Wednesday
Oct262005
Doritos for Dinner
Had Doritos for dinner. Oh! And a king size Reeces Peanut Butter Cups. Two cups has never really been enough for me and I found that four did the trick nicely. I tend to eat in a less than healthy manner when The Surge is on tour. He likes to cook dinner and in his absence I'm finding it hard to jump back into the groove of being single. Strange how after a year of being together I've completely morfed into a Married. I was the singlest Singleton I know before I met The Surge. And a healthy one at that."What's that you're eating?" My roommate Jensen would ask.
"Tuna fish."
"But right outta the can?"
"A dash of mustard and it's a fantastic meal."
Now it's more like;
"What's that you're eating there?"
"Raw cookie dough and microwave popcorn."
"Don't spoil your dinner."
"This IS dinner."
The Surge will be on the road for most of the rest of this year. While I was looking forward to lazy days watching shit T.V. and spooning cookie dough straight from the tube, I am finding I miss the structure he imposed on my life. Ironic eh? He's the one in the rock band yet I'm the one that sleeps until noon if you let me, growls at anyone suggesting I go to the gym and eats all manner of ungodly processed food for dinner.
So, I'm working on this story called The Click By. It's quite unnverving for me to go public with this. But after chatting with those aware i.e. The Surge, Mom and Natty I've decided it's the best thing to do to put a period on all the bullshit. I've been playing a game of cat & mouse with the person involved for some time now. I tried to be her friend initially and somehow it morphed into weird hi-tech hijinx. I did something I'm ashamed of and now the chess game continues. I'm not 100% sure she knows it's me so I keep going back, trying to see if she figured out. If she wasn't sure before, she's damn sure now. Really I'm tired of the whole business. The pretend anonymity of the internet, and the games people play.
Remember the good ol' days when you could simply call your fella to see if he was home, then hang up when he answered? *69 screwed us first, and then that goddamn caller ID. Of course, caller ID has saved me, a screener of epic proportions, from answering legions of unwanted calls. But still. And now the internet. The cloak of anonymity brings out the strange side of folks, me included. Which is part of the reason I started this blog - I am far from anonymous. Anything I post on the internet I post under TheGirlWho, saltysaint, or Monica Bielanko. Except for the one time - which is what The Click By is about. I'm coming clean Jane. What'dya think? You'll laugh at my lunacy, maybe? Hate me forever? Ah well. It can't be changed now, can it? Perhaps you'll be pleased that I was obviously trying to rain on your parade, which could be attributed to jealousy? I don't exactly know.
So. I'm putting up a good fight against the cold that's doing its' best to invade my system. Must dash now. Am meeting my friend Kate, she of The Shalitas fame, because I've been asked to write a bio for the girls. They're on the brink of releasing their first album. Can't hardly wait!
Food
Reader Comments (17)
I've heard it said that winning an argument on the internet is like winning at the special olympics - yeah, you won, but you're still a cripple
personally I'd describe it as a "dry wank" - too much time and effort for something that just doesnt satisfy
My boyfriend lives in London and I live in New York and I swear sometimes I don't know which life is more read, with him or without. In my own company and apartment, I often let things slip (lots of wine and cheese and nary a vegetable) but in other ways, like with writing, I take better care of myself. Who knows?
You might find that whatever your secret is, you aren't the only one who has done it!
Jen
Muffin: Used to describe the unattractive effect achieved when a girl wears pants that are too low cut and too tight. This creates a bulge of fat around the hip and stomach area, resembling the top of a muffin that rises above its metal container the way a bare tummy can overhang a belt.
MF