These Moves Aren't Gonna Bust Themselves
Fancy lady. Saucy wench. Super Mom. Fine wife. Writer. Jokester. Keeper of the real.
I eat my bacon out of a goblet, because I am classy. And awesome.
I do not fancy myself a “food blogger,” or a “blogger” of any sort, actually. Basically, I just think stuff and then type it. One of the things that I recently thought (and am now typing) is that I wanted to try shirataki noodles. So, welcome to the first installment of “Totally Gross, or Actually Good?”
I don’t know about you people, but I get most of my life advice from two sources: 1. 80s Hip-Hop, and 2. Mr. Internet. Obviously, after seeing roughly twelve million ads for the “Japanese Miracle Noodle!” and “the Asian woman’s secret to staying thin,” I had to investigate. (I feel compelled to mention that I also want to buy everything I’ve ever seen on late night infomercials. Every. Thing.)
Using my finely honed investigative skills, (aka, “googling”) I learned that there are a few different kinds of shirataki. They are all made (at least partially) from konjak root, and the difference in color is from processing and/or additives. There are also tofu shirataki, but I did not get those, because soy makes my stomach hurt. Since I am old now, lots of things make my stomach hurt, like sugary drinks, soy, dairy, and teenagers.
(Oh! The word “shirataki” means “white waterfall.” Pretty!)
I had to go to my local Asian market to find the real, non-soy shirataki. I asked the nice lady there which she preferred, the white or the gray. I was really hoping she would say the white ones, because…I mean, gray food? But…but…white waterfall! Of course, she said the gray ones. However, since my new thing is being an an adventurous spirit who isn’t exactly crazy about your rules, man, I bought them anyway. They come packaged in some sort of juice. I don’t know why, because I didn’t feel like googling that. They were very cheap, as I got three packages for six dollars.
Apparently the big deal with these noodles is that, since they are %100 fiber and have like, A calorie, they don’t count. At all. You can eat a potful, so what? Doesn’t count! This was exciting to me.
As soon as I got home, I immediately looked up the best way to cook these little miracles. I was advised to drain the noodles and rinse them thoroughly, as the juice they were packed in had a smell that I “may not be accustomed to. (sic)”
The juice smelled like dead fish and sadness. No. I am not accustomed to that.
After rinsing the noodles for about five minutes, the smell was mostly gone. I tossed them in a skillet with a little olive oil, some veggies, and lots and lots of seasoning. Oh, that’s another thing with these noodles; they taste like nothing. They’re like tofu, they just take on the taste of whatever you cook them with. Sauteed for a few minutes, dumped it in a bowl, and prepared to be completely thin and hot and Asian.
Um.
Look, if you are one of those people that really “eats with your eyes,” you will NOT like these. They look disgusting. Being the unpredictable pistol that I am, I powered through my overwhelming urge to throw them away, and took a bite.
Actually (kind of) good! All I could taste were the seasonings I added. The texture of the noodles is not really pasta-like. More like…really firm jello, shaped like a noodle. If you’re weird about the texture of your food, you probably won’t like these, either. I don’t mind that sort of thing, so I kept eating.
I got through about five bites before I felt full. REALLY full. Oh, yeah…%100 fiber. Right.
So, like I said, Actually (kind of) good! I would not say they are delicious and that you should definitely get some. But, if you are trying to lose weight and you can get past all the gross aspects, they might be something you should try. If you want. Sheesh, I don’t know. Don’t listen to me. I get my life advice from 80s hip-hop and the internet.
This morning was supposed to be GO TIME. I set up a work area in the kitchen; laptop, coffee (my faithful servant, my one true friend) pen and paper. I put on my glasses, because they obviously make me smarter, and also so I wouldn’t have to type everything in 24 point font just so I could see it. I was READY. I was WRITING.
…………………
Nothing. I tried looking around the kitchen to come up with hilarious observations about…kitchen stuff. I mean, toasters, right? Buh. Geh. Fleeeeeuuuuurp. No.
Decided I would turn on some music, as I sometimes accomplish some serious thinking while listening to music. Swans? Oooh! Yes! Swans! (A band that I AM TOTALLY GOING TO SEE ON THE 17TH!!!) Now I am listening to Swans, and the only thing I am thinking is “Ugh. Shut up, Jarboe.”
My next Completely Amazing Brilliant Idea to Encourage Writing was to just make a list of things I want to write about.
The list so far consists of the heading “Things I Want to Write About” and a single bullet point.
Now I’m just here, writing about how hilarious it is that I can’t even write a list of things I want to write about, which is pretty meta and my mind is all blown and folding in on itself and stuff.
Tune in tomorrow, when I will discuss S’mores for breakfast (awesome) and how my dog is super weird. (Really, what is UP with that guy?)
Having my new favorite snack, pickles wrapped in ham slices, and I think to myself, “Man, these pickles sure are salty.” Oh, yeah! I have a blog which I named Salty Pickles because every time I eat pickles I say/think, “Man, these pickles sure are salty!”
Fine. I kind of forgot about this blog. What did you expect? I apparently forget that pickles are salty, until I eat THOSE SAME PICKLES AGAIN.
There’s probably a lesson in here about not having so many cocktails in your twenties, but whatever.
I cannot begin to describe how happy these make me.
tumblrbot asked: WHAT IS YOUR EARLIEST HUMAN MEMORY?
Wrapping myself up in a roll of chicken wire and pretending to be a robot.
Infuriatingly, I find I have trouble writing while properly medicated. I’m doing my best to force myself to write something every day, but it just doesn’t seem to have the same…I don’t know, *something* that my writing has when I’m deep down in The Crazy. I am already bored writing this. But OH, when I’m crazy…the words just pour out of my brain, unchecked, already perfect in structure and sound.
In this morning’s episode of Doctor Appointment, (starring me as “Patient” and Littlest Boy as “Doctor”) I receive some unsettling news:
Doctor: (takes patient’s temperature with a Lincoln Log) Oh my. You have a fever of 24. I’m afraid this means you have intestines!
Patient: Oh, man.
Aaaand scene.
Even when I hate everything in the whole world, at least there’s still music.
Me: I’m feeling sort of better today. Maybe things aren’t so bad. Maybe everything will be okay.
The Universe: Oh, really? Well, how about I kick you RIGHT IN THE FACE WITH MORE BAD NEWS?!?!?!
Me: I need to speak to someone about turning in my resignation.
