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In trying to come up with Something To Talk About today, I got into a conversation with the boyfriend that was funnier and more interesting than anything I wanted to rant about. Rather than forcing myself to write when I wasn’t feeling it, I decided to transcribe our behind-the-scenes shenanigans into the only format that made sense:

Spicy Thai Popcorn

So authentically Asian.

  • 1/2 cup popcorn kernels
  • 1 cup chili lemon peanuts
  • 1 cup shredded, sweetened coconut
  • 3 tbsp vegetable oil
  • 1 tsp chili oil
  • 1 tsp sesame oil
  • 1 tsp thai spice mix
  • 1 tsp  Spicy Chili Lime Popcorn Seasoning
  • 1/4 tsp powdered ginger

Heat oils in large frying pan. Add popcorn and cover. When popcorn starts to pop, shake pan constantly until popping slows. Remove from heat and continue shaking until popping stops. Mix peanuts, coconut and spices in a separate bowl. Pour over popcorn and toss.

Once again, thanks must go to my not-nearly-better half for putting together a strip. I told him he wouldn’t ever have to do another, since the last one was made solely as a tribute to Comic-Con. But I say a lot of things—I’m almost biblical in that sense. I suppose a confession is in order, as well: I don’t actually own a laptop. We made that part up. Somebody buy me one.

TWTG says, “I have risotto on my shirt and what looks like a booger.”


Hare And Makeup

Emo Bunny says, "but testing made me fabulous!"

To say I don’t give two shits about Spring cleaning should not imply that I could maybe give one. I choose to keep a messy house for excellent reasons: I’m lazy and we both know you’ll forgive me. But, with the raccoons at their dad’s and Jesus appreciating a nice house on Easter, last week was spent squeezing out a couple deuces (which I believe makes it a quartet) of cleaning goodness. I am a lady and a scholar.

While I worked the upstairs, I assigned Russell to clean the kitchen. Despite being The White Trash Gourmet, I hate doing dishes and every good cook needs a plongeur. When he found the bottom of the sink, he asked for some Comet to scrub it out. Now, I get he said this as an eponym—the way people ask for Kleenex instead of tissue—but, being the cruel mistress I am, I had to instigate. “I don’t buy Comet,” I scoffed. “They test it on animals!” I went on to rant about Proctor & Gamble (which has always sounded like an evening of poker and colonoscopies) and how famously horrible they were to bunnies.

“You’re horrible to bunnies,” Russell replied. “You wrote an entire post about how proud you were to murder them!” I insisted there was a difference, but he fired back, “not to the bunnies, there isn’t. Whether they’re eaten for dinner, or tortured in a lab, it doesn’t make them any less dead.” He wasn’t making a serious argument, just poking the bear like a moron. He knows there’s a difference. He understands we are meant/built to eat rabbits. They are (by definition) prey, and our sharp teeth and ability to digest more than lettuce accommodates these facts. Every culture has found a way to respect their kills. It should going without saying, then, that there is absolutely no honor in expending animals in the name of beauty and cleaner toilets.

So. Yeah. Suck eggs, Russell.


Potatoes, stuffed with bacon, topped with bacon.

  • 3 lbs (more or less) potatoes, diced
  • 6 tbsp butter
  • 3 tbsp minced shallots
  • 6 slices cooked bacon, crumbled
  • 1/4 cup parmesan cheese
  • 2 tbsp truffle oil
  • 1/4 cup milk (more or less)
  • salt/pepper

Disclaimer: I made these for Easter dinner, and I really didn’t measure as I went. (They were so yummy, however, I just had to share.) Thus, the measurements above are approximations.

Place potatoes in a large stock pot and add enough water to just cover them. Add a generous amount of salt and bring to a boil. Cook until tender, about 15–20 minutes. Drain potatoes into colander. Add butter and shallots to the same pot that potatoes were cooked in and saute until shallots soften. Remove from heat, add back the potatoes and other ingredients, and mash until the potatoes are nice and creamy. I like to add my milk a little at a time to make sure that the potatoes don’t get too soggy.

In the interest of fairness, I did a little research and Proctor & Gamble sold Comet to Prestige Brands in 2001. I have no idea if the latter is kinder about their testing (I said a little research), but that still doesn’t alleviate a semicentennial of doing the wrong thing. Hence:

Comet, it makes your teeth turn green
Comet, it tastes like gasoline
Comet, it makes you vomit,
So try some Comet, and vomit today!

TWTG says, “Oh my God, your meat is flying everywhere!”

Breaking No Mold

All smiles on the road to ruin.

Almost a month into 40 and I seem to be right on the wrong track. In fact, let’s make a checklist of how well I’ve adhered to the stereotype. Skirts too high? Check. Necklines too low? Check. An abundance of debt met with an absence of equity? Check. A bad marriage replaced by a 29-year-old boy thing? Absolutely check. I think I’m supposed to find a loophole in my insurance to pay for implants, but based on the recent search engine terms that have led sheep unto my flock (my favorite being “bristling boobs”), biology already has my back. Rather, the front. Where the bazongas are.

All that’s really missing is the convertible… so, naturally, bitch went out and got one. It’s a 2009 People’s Car Eos (or Volkswagen Eos if you wanna be all European). It’s sporty, purty and just the kind of materialistic goodness that an aging scene kid needs to stay young at heart. Did I sell out to conformity or was I buying into it? I guess KiLo already answered that question. As for how I can afford the car, the answer is barely. My teeth still have their skin, but I can now proudly(?) dub myself The Poor White Trash Gourmet. That doesn’t mean I’ll be modifying the URL anytime soon, just that I’ll be financially destitute for many, many, many years. Did I mention it was sporty?

What I've been reduced to.

Basic Oven Fries

  • 8 potatoes, skin on
  • 1/4 olive oil
  • 1 tsp garlic powder
  • 1 tbsp Italian seasoning
  • 2 tbsp dried minced onions
  • Salt & pepper

Preheat oven to 400˚. I prefer to use convection (I find it makes the fries crispier), but this is not required. Wash potatoes and pat dry. I cut them into quarters and then slice into about 1/2 inch pieces. Toss potatoes with remaining ingredients in large bowl. Arrange in a single layer on baking sheet. Bake for 20 minutes, stirring with spatula halfway through. Potatoes are done when they are nicely browned.

I should probably learn to speak Sputnik, given that my new ride has left me penniless and dependent on potatoes for starches. Soviet-like struggles resulting from German engineering… why does that sound eerily familiar?