Posts tagged Food

Funny that when you think about Tootsie Rolls you’re all, “Whatever, fuck that shit.” But then you eat one and you’re like, “I’m sorry I talked bad about you. You’re actually pretty good.”

• Watching Free Willy so many times that my eyes fall out or my heart explodes from being exposed to too much love.


• Involved in a trampoline-related fetish accident with Ryan Phillipe.


• In a SAW movie where the trap is that I have to eat myself out of room made of peanut butter.


• As one of the orchestra musicians who kept playing while the Titanic went down. Such ROMANCE! Straight to Heaven, that bunch. Straight to Heaven.


• Accidentally stabbed by my pet unicorn’s forehead horn thingie while playfully wrestling in a pile of our money.


• In a blast of light and sound while being sucked in to the Space Time Continuum, which is what happens when you beat the internet. Also, “The Final Countdown” is playing.

It’s obviously impossible to describe yourself in 160 characters or less, so why are you so intent on listing several generic words that make you seem like a pompous douchebag?

Words in your bio that make you seem pretentious:

• “(Loving) Father/Mother”
  Oh, wow! You love your kids? No way! Here’s a medal.


• “______ Guru, Specialist, Extraordinaire”
  We all have jobs. We’re all OK at them. Have you written a best selling book or hosted a TV show about the thing you’re a “guru” at? Well then, you’re probably not actually a guru.


• A quote from Gandhi or Obama or something
  Blah blah blah. Peace and love and hope, I know, I know.


• “Food/Wine/Beer Enthusiast/Connoisseur”
  No you’re not. You eat plain Kraft singles when you come home from the bars, just like the rest of us.


• “Friend”
  This is the worst. You have succumbed to the lowest level of bragging. You may as well write “I have skin and enjoy listening to music.”

Words in your bio that make you seem stupid:

• “Obsessed with Social Media”
  OK, this is implied for everyone on Twitter. Why would someone who’s not obsessed with social media waste their time filling the digital world with short half-sentences that nobody else reads?


• “I like animals”
  Just shut up.

• Accept my Hello Kitty obsession for what it is: kitschy and adorable. Buy me things to feed the beast that is said obsession.


• Call me “Auntie Kel” when I’m holding your baby who I’m in no way related to. Not just anybody can be an honorary Aunt, you know. Oh… they can?


• Compliment my outline-of-the-state-of-Minnesota tattoo. Say I was definitely the first one to get it and, thus, started the fad.


• Make me cookies and then tell me I’m skinny and pretty while I eat them.


• Refer to my blog/twitter/musical taste as awesome and underrated.


• Make fun of other people with dreadlocks. Tell me that you realize I’m one-of-a-kind and a special exception to the dreadlock stereotype.


• Mention how you bet I could do more push ups than you. I’m up to like 12 in a row, FYI *kisses bicep*.


• Invite me to your wedding and give me a +1. This is a two-fer: You not only want me at your special day, but you also assume I might have a boy to bring. I probably won’t, but I appreciate the thought.

• Passed out, face down in a pile of discarded Sweet Martha’s Cookies and my own vomit


• Completely captivated (standing still, mouth hanging open in disbelief) by any infomercial product presentation in the Grand Stand


• Throwing a fit outside the Giant Slide because they wouldn’t accept my yin-yang pog slammer as compensation for another turn


• Refilling empty french fry buckets with ketchup and eating it with my fingers


• Having an epiphany, spreading ketchup all over my body and walking like a zombie outside the haunted house


• Asking all the vendors for their business cards to add to my collection


• Freeing all the bunnies in the animal barn ‘cuz they’re people too and we just wanna be FREEEE!

• Wake up, slightly sweaty, hair still in ponytail, hoop earrings still in ears, phone underneath my body. At least I took my shoes off. Actually, I think I walked home barefoot, so I don’t really know where my shoes are, to tell you the truth.


• Pick up ketchup bottle from the floor next to my bed, put it back in the fridge. I hope I wasn’t eating it on that half-eaten tortilla on my bedside table. C’mon Kelsey.


• Drink the entire contents of the Britta water filter (from the pitcher itself). This thirst is way beyond cups. 


• Stick face under kitchen faucet. Drink that water, too.


• Toy with the idea of taking a shower. Decide I really should shower. Gather shower items while pouting about decision like this. Sit down in shower, but only for a second, jeeze, lay off!


• Drive to work. Stop at Super America for my “Sunday Survival Supplies” (3 bottles of Powerade Zero and a Milky Way). Whatev, Cashier! Like you’ve never accidentally drank 6 tallboys and then accidentally taken a double shot of Wild Turkey at last call. It was an ax-si-dent!


• Serve people their brunch. Complain about everything (customers, weather, general state of my life, etc.). Mix a handful of Ibuprofen into the hashbrowns I stole from the kitchen. 


• Leave work. Think about going to the beach or working out. Decide I’ll do those things after I do some laundry.


• Put in one load of laundry and fall asleep watching an iCarly marathon with my sunglasses on and one hand still in a bag of Tostito’s Scoops.


• Wake up from nap. Feel guilty about wasting another Sunday. Promise myself that next Sunday will be different.


• Put laundry in the dryer. Eat any and all leftovers in the fridge. Drink the whole Britta again. Pee for like 4 minutes straight. Go to bed.