Friday, 14 May 2021

Points in Case

Points in Case

A Love Letter to My Weighted Blanket

Posted: 13 May 2021 10:00 AM PDT

My Love,

When I put you in my Bed, Bath, and Beyond shopping cart and tweaked my back, I knew you were the one. You were bigger and heavier than I expected, but I knew that would only add to our intense relationship. When the cashier scanned that complimentary 20% off coupon she had at her register, without me asking, I knew that something so rarely offered must be fate.

We've been together for three years now, and I love that I've never washed you since taking you out of your plastic and cardboard packaging. The mysterious blood, sweat, and "other" stains create the beautiful, messy, patchwork tapestry of our complicated history. I can't believe how long I waited to purchase you. As you know, I have suffered from insomnia since birth.

I tried everything, from prescribed sleeping meds, paying $30 for an "Ocean Sounds" CD from Cracker Barrel, to gulping down a warm cup of 2% every night (even though I'm lactose intolerant and threw up immediately). Once I came upon you, I didn't know I was lost until you were found. I also realized how all of the meditation breathing, "relax" essential oil rollers, and excessive bong rips were preparing me for our future together.

The moments you awaken me in a slight (erotic) panic when you bunch up around my neck and crush my windpipe are some of the greatest memories of my adult life. While laying underneath you, in my most intimate times, I am thrilled when you crush me into a sexy pancake like the naughty poodle I am. When I'm under you, I feel like a corpse squished under the weight of six feet of dirt, and that's when I feel the most beautiful. The four slipped discs from trying to roll over under your weight are worth it, just knowing that once I find the perfect position, I'll be deep in my REM cycle for five to twelve hours.

I'm not a blanket virgin either, and once you found out I had a sorted affair with a royal purple, chunky-knit Threshold by Target throw, I thought I lost you forever. I wasn't in a good place when I met him. I was cold, broke, and high out of my mind, and he was on sale and oh so soft. I got distracted by his defined folds and creases while on display. It was the white ribbon packaging, the soft touch, and the Avril Lavigne song in the background at Target that truly undid me and made me take him home.

I am still angry at myself for wasting time on duvets who claimed they were filled with down, but instead were filled with "down-like" synthetic materials. Fuck you, you fake ass, synthetic, bad for the environment DUVET. To the microfleece blanket, micro applies to more than one thing. Your ass gaslit me and added to my anxiety by claiming you'd "fix" me, and I wouldn't need another blanket ever again. Tell that to my washer and dryer who are now clogged with forest green, microfleece lint. The spin cycle has been fucked up ever since.

You don't match the rest of my bedding at all, but it doesn't matter. You're there for me through the thick and thin, from reducing my anxiety to being a makeshift kettlebell. I mourn the day I will have to eventually replace you with a younger model, but nothing lasts forever.

P.S. In regards to your request for a menage a trois with melatonin gummies, I'm willing to try anything with you.

Yours always (or until the little glass beads inside of you start falling out and I throw you away),

Me

List: Quotes from Couple’s Counseling or Tweets from Indians Criticizing Their Government?

Posted: 13 May 2021 07:00 AM PDT

"All the neighbors are talking about us nowadays."

"I don't think planting trees in the backyard is going to fix this."

"You're making me gasp in bed for the wrong reasons."

"You should've told me about your fascination with cow urine before we got married."

"I can't go on living here unless you start coming through on your promises."

"We've got 99 problems, and that's only because you're counting 1/10th of them."

"I don't think this is the time to go on a tour of the country."

"Lately, our pictures on Facebook have been less than flattering."

"My mom thinks I should've settled down in America like the rest of my family."

"I don't understand why you won't even talk to me."

"The both of us know you're overcompensating with the size of our new house."

"You're secretly a Nazi, aren't you?"

"Please shave that beard, it doesn't suit you at all."

"No, I still don't get why drinking cow urine could be the solution to this."

