My head is a little scattered right now. I just unfriended a young man on Facebook who I’ve known since high school. He was always a fun guy – clever and hilarious and really a joy to be around. I unfriended him because a comment of his on one of my posts left me so…
“Um, do you feel anything?” “I feel my boogers drying up.” “This feels weird.” “Yeah.”
Dear Rand, You know what today is, right? Yeah. Holy shit. Sorry. I know cussing is only for special occasions like the Superbowl and visiting your family. But still. HOLY SHIT, RAND. I think we might need to count them, to make sure it’s actually true.
The signs above grocery aisles are always amazing to me. Not only do they serve as a highlight reel for whatever is located in that aisle, but they also provide me a brief glimpse into whatever corner of the world I’m in. The items listed on those signs sustain the population of that area. These…
On occasion, I like to think of myself as a badass. I’m not, mind you, but I like to think of myself as one. I also like to think of myself as elegant, demure, clear-skinned, and clever. Compared to those far greater delusions “badass” doesn’t seem so unreasonable. Especially when it comes to food. A…
Rand thinks I’m overly superstitious. I, in turn, think that he’s constantly tempting fate into screwing with us. Take the following scenario, which happens at least once a month: Rand and I are driving to the airport. We are almost running late, but not quite. If we are able to keep up the miraculous average…
I forget that, during my travels, I occasionally hand other people my camera. I won’t realize it until after I’ve uploaded all my photos to Flickr. There will be a few snapshots in the stream that I didn’t know existed. Sometimes, they’re awful. And sometimes … – I generally hate surprises. Let’s be fair: they…
My first vehicle was a 1976 AMC Pacer. (Please try to control your jealousy.) Because the seat did not adjust properly, I needed to sit on a large pillow to see over the steering wheel (I am short). Because the breaks were not the strongest in the world, I had to stand on the brake…
Since my post last week about our life-threatening encounter with a moth the size of a pigeon* I’ve had a lot of people kindly inform me that moths cannot, in fact, bite. They keep pestering me with “facts” and “reality”. Ugh. The biggest argument as to why moths cannot bite is that they have nothing…
Tales of Food, Feminism, and Fury
by Geraldine DeRuiter
Available Now!
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