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That which does not kill you

Everything’s changing this month! Diaryland’s user interface changed (oh, does anyone actually use this site anymore? Everyone seems to be Somebody Dot Com these days but still! It’s weird to not have the girly light blue Diaryland GUI! Also, hi, that was just a brief snippet of my day job sneaking into where it shouldn’t be. Carry on!) and Elastic Waist had a big redo this month, which means that there’s not nearly as orange-ness on the site and also, a weird illustration of yours truly on the sidebar where I think I look kind of cross-eyed, but that’s just me. Also, they now show you who wrote the damned things, and while before it wasn’t really so obvious that about 90% of what was on the site was written by yours truly, now Plork/Anne is also contributing to the main site, so it’s handy to see who is talking at you.

And also, speaking of work, shit is changing there, and I might actually finally be moving over to my window cubicle, which was promised to me lo these many months ago (MOTHERFUCKING JULY 2007). And apparently there are other changes afoot at the Circle K, scary changes, like jobs going away, but no, not me, never me. I know, I know, it sounds like I’m an ungrateful bitch and if I don’t like the job I should just leave. That’s not it. I’ve just “survived” so many of these things that I know that things are never really better from the peeon perspective. But really, I embrace change, which is one of the reasons that the suits like to keep me around, because most of the time I spend walking aimlessly around nubby beige halfwalls, waving my arms and shouting about social injustice. If I also asked for spare change or called people “whore”, I might be indistinguishable from a street person, but in corporate America, this gets you noticed and patted on the head or something. I don’t know. I’m grumpy and this is boring so let’s talk about something else.

This weekend, we decided to spend Saturday night curled on the couch watching one of the Bourne movies and Esteban declared that popcorn would really make it an event. I cosigned that, because I do love popcorn, very very much, and also, I just researched a huge blog entry on whole grains and was surprised to realize that popcorn is actually not the carby sin that I thought it to be. Also, can I be frank? The pooping? I don’t know what the hell is going on with me (god, am I pre-menopaus–nevermind, I’m not even going to say it) but JESUS with the not pooping! Forgive me for the brief entrance into Doocedom but I clearly have been neglecting my fiber. Or something. Actually, I’ve been wondering if it’s not a chain of events having to do with my nightly two chewable Vanilla antacids. Like, do they act like some kind of cork or something? I only have to take them if I’ve had anything remotely acidic or wine during dinner, but judging how often we eat garlic-based meals, that’s practically every night. Which basically means that I’ve just turned into my great-grandmother right this minute.

So, the popcorn. Amazingly, despite our plethora of kitchen gadgets, we didn’t have a popcorn popper. We made a special trip to Target for a Stir-Crazy popper. This was the same popper we used to have, one that ended up developing some kind of weird schmeng on the popper, so we ditched it ten years ago. Ten years and my only venue for popcorn has been the movie theatre! A crime, is what that is. A crime. Target, however, was out of popcorn poppers, so we went to Shopko, which carried the same Stir-Crazy popper, only for 40% more than Target. Bastards! No wonder Esteban’s Shopko stock is tanking! Because they are bastards! Esteban decided that since his options on our side of town were dwindling and he really just wanted to go home, he would pay the extra cash and be done with it. It’s our fault for having these irrational popcorn impulses to begin with. We hit a grocery store and stocked up on popcorn, a bunch of different seasoning salts and two kinds of oils (some peanut oil and one that purports to be usable as a popcorn topping as well as an oil, the one we call “Freaky Grease”) and made a giant bowl of popcorn, then settled in under the Muppet blanket and watched Matt Damon be cooler than everyone that ever was. We decimated the bowl and then made another one, this time using the correct amount of oil (note: there is a difference between a teaspoon and a tablespoon. I totally knew that.) and did a tasting of the various salts and coatings. Verdict: “Freaky Grease” tastes the best, but we’re torn between loving the Nacho Cheese (me) or the Garlic Parmesan (Esteban) toppings. Although I also do enjoy just the plain stuff with a sprinkling of grey Fleur de Sel, which is very nice because it kind of clumps, so you get these bland areas and then the fragrant salty pieces. You just never know what to expect.

I love the popcorn so much that I ended up making a batch for breakfast on Sunday and then another batch for dinner that night. I am addicted! I’ve been thinking about spritzing the popcorn with white truffle oil instead of butter, or maybe even breaking out my truffle salt (although the crystals are pretty big and I’d have to hit them with a grinder first, I think), or maybe hitting it with some pecorino romano instead. I might just be eating all popcorn all the time! It could happen! I might die of scurvy, but it would be a good death.

And also, I feel about ten pounds lighter since the Popcorning. So there’s that.

 

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