Whenever people recognize me in real life (which isn’t terribly often – the one who is almost always spotted is Rand, and from there they are able to conclude that the loyal hobbit by his side is me), they often stare blankly before asking, “Why are you here?” I find this charming. It’s fun to…
Dear Spain, I like you. I truly do. You’re like Italy, but less mafioso-y. I begrudgingly appreciate how entire cities will shut down so that people can take naps. It’s absolute bullshit, and really annoying for tourists, but y’all are like, “FUCK IT! It’s 1pm. Let’s eat paella for 3 hours.” It’s hard not to…
The proprietor stands behind the counter, eyeing us warily. “How many do you want?” he asks. Lisa and I look at each other. “Maybe twenty?” she offers tentatively.
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…
A few weeks ago, I wrote a post addressed to Nestlé about Raisinets. I never directly contacted the company about their crimes against candy. I simply blogged about it, screaming into the ether of the internet like any good lunatic would do. I did not expect Nestlé to actually see my letter. I certainly did not…
“I’m kinda hungry.” “CHERRIES.”
Tales of Food, Feminism, and Fury
by Geraldine DeRuiter
Available Now!
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