my and any customers worst nightmare (2007)
  • eggs breaking on carpet (1998) (who carpets a kitchen? my dad.)
  • dropping a trifle of cake, cool whip and berries fashioned to look like an american flag on the ground  (1993)
  • getting caught stealing birthday cake frosting prior to bday part (1989)

*celebrity taco endorsement:

+see also, grilled cheese v. taco (2007):