Even green beans can't save you now!!!

I know that this blog looks a "certain way."

It implies that I hold myself to a strict dietary regimen of biodegradable packing peanuts and astronaut foods, with an occasional gourmet toothpaste for desert.

And it would be right.

(I mean, prove me wrong! Are YOU watching me eat all the time?!? Even my husband doesn't do that.)

However, sometimes it's important to eat a huge quantity of actual food all in one sitting, so that the next two days of all-candy feel justified. Something dark green, because that's where the vitamins live.

MOREOVER, sometimes it's important to try to lose another 15 vanity pounds, to prepare for a summer's worth of nerd conventions. Gotta start now, while it's barely springtime!!!

(Jealous moment of jealousy, being jealous of the women whose bone structure lets them carry whatever BMI they want, without losing their facial symmetry or nice jawline. But I am what I am, and I do what I do with what I can, regarding what I am.)

And so, in the spirit of vitamin deficiency and halfhearted vanity that I bring to you... GREEN BEANS!!!

Everybody knows that frozen vegetables are more nutrient-dense than their room-temperature grocery store counterparts, because they're picked and Han Soloed when they're actually ripe, not when they're underripe and travel-ready.

I also like frozen vegetables because I don't have to remember what day it is. I don't have to remember when I purchased them. I don't EVEN have to remember to wash them! (Is this correct?)

So, here's what I do with frozen green beans:

1. Fill a pot with water, add a generous amount of salt and a good drizzle of the cooking oil of your choice, and get that to boiling on the stovetop. Like you do with pasta!

2. Once it's boiling, throw all the frozen green beans that you want in there, as long as there's enough water to make it work. Like you do with pasta!

3. Wait for everything to resume boiling, like you'd do with pasta.

4. Boil the green beans for around 8-11 minutes, or whatever, also like you'd do with pasta.

5. In a manner identical to handling pasta, you drain that stuff through a colander, and figure out what you want to do next.

...

Lately, I've been keeping the water both salty and greasy enough that the green beans are downright alright as-is, once they've been drained and have also cooled enough to eat.

But if you skimped on the salt or oil, go for it now!!! Add some butter, add some spices, do whatever it is that you do.

Today, I tossed in some slivered almonds. Just like that! It's that easy! It really is. You just own some almonds and then you eat them, it's true. And you can too! Unless you are allergic. In which case, don't do that. Don't do things that you are allergic to. Please.

Anyway

I made the food, then I ate it, and then I resumed getting ready for work.

EXCELLENT!!!

I'm Eating Packing Peanuts

God-fucking-dammit. Really?!?

Fuck.

REALLY?!?!?!

So, I ordered something online, and it was from a really cool little eco-friendly-type company.

And when I was opening and unpacking the box, there were a few packing peanuts. So, of course, I put one in my mouth while reviewing the shipping invoice. I was curious! What do YOU do, anyway?!? Who are YOU to pass judgment?!? That's right. I'll bet you've done worse, whoever you are, who's reading this.

Anyway!

It started to release a mild Cheetos flavor as it dissolved. (Something like that.) And I was like, "Well, fuck. These most be those biodegradable potato starch packing peanuts. Let's see how far I can go with this experiment."

So, I finished eating that packing peanut. The second one I ate, I ate because I'd already had one, so I might as well eat another. I mean, they're not BAD. The third, fourth, fifth... ah, hell, I've lost track at this point. I'm nibbling on one as I type this.

I KNOW that they can't possibly be food-grade. They just CAN'T.

God.

Fuck!!!

What am I doing?!?!?

Suck it, juice!

I know what you might be thinking. That the expression "suck it," when used in a taunting or otherwise derogatory capacity, is subliminally anti-female, as well as subliminally homophobic, because it implies that performing fellatio is exclusively the domain of those who are trapped within a gender-based second-class citizenship.

And yes, if you want to take all of the intended innocence out of the taunt written into the title of this blog post, then I must acknowledge that your point is correct. Moreover, I must now apologize to everyone--including myself--who was, or who will be, in one way or another, born into a category of "well, you don't want to be THAT guy" butt-of-cruel-jokesmanship.

(I say this as someone who was once the lone girl at middle school baseball camp, whom coaches and colleagues alike would joke "out of earshot" about, by accusing one another of throwing, not merely like A girl, but indeed, of throwing like THE girl. I won the most improved player award that year, and brought two more middle school girls with me the next year. And not just ANY sort of middle school girls. The sort of sassy, giggling, sports-ambivalent "don't give a fuck" kind of middle school girls who just made everybody feel a little weird about baseball camp, in general. Because I could.)

Still.

Before we get into any Hillary Clinton-themed quoteables about NASA, I want to try to steal a little moment, to adopt a tone of childlike ignorance. The sort of "the world is kinda safe" naïveté needed to use whatever language might pop into my head, without making any real effort to apply critical thinking skills, or even basic adult courtesy, to the situation which I have decided to describe.

And it is with this "safe space to express myself" approach, and self-permission to indulge in lowered boundaries, which prompts me to easily and blithely write the following:

FUCK YEAH, STUPID!!! WHO'S TOO EXPENSIVE, NOW!!! Juice? You think I can afford fruit juice? Fruit juice that either comes in boxes too tiny to be affordable, or frozen tubes that require me to fit a carafe into my fridge like some fucking mathemagician. FUCK NO!!! Not medium-sized bottles of fruit juice, that require figuring out which objects in my yard are the recycle bin. Fruit juice is too much of a hassle.

And it is too fatty. Yeah, there's no fat in it. What's up with that, man?

But it is still full of sugar. That's sugar that could be spent on CANDY!!! I could be eating candy RIGHT NOW!!!!! I might!!! I might just do that!!! Because I keep candy around!!! Because I have a JOB!!! And that is the kind of proactive, assertive living that a steady income can provide. The finer things in life, like always having a fresh stash of bitchin' candy. Yeah, that's right, fruit juice. Taking my money. Not today. Not now. It's whatever the opposite of payback is, time. It's no-payment time. Wallet got left at home accidentally, oh God I hope, time.

Now, fruit juice is one of my husband's favorites, but when I pick it up at the store, I look at it with the same mistrust that I give... um... huh... yeah... sliced cheese? Theme yogurt? Quality ingredients? Foods that are still too fresh for the bargain shelf? I CANNOT SPEND MY CANDY MONEY ON SUCH EXTRAVAGANCES!!!!!!

So.

So what do I do?

I buy some shelf-stable, fruit-inspired, crystallized water-alteration powder. And I buy it for mothafuckin astronauts. How do I eat my ice cream? ASTRONAUT ICE CREAM!!!!! How do I try to transition out of buying real fruit juice so often? I BUY TANG AND DRINK TANG AND WAIT FOR MY HUSBAND TO STEAL MY GLASS OF TANG EVEN THOUGH HE ORIGINALLY SAID THAT HE WAS JUST FINE WITH BEER!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!

SPACE TRAVEL!!!!!!!!! GAAAAAAAAARRRRHHHHHHHHHBBBBBBTTTTTTHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHH!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!

Blurry phone photo, featuring a gorgeously retro washing machine dial.

Why does the positioning of my hand imply that I'm shorter than the washing machine? For that matter, why AM I shorter than the washing machine? Those weren't special effects. No camera tricks here. It is a monolithic tower of soap and garment rehabilitation.

Right. Always right. Always right, over here.