Note: The steroids are still in my system, and consequently I am still talking about food. And Vegas. Bear with me, kids. – I am a 31-year-old woman of reasonable intelligence (even after my brain surgery, I feel this latter comment is safe to say). I would like to think that most of my tastes…
My favorite thing about travel is that you can often discover the most amazing meals in the most unexpected of places. And I don’t mean the discovery of a candied peanut at the bottom of my bag in a hotel room in Bulgaria. (For the record, Rand wouldn’t let me eat the peanut, which I…
For several days, there were staples in my head. I wish there were a more technical term for them, but there isn’t. They were not sutures or metallic head brackets or anything like that. These were good, old-fashioned, industrial-size staples, like the kind you’d find at the hardware store. Miraculously, I don’t remember most of…
– Friends, let me tell you something: steroids are terrible. Many of you are probably wondering why a perfect physical specimen such as myself would need to resort to steroids in the first place. After all, my body is temple (albeit one dedicated to sloth and cupcakes). The answer is, simply, brain surgery. Steroids are commonly given…
Brain surgery was not what I thought it would be. As ridiculous as it sounds, going into it, I convinced myself it wouldn’t be a big deal. I know, I know. How does one actually convince themselves that brain surgery isn’t that big a deal? I don’t rightly know, but believe me when I tell…
Tales of Food, Feminism, and Fury
by Geraldine DeRuiter
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