Currently viewing the tag: "Lean Cuisine"
Growing up I wore pink, but was always a “guy’s girl.” I may have played rugby for a couple seasons in college, but I also I owned a porcelain teapot and a set of matching demitasse. When I was 29 I traded in my kitchen set for a Lean Cuisine and a coffee table, and I never looked back. But I still own more than 30 pairs of heels and am every bit a lady–something that recently came into question after a conversation with my older cousin. He told me part of my “problem” [read: reason I'm single] is that I’m “too much of a dude.” I couldn’t believe it. I may have planned a date before. I may be direct on occasion. I may even be known to watch The Bounty Hunter from time to time–but that doesn’t make me a dude.
And you know how I know I’m a woman? I made a list.
- I take birth control pills. Because, you know, I have ovaries.
- I apologize for everything, even when it’s not my fault. I’m sorry, I can’t help it.
- I would never in a million years have the ingenuity or audacity to approach someone in a bar and say: “If I was a squirrel, and you were a tree, I’d climb into your hole and bust a nut.” My brain tries to think of a pickup line and misfires. My brain hears one, and shuts down.
- I wax my eyebrows, pluck my chin, and shave my legs. Then I spend hours wondering—if I have to spend this much time course-correcting nature, am I messing with evolution? What if there is another ice age, and we can’t find our tights. Our legs will freeze and we’ll all be fucked. This thought is so depressing that I eat half of a container of dark chocolate covered ginger from Trader Joe’s that I keep in the freezer for existential crises.
- I never order dessert. But I have no problem asking you for a bite of yours. And then eating all of it.
- My bed broke. The corner fell through the frame and now it sags. I don’t own tools, so I tried to fix it with a butter knife. I placed the butter knife under the box spring, hoping it would prop it up. It didn’t work, so now I have resigned to sleep downhill.
- I believe honesty is important. That’s why I grill each new boyfriend about his ex-girlfriends, and make him rate them on a “hot scale.”
- I spend $17 dollars on a manicure each week. Afterward I feel so guilty about this frivolous expense that I vow not to buy lunch for two days. But then I get hungry, so I spend $22 on Balance Bars to tide me over.
- I drink my coffee with heavy cream and Splenda. I order egg white omelettes with bacon.
- When someone insults me I yell “I DON’T GIVE DAMN!” Then I systematically call every girlfriend in my phone and talk about it for hours.
I provided this list to my cousin. He apologized to me profusely, so I said, “Don’t even worry about it. It’s no big deal.”
I’m so pissed.
Related Disasters:
After you’ve been single for a while, and the only reason you leave your apartment is to buy more Lean Cuisines, you start to realize just how significant your daily interactions become. Community is essential, something you can default to: a network of relationships that are effortless to maintain. The only requirement is that that you keep doing what you already do, and frequenting the places you normally visit. It’s really a beautiful thing.
For example, I’m pretty tight with my cashier at Walgreens. We say “what’s up” when I walk in. And, I have loads of friends at the gym–whenever I show up there they smile and say, “haven’t seen you in a while” when they swipe my card. The people at Intelligentsia know I take my iced coffee with ice without me even saying anything — just a little perk of being a good neighbor. And the homeless guy on the corner, we keep a watchful eye on one another: I keep tabs each time he falls off the wagon, and he gives me shamed looks when he sees me on my second ice cream cone of the day.
I may be single, but I’m not alone.
But my Boo is an entirely different relationship. Boo [Radley] is a transvestite who lives alone in my apartment building and never looks up. I can only assume this is an attempt to hide her ginormous Adam’s apple. She wears immaculate white Keds and has poofy black hair, which she sometimes covers with a felt hat.
I once tried to hold the front door for her when she was getting her mail from the mailbox. She just slowly turned her head sideways, looked at me with vacant brown eyes, and shook her head. I ran upstairs and locked the door.
This morning I saw Boo outside. There is something terrifying about bumping into her in closed spaces like the elevator, but there is something even scarier about seeing her in the wild. I could only assume she had left her apartment to kill someone, so I ducked around the corner and sped up to catch the #135.
As the bus opened its doors, I saw Boo turn the corner, with her chin tucked to her neck and her unmistakable shuffle. For the first time, I felt bad for the tranny. But then, she cackled in my direction, jammed her finger up her nose, and scampered down the alley.
Maybe we could be friends, after all.
Related Disasters:
I’ve been pretty quiet these days. I’ve been side-lined lately due to a sudden onset of Disasteritis. Turns out my diet (in particular my rejection of leafy greens) has caused me to become severely fatigued.
When my doctor called to tell me that my iron levels were a good 55 points below normal, I was shocked. “But that’s impossible!” I gasped, “I have at least 4 blue cheese-stuffed olives a week!”
Apparently that’s not enough. Which reluctantly has gotten me back in the kitchen. So, my dear Disasters, today I am bringing you yet another helpful recipe, that is quick, easy and chock-full of nutrients:
Lean Cuisine with Energy Boosts
Step 1 Purchase ingredients from local Walgreens:
You know your cuisine is lean, but is it packed with nutrients? Not yet!
Step 2
Gingerly add Vitamin C, Iron, Fish Oil and a tablet that says “Hair, Skin, Nails” (this is the holy trinity: if you have to skimp, do not skimp here).
Step 3 Cook on high heat for approximately 4 minutes and 30 seconds. Careful, it’s hot!
Step 4 Voila! You’re done. Let cool, turn on Jersey Shore, and serve with a martini.
Note: When I feel as though I’m steps away from scurvy, sometimes I add a secret ingredient–the extra 1-2 punch my body needs:
Drink for two, prenatal vitamins for one, that’s what I always say!
