tomorrow cannot be nigh fast enough

Sometimes letting go feels like diving in. I fry these three small quail eggs and put them on top of beans and cheese. I'm saving up for the zen garden in neko atsume. Every day I make a detailed list of all the ways money leaves me. I look at a 4" x 6" scale drawing of my new apartment for fifty-eight minutes every day while I'm at work. I make lists of my belongings. I draw different ways of arranging my plants in front of their new windows. I look at blue velvet chaise lounges on the internet. I argue with the UPS customer service representative for not delivering my package on time. I get my money back. I talk to my mom on the phone twice a week. I put lavender oil on my wrists and neck. I read about the cellular make up of plant stems. I think about making out with boys in elevators and European squares and in my kitchen. I want tomorrow so badly to deliver me to May.

oh boy oh boy oh boy

are these three things the meaning of life? let's hope so.

DON'T PANIC CHICKEN

Making the decision to consciously take in more protein on a daily basis is one of the most important decisions a young lady can make, and the chicken is a beautiful way to sustain a protein habit for many days indeed. Perhaps you have a growing insecurity because of a gushing financial bleed, or maybe you have a yearning to galavant around town with friends 700 miles away; no matter the force that calls you, a chicken serves as a marvelous companion in times of self doubt.

this week on Otter Royals: apple tart again and again until you get a job it right

fuck bath product stores
fuck establishments of higher education
fuck property management companies
fuck actuarial recruiters
fuck italian hair salons
fuck e-commerce marketplaces

and fuck doctors and fuck street photographers

fuck carpenter/bartenders and fuck bass players

because one day you'll look back on all of this and laugh HAHAHAHAhahahahaHAHAHAhahah it's so fucking funny!

living well: how to somehow wind up at the after party of your high school reunion

1. Drive back from Philadelphia with your dad who roped you into going to the wedding of the daughter of one of his racquetball buddies, conveniently allowing you to miss the proper reunion.
2. Receive a text from your oldest friend, she tells you to come into town and say hi.
3. Arrive at exactly midnight. As you walk down the street bump into another old friend who you went to prom with, but who you didn't dance with at the time, because he was hooking up with another boy's girlfriend and kind of grinding up on her the whole night, but who also you made out with sort of recently. Bump into him, and another girl from high school that you never knew at all. Then you can walk together down the street to another place where more people you used to know are.
4. Find your oldest friend smoking outside of the bar with more boys that all hold you in kind of a high regard. Exchange weird elbow high fives, and bum a cigarette, and experience time travel.
5. Wait in line for the bathroom. The boy who loved you in high school, who was also your dear close friend in high school and beyond for a while, who you fooled around with a couple of times sort of recently, comes out of the men's room and you are so relieved to see him and you hug, but then he doesn't really talk to you the rest of the night which is sad, but you get it, sort of.
6. Most parties were at Ben's house in high school. Tonight he has a hotel room for some reason, and everyone goes there, so you go too.
7. Looking at an old photo album that Ben brought, the boys discuss whether or not Michelle's boobs were/are big. The boy who is kind of not paying attention to you, sees a photo of a popular girl and declares how badly he wanted to fuck her back in the day. Your prom date and the girl are kind of making out on the floor, her hand resting on the inseams of his pants. Remember that you are not the right kind of pretty.
8. Look at a picture of you with your ex-boyfriend with his ex-girlfriend from before you were in a relationship with him and the three of you were all friends.
9. Realize that you are at this moment in this hotel room, the exact same person as you were when when you were in Ben's basement in 2005. Silently judging some drunk girl crawling around on the floor. Hearing and laughing at everyone's little jokes so they know you're paying attention. Wanting to be equal to the boys. Wanting to fuck the boys. Pretending you didn't want to fuck them. Knowing how it would all end if you stayed up drinking with these people in this hotel room.
10. You weren't that great at high school and you're not that great at life, but after ten years you know when it's time to go home.

everything I eat is beige, or at least like a yellow earth tone, or in the spectrum of orange

lefovert olio y olio past and salm! cokked this one with spicy peps and garlic.

this tart is da BOMB. I got it from Ina. Use a mandollin otherwise be careful you'll lose some fings.

mac and shizzay ya'LLLLlllll. This is Amy Sedaris's rescipe and it comes with a disclaimer so make sure your ticker is tip top or steer cleer.

you can't see it but what this is is an egg on some zucchini bread. it was OK.

olio y olio past you guys! this is also shown earlier as leftoverz. so lez see. boyl the noods. cook down some garlic in O'liv oilz and then add some hot peppies. dont let the garlic burn, just ligtly gold, and then add in some starchy wa wa from the noodlerz. cook down a few minnies. add the past. add parm. salzzzzzz. it's so effing good, perf midnight snackadoo.

it's poppin corns is back! this time I put some hot peppies in the hunk o butterz. seazun with gahlic salZ. kinda the popcorn ver-z-ee-own of that pASHstaaaaaaaa. delish-o-mundo rundo.

<3 omelettes <3
Poca uova gran fiamma seconda. – Dante

Sonnet 65:

Since shellsters, nor yolks, nor whities, nor boundless hen
But sad mortality o’er-sways hunk o' butters,
How with this rage shall beauty hold an eggo,
Whose action is no stronger than a whisk?
O, how shall summer’s huevito breath hold out
Against the wrackful siege of cracklin' eggos,
When rocks impregnable are not so stout,
Nor gates of steel so strong, but time decays?
O fearful meditation! where, alack,
Shall time’s best yolk from time’s shell lie hid?
Or what strong eggy can hold his swift scrambly back?
Or who his silk of eggos can forbid?
O, none, unless this miracle have might,
That in sunny yolk my love may still shine bright.