Painfully Enamored With Food: Onions: The Daredevil Game

There is a comic book.

A comic book called Daredevil.

A comic book about a sweetass blind attorney who does cool shit by day, is like, a ninja or whatever by night. This is a worthwhile comic book.

Unfortunately, it was adapted into a movie that I fall asleep when I try to watch it. Do not watch the Ben Affleck movie. Watch a different Ben Affleck movie instead. My phone's spell check knows how "Affleck" is spelled. Weird.

Better yet, instead of watching Daredevil, OR ANY OTHER BEN AFFLECK MOVIE, if you want to see a death-defying attorney walk around with sunglasses and a cane, watch the end of the third season of Battlestar Galactica. There's an attorney character who wears sunglasses and carries a cane, and while he's not blind, or a ninja, or any such Daredevil-themed things, he brings a cat to a job interview, and then says at the interview "If it's any consolation, I hate this cat as much as you hate having to hire me" BEFORE ANYBODY HAD HIRED HIM.

Pretty sure that's the quote. I might be paraphrasing. I don't care. It was badass, is what I'm saying, and my favorite moment in television history. If I was even 15% as cool as that scene, this blog would...um...well...okay, so I'm not cool enough to know what this blog would be like if I was cooler, because I lack the perspective. But it would be pretty freakin' cool.

But this was a digression. I'm here to talk about some goddamned onions.

Anyway!!!

I mention Daredevil because when I leave my nest of cat hair, weird jackets, shameless curiosity about human behavior, sketchy-looking found objects, and psychology textbooks (STOP TALKING ABOUT BATTLESTAR GALACTICA, WE'VE ALREADY CHANGED SUBJECTS) to chop onions...well?

As a ginger, I "have" to wear mascara. I really do. It ties my face together, dude.

As someone sensitive to onions, oh no I don't have to wear mascara.

EVERY TIME, my eyes sting, then they melt and start to run down my face, then the paint on my eyelashes melts into my eyes, and then my eyes sting even more (holy fuck, it's awful), and then next thing you know, I have to find my way from the kitchen to the bathroom with my eyes squeezed shut to rinse my eyes and scrub them with a clean, wet washcloth.

I made two meat pies yesterday, using only one onion (ONLY ONE GIGANTIC ONION!!!!!), and I walked to my bathroom sink three times (THREE TIMES!!!!!) with my eyes shut. I've gotten really pretty quite fairly good at this, I should say.

The first time, I tracked my location using the bottoms of my feet, because there are a series of rugs between the kitchen and the bathroom. I call it cheating to use my hands for data when I'm crossing the house sightlessly, like I call it cheating to use notes when doing sudoku. Shut up. That's not pretentious. I scrambled to the sink, I washed my hands, and then I washed my face furiously. Oh God, my eyes. My eyes!!!!!

I returned to the onion, and got through another third of it. Two thirds down!!!!! But again, holy fuck my eyes sting when I'm around raw, chopped onions. This time I paid attention to what little light I could see through my clamped-shut, horrorshow eyelids. I know where my lamps are, and could guess my location that way. It's cheating--Daredevil is a thousand times better at this--but it did the job, and it was actually pretty interesting to experience my house that way.

Triumphant from a truly epic eye washing session, I resumed chopping the onion and was able to finish the job before my third eye-washing.

The third eye-washing sightless walk to the bathroom sink was the best. Not only did I finally get closure on the whole onion problem--not a small gain!--but Greg The Cat (one of my two cats) was standing on the living room table. When I walked by, Greg smashed his face in my hand, and followed me back to the bathroom sink/makeshift eyewash station. Thanks to this Greg intervention, I was able to avoid bonking my leg into the table.

And the onions...were completed!