Well here I am. I told you I couldn’t quit you. I don’t want to make the gay cowboy joke, because I actually was really profoundly affected by that movie? I’m also physically incapable of not watching it when it comes on tv. I could have plans with like, the president, and as I’m walking out the door I’d hear that soundtrack (you know, that twangy guitar, like…der nener ner ner NER…..ner….de nerner.) and I’d have to call him up and be like “Listen, Mr President, Jake Gyllenhaal and Heath Ledger love each other and they can’t ever be together!!!!!!!” I am pretty sure he would understand.
Anyway. These pictures are from my camera phone, because I left my big camera at home, because I was packed to the gills with clothes I haven’t been able to wear yet because they are normal person clothes and I currently live on the set of Kevin Costner’s Waterworld. San Francisco and I are really similar in that we don’t know how to take compliments. We need to prove the complimenter wrong when we receive one. I spent my entire week in New York being like, but I just LOVE San Francisco, it’s so LOVELY. And I come back and San Francisco is all, hey I heard you say I was lovely and I can’t handle that so I’m going to rain for 2 weeks and be super depressing about it and then won’t you feel stupid about saying how lovely I am!!!!!! Like when someone compliments me on my hair and I’m like, oh thanks, it’s disgusting because I didn’t brush it today or take a shower and I smell and I don’t give any money to charity. And the person is like, okaay, this person should not be spoken to.
The other night my friend R was visiting from Colorado. He brought over some beers and we were having a serious chat about our respective romantic situations (he: very much in love in a fully mature and functional relationship, me: what was the name of that dude I made out with in that bar a few weeks ago?????????) and I had just finished saying something very emotional-ish (in a too-much-beer-y sorta way), and when it was his turn to respond he tries to start out all serious. He’s like, well, you know, I think….and then he just looks at me and is like….I’m sorry, is there goat cheese in your hair?
Well. You know. There was. A big blob of it right at the crown. I went to the mirror and removed it and then we all had shock heart attacks over the fact that I’m still single.
Also what I wanted to talk about is the degree of my hatred of grating carrots. I compiled a short list of the things I’d rather do with carrots than grate them:
1) Take them to the dentist with me and request no novocaine and allow them to be poked into my open nerve endings as I get a cavity filled.
2) Allow them to speak to me earnestly for over 2 hours about 1. religion 2. politics 3. having babies. And I’m not allowed to interrupt or be snarky.
3) Cut them into the thinnest slices possible and then slice those slices into matchsticks and then chop the matchsticks until they are grated-carrot size (which is what I did for this recipe).
If you decide to make it, you should probably just grate the carrot. But then, you are probably a significantly less insufferable person than I am. I mean, I hope. For your sake.
Oh yeah I made this recipe up based on something I saw in the grocery store but did not want to pay $5.99 for. I think my version is probably inferior, but that’s because I have low self esteem.
Curried Quinoa Salad
1 cup quinoa, rinsed
2 cups water
2 stalks celery, chopped fine
3 green onions, chopped fine
small handful of raisins, currants, or golden raisins (or ALL 3, which i recommend for realios)
small handful toasted walnut pieces
half a bunch of parsley, chopped
1 carrot, grated
1/2 cup peas (i use frozen)
1 tbsp soy sauce
1/2 tsp curry powder
1/2 tsp cumin
1/4 tsp turmeric
Boil the quinoa and water, then reduce heat to low, cover, and simmer 10-15 minutes. With 2 minutes to go, throw in the peas and the raisins/currants. After the quinoa is cooked, add the soy sauce and spices and stir. Stir in the celery, onions, walnuts, parsley, and carrots. Eat!