It doesn’t matter what kind of rice you use, as long as it’s a day old. You can get away with two, but never more than that. Chop some garlic and fry it in some fat. Pretty much everything flies except for olive oil maybe, the flavor is too strong. This morning, I ran out of oil, so I used chicken fat. Yes, I have chicken fat. Once the garlic is cooked and smelling fragrant, add the rice and simmer until done. Serve with a fried egg. There’s something weird about leftovers being more delicious than the prepared meal itself.
Archive for the ‘by Lara’ Category
A few cliches, after all it’s Valentine’s day
but first a review:
Past dates have included
sneaking into movies,
picnics by the beach,
winding trips to wine country.
Today was adventurous in its own right
A lovely morning
late, by design
with a more causal exchange of vows
(not pictured here)
and an equally casual
review of momentous occasions
The eighth or the first
we don’t care for semantics
only for moments
and this one rose to the occasion
Now on to some tea and toast
and I’m now imagining
how we’ll be doing this
like we promised
Some ideas for getting out of bed in the morning, in no particular order
1) Timed bacon fryer
2) Timed coffee maker
3) An alarm clock you have to chase around the room to turn off
4) A bucket of water hanging above your bed that splashes you if you don’t get up within ten seconds of your alarm
5) Going to sleep at 6PM
6) Your boss’s voice yelling at you about what’s due today
7) A new item delivered to your doorstep but expires after 5 minutes
8) Your bed flips over and deposits you onto the floor
I’m sitting at the bar waiting for my friends to arrive, which is a predicament I often find myself in — sometimes up to 45 minutes early for a meet up. I’m always a little anxious as a single woman alone at a bar. I’m not looking to get hit on, but I also don’t want to be a nerdy loser looking at email on my phone. I settle for something in between, open for conversation, usually with bartender, but phone on table just in case. The man to my left is playing solitaire on his iPad. I order a beer.
Your brain has been on vacation for approximately thirty-seven days. Welcome back to the real world, sir. Can’t say we’ve missed you. We miss no one, and sources tell me no one misses us, either (those that would never actually leave). You’ll have a seven day grace period, after which, it will no longer be acceptable to walk around with the facial expression equivalent of a satiated squirrel. Don’t worry, it’s not as bad as it sounds. On average, it takes seventeen days for your brain to return to normal levels. If you experience a delay, we’ll let you know.
I’m not religious, so I’m definitely not one for a mealtime prayer, but I in light of recent events, I have decided to say thank you to my steadfast digestive system, the organ that has taken whatever I’ve decided to stuff down it without complaint or really even a gurgle. Fried food, pints upon pints of beer, shots of whisky, spicy concoctions made in a dingy food cart at 2am. I salute you, GI tract, for bearing with me this long. It doesn’t mean I’ll stop eating those things, but in saying thank you, I might at least think twice.
He eats teeth for breakfast.
He crunches them up, teeth on teeth. The sound is not not reminiscent of my daughter, 10-years-old and almost braces-free, eating her cereal every morning before school. Stale cocoa puffs on milk on metal.
“Most go for the young ones, but I know better. The older ones are softer, more pliable.”
I’m afraid, obviously. But the feeling fades and is replaced by urgency. It’s a rollercoaster of terror’s panic and survival’s adrenaline. I’m wondering how long I can keep this up before I pass out.
Focus, I think. Cocoa puffs on milk on metal.
Things I like to do when I’m home alone:
Watch my guilty pleasures television shows in bed (invariably with atrocious posture) preferably at the same time as playing some sort of game on my phone such as tetris.
Blast some of my less trendy music choices while I try to slice cucumber pieces as thinly as possible.
Get lost in the wormhole that is the internet. Frequently browsed topics include a capella performances, restauranteurs, recipes, and obviously Facebook stalking.
Light candles, draw myself a bath, pour myself a glass of wine, and prepare a chicken apple sausage on a fork.
God I sound like a pretentious douchebag. No one cares about that shit? Oh great, you worked with a
bigwig at that place back when it mattered? Great! You still suck. Ugh. Okay, let’s be less critical about this.
You suck, you know that? You really do. This is seriously the most cliched piece of shit that will ever
land on the admissions’ person’s desk.
Stop writing about your grandmother.
Okay, you need adversity. Like you’ve faced adversity. Wah wah wah. Stop whining, asshole.
Maybe switching to writing by hand will be less judgmental.
“What was that for!”
It’s weird how much soft skin can still sting when you come into contact with it like that. I didn’t say anything. I felt like I should apologize, but I felt like I might vomit if I did. She was still standing there with a shocked and hurt expression on her face. People turned their heads to watch us as they piled into the further morass of the club that is what we do at night.
There was so much that that was for, I wanted to say. Instead,
“Sorry, I was being passive aggressive.”