It’s grey in Seattle. And chilly. I’m sitting here in my office, contemplating grabbing a sweater. For the record, I’m already wearing jeans and a t-shirt. But it’s in the high sixties in here, and I have goosebumps. It’s out of sheer stubbornness that I don’t grab a cardigan, because it is July, and that…
– I’m such a sucker for old things. Whether it be grey-haired octogenarians or day-old pastries, I find myself smitten. Sure, they’re sometimes a bit crustier than you’d like them to be, and you can’t help but think of what they were like when fresh, but they’re still fun to nibble on. AND THAT GOES DOUBLE…
– 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…
I know it’s not technically Friday, but I’m hungry and thinking about food right now, so time means nothing to me. – There are statements I never thought I’d say. But after enough travel, I’ve started saying them. To a maintenance man in a New York city hotel: “Oh no, I’m happy to plunge my…
Tales of Food, Feminism, and Fury
by Geraldine DeRuiter
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