Maria sent me this photo on gchat. Then this convo transpired:
me: jdflkaskjljd!
me: no! he sat there?
maria: yep
maria: and ate bamboo
me: ugh
me: how come that man isn’t so excited about it
maria: i know
maria: i would take a nap on his big belly
me: i would pet its furry forehead
me: that huge adorable space between his ears and eyes
me: then i would give him a good long scratch behind his teddy bear ears
maria: yep me too
maria: and then he would bite our hands off
maria: right above the wrist
- maria: im going to be a nerd at work
- maria: can i borrow your yellow sweater?
- me: haha, why is my yellow sweater the nerdiest thing in our apartment?
- maria: yes it is
- maria: im goin to be a jcrew nerd
- maria: aka krista soriano
Sometimes, you just have to screw the food pyramid and cook the comfort food.
Tonight, Maria and I enjoyed a long-overdue resurgence of a classic college dish I made up when I was studying abroad in London. Basically it’s a cheesy tuna casserole, or a tuna bake, or whatever. Sounds disgusting, but I promise it’s not (trust me—I prefer my tuna raw). It’s the lovechild of the ingredients found in a 20-year old’s kitchen (or cabinet and minifridge): pasta, tuna, a can of cream of mushroom soup, a block of white cheddar cheese, butter, and lots and lots of garlic (tonight we’ve sprinkled panko on top for crisp), and when it all comes together, baked into each other and melty and gooey right out of the oven, it’s the most delicious thing ever.
--- 8 months ago --- 10 notes ---
Right now: Mimosas, leggings, GRE studying (Maria), Mockingjay (me), drums and bass from the Afro-American Parade outside, BeeJazz radio inside. Sunday. 3:45 pm.
--- 8 months ago --- ---
OK sooo…a few weeks ago, Maria started watching Friday Night Lights. I sat in for a couple episodes because I didn’t have anything better to do and proudly raised my nose at its overly dramatic, predictable, gratuitous story lines, and every character annoyed me.
Flash forward to the present time, and you can catch me and Maria sprawled out over our couch and armchair, apartment completely pitch black except for the glow of the flat screen, with the oscillating fan roaring away but drowned out by our pleading for each character’s personal justice and “oh my gosh”-ing at the sheer sex appeal of Tim Riggins’ (above) body, and we’re also probably on the fourth consecutive episode of the evening. I’m hooked. This is what happens when beautiful 30-year-old actors play high-schoolers. You feel like it’s all your high-school fantasies you never knew you had coming to realization, which is especially true when the school you went to didn’t have a football team.
We start season 3 this week, and I can’t wait to eat up every realistically improbable yet incredibly satisfying moment with a spoon.
--- 10 months ago --- 6 notes ---
