Note: This post is obviously unsponsored, because no one from M&M’s would pay me to say the things that I said. One of the great things about having friends (besides being the antidote for the crushing loneliness that encapsulated your late teens) is that you can make them eat things in the name of science.…
When I was a junior and senior in high school, I ate fast food nearly every single day for lunch. I can rarely recall an exception to this, because apparently processed fats make the inside of your brain too greasy for memories to stick to them, but I have a sneaking suspicion there were at least…
As a lifelong pumpkin aficionado, I have a special place in my heart for the baccanalian gourd-fuckfest that is fall. From the end of September until Thanksgiving, I ingest so many orange-hued treats that my farts smell of cinnamon and nutmeg (“They do not.” – my husband, pumpkin hater and fart snob). I remain, for…
There is a banging noise coming from the courtyard outside, and the sky above London is grey. It all feels familiar, the early morning sounds and sights of a city I’ve come to know. We have friends here, we have favorite restaurants and shops; we’ve even stayed in this strange little hotel before, with its…
“I’m kinda hungry.” “CHERRIES.”
Dear Nestlé Corporation, I am writing to you on behalf of my husband, Rand, even though he has disavowed any knowledge of this letter, and refuses to be held accountable for ‘the shit that I do when I am bored.’ But I am certain that he would agree with everything I am about to say. Rand is…
Recently, I went pseudo Paleo. I say pseudo, because, like most things in my life, I’ve jumped in headfirst without putting any thought or research into it (this is also how I ended up taking a workout class called “Insanity.” Afterwards, I was drooling and delirious. So I guess it delivered). So, despite being totally…
When people learn of my vast and all-consuming love of sweets, they are often surprised to learn that dessert was largely absent from my childhood. My mother is not a baker, nor a lover of sweet things. There was, on occasion, a box or two of Pepperidge Farm Milano Cookies in the cabinet, but these…
I’ve never been one to have much restraint when it comes to sweets, especially when I can eat them in the name of “research.” “It burns more calories this way,” I will say to Rand, my mouth full of fried dough. He has learned, over the years, not to challenge this assertion. The Spanish,…
