I know you think I'm all that. It's sweet, really. That look you get on your face; all googly-eyed. I can tell you're hot for me. Or constipated.
But you don't really know me.
You've probably figured out that doing the non-meat dealio, I eat tofu and gluten and all manner of weirdness including such loveliness as Tofurkey Jerky. Mmmm.
Still want to snuggle? Let's keep going...
I will contentedly eat mashed potatoes made from potato flakes.
Yup. Still feeling all oo-eey gooey? Okay...
I will eat canned corn. Cold. Right out of the can.
Yeah, I see that twitch.
I will eat canned peas, cold, right out of the can. You know those mushy, canned English peas with the weird tinny, sweet-vomit smell? Thaaaaat's right. Not even the fancy Le Sueur type.
Mm-hm. Now, you're taking your hand off my butt.
I will eat plain sour cream with potato chips. Or without potato chips. By. The. Spoonful.
I see you inching away.
Chinese food? Much better cold.
Shall I go on?
Better yet: What do you eat that is perhaps, shall we say, less than gourmet?*
* Food, people. FOOD.
When I was a kid, my Mum would slice a lemon in half, pour sugar on a plate and give it to me. I'd dip the lemon half in the sugar and lick it. This was a treat. The original sweet-tart.
I still love really tart/tangy lemonade: lots of lemon with simple syrup and water, but I have a hard time imagining sitting down with a plate of sugar and half a lemon and going to town at this point in my life. It sounds like a strange thing for Mum to do but I have to believe it was probably better for me than the Pixy Stix and the Wax Bottles and the Zotz and all the other candies I happily ingested as a child.
[Anybody remember this candy? I always wound up peeling bits of paper off the back of the buttons. And I don't remember it coming wrapped in cellophane--just sort of dusted with cornstarch. At least, I want to believe it was cornstarch.]
I don't know anyone else who ever dipped lemon in sugar and licked it. I know people that sucked lemons through peppermint stick candy, but that's as close as I've gotten. Of course, I never put my question out to the interwebs before.
Have you ever dipped lemon in sugar and licked it? Did you enjoy strange treats as a wee bairn that you (probably) wouldn't eat today?
Why is it that a can of congealed re-fried beans looks and smells suspiciously like a can of dog food?
Maybe it's the way the bean mixture takes the shape of the can (every bit as much as cranberry sauce). Maybe it's the range of colors and textures within the can-shaped mass. (Note: the picture above is a stock Interwebs photo. I'm so sorry I didn't photograph last night's can o' beans because it was much more varied in color and texture within the can-shaped mass than this. I feel like I have failed you. If only there was some way to make it up to you. Hm... Would you like it if I--hey, there's no reason to get huffy. Dang it! That last time was not my fault. Who knew you had an emu allergy? By the way, I think you hurt it's feelings.)
And why does dog food not smell as bad as cat food?
These are the questions that try my soul.
I'lltellyawhut, though, those beans sure do taste good once they're heated and stirred. Then, they resemble the dog food once the dog is done with it.
For you: celery rose.
How many people would create a celery rose and take a picture of it for you?
One.
Me.
For you.
Because that's what life is. Unexpectedly beautiful. And crunchy. And sometimes the strings get caught in your teeth.
I was going to write a post about how I don't like egg white and I was going to do this because, well, let's face it, you and I have known each other a while now and I figure we've reached that level of bonding. I understand about expectations and I don't want you to feel like I'm holding out on you.*
But then I got to thinking about how people love to talk about what foods they hate and isn't that sort of strange and, well, I reconsidered.
Why do you want to hear about my egg white aversion?** I'm thinking you really don't want to hear about my egg white aversion.
I'm thinking you also don't want to hear your Uncle Morty talking about how he "likes onions but they don't like him." Or your cousin Delilah saying "I wish I liked salad more because I know it's good for me but I just don't."
What's the point of all that? At best, you find someone with the same food hang-ups as you. "You hate milk?! I hate milk!!"*** And then you do your happy milk-hating dance together.****
So... I'm not going to talk about my egg white issues.
That's healthy, right?
I'm just not.
No.
It's not like I need to.
Uh-uh.
*sweating*
Unless you really want me to.
If you really want to know, do nothing. That'll be our secret signal.
Huh!
Well, I stand corrected! It's amazing how well we communicate!
Okay, then, in brief:
It's the rubbery texture that makes me all squeebee.*****
* Who says I'm cold and unsharing? Just don't eye my Pecan Twirls.
** This has nothing to do with the aversion but, let's face it, I'm all about the tenuous tangent and this one is at least about eggs. Several years ago, I was over a relative's house for dinner and she asked me to carry in a tray of deviled eggs. I did, but as I got to the table, I, and the tray, stopped moving, but the eggs, slippery suckers, kept going. Pity there was no America's Funniest Home Videos slide whistle sound effect to accompany the arc of the eggs as they went flying off the tray. I was particularly pleased that one deviled egg did a beautiful swan dive into a tall glass of soda. *Sploosh!* ... Wah, wahhh.
*** Yeah, I actually do hate milk. You, too?! OMG!
**** Because I have complete faith in the Interwebs, I searched Google images for "milk hating dance". Hey, you never know. It gave me images for each of these words but not the combination. I think Google should create a mash-up of images for you if it can't actually find the combination you're seeking.
***** All right, your turn.