This Recipe Might Seem Painstakingly Complicated, But It’s Also Surprisingly Dangerous

Posted: 13 May 2021 05:00 AM PDT

Hello everyone, thank you all for coming to Social Cooking Night at the Santa Monica Community Center. You're in for a real treat, because tonight we're going to be making an obscure Chinese dish called Ancient Zodiac Noodles. To all my first-timers, I promise that tonight will be easygoing and full of laughter.

Sorry, did I just say laughter? I meant tears. Lots of tears. Because this recipe is painstakingly complicated and also surprisingly dangerous.

We're going to start by arranging all the sauces in order from darkest to lightest. I know they're all shades of brown, but at least there are only 88 of them. Did you know that the number 88 is extremely lucky in Chinese culture? Cool, right?

By the way, some of you might be missing a couple sauces. It's not a big deal, but you'll just have to run down to the Chinese supermarket. Tyler, you took a semester of Mandarin right? You know what, don't worry about it. You'll figure it out.

Tonight, we're going to be making noodles by hand. The goal is for everyone to end up with 60 noodles. That's not a lucky number or anything, so don't stress. However, it is incredibly important that each noodle be thinner than the last. Otherwise, it's considered extremely bad luck, and could result in the unexpected death of one of your relatives. I'm not superstitious, but it has happened to me on more than three occasions. So do what you want, but my noodles will be getting thinner.

Next, we'll be boiling our noodles. To determine the duration, we simply take the number of noodles in the room, divide that by the number of participants who were born in the year of the Ox, then multiply that by the square root of your grandmother's maiden name. Pretty standard stuff.

Okay, this is where things get a bit tricky…

See that jade dagger that looks like a serpent eating another serpent? That's the Ancestral Umami Blade. We're going to take turns drawing blood in order to summon extra umami flavor. Don't worry, it's technically not witchcraft by legal standards and I have Neosporin.

That brings us to the Demon Ghost of Lu-Bei, a notoriously brutal Qin Dynasty general whose umami we'll be stealing for our noodles. He may or may not appear during our ceremony, because nothing pisses him off more than having his umami stolen.

If that happens, one of you will have to engage him in a knife fight using the Ancestral Umami Blade in order to banish him back into the Shadow Realm. It's important that you do not lose the knife fight, otherwise you'll be the one that gets banished.

We'll cover the specifics later on, but honestly, I don't think you need to worry about it. According to these scrolls, the Demon Ghost of Lu-Bei has only appeared like nine times. And four of those times, they were able to defeat him. You'll be fine.

By the way, did I already ask if anyone here is Egyptian?

Michael, you are?

Damn. Sorry bud, but you won't be able to participate today.

Like I said earlier, this is an ancient Chinese recipe and to be honest, they were kind of racist back then. Yeah, something about how "Egyptians bring bad vibes" or something. It's a rough translation, but I can read this part right here and it definitely says, "No Egyptians." So I'll go ahead and email you a refund. Don't worry, the front desk will still validate. Alright everyone, say goodbye to Michael.

Byyyyye Michael!

Okay, after tossing your noodles into the skillet, you'll have to do something with sesame seeds, sichuan peppercorns, and pig's feet. This part of the recipe is written in a regional Sichuan variation of archaic Chinese. I could translate it for you, but from my experience, it's much more rewarding if you do it yourself. So while you're all learning archaic Chinese, I'm going to be handing out some coleslaw. It's not Chinese or even related to this recipe at all, but I have a bunch left over from my previous class. We made Texas barbecue!

After that, it'll pretty much be ready to serve. There's just one last thing. As the name suggests, this dish is all about the Chinese zodiac. And just as the animals of the Zodiac competed against one another, so shall we—in Chinese bare-knuckle boxing.

As the tradition goes, the first person to be knocked unconscious will not be able to eat with us, and will instead spend the duration of the meal operating the lazy susan. In fact, the first person to ever get sucker-punched was named Susan, hence the name!

Lastly, if any of that was confusing or if you have any questions, be sure to ask me now. Because once this class gets going, we're not allowed to speak to one another until someone gets KO'd.

Ready?

Let's cook!
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