My friend told me she heard about a new diet.
“Well, what is the diet?” I asked.
“A diet of Kleenex?”
“Yes. Celebrities eat the Kleenex instead of food items. It makes them ‘full’”
I decided not to do that particular diet,
because I don’t like things that are spelled with a K when they seem like they should be spelled with a C.
My friend told me she heard about a new diet.
I spent the weekend acting in a short film. Film acting involves a lot of sitting around, goofing off, and eating snacks, so really it’s the perfect job for me.
I found out that one of the crew members grew up on the same street I used to live on in Memphis. We hit it off, and in between takes he told me stories about his childhood. Eventually, he divulged to me that he had played Pockets in the classic 90s film Hook! Whaaat?!!! Meeting a child actor from Hook is possibly the best thing that can happen to anyone, ever, so I couldn’t believe my luck!
When he told me this, I was amazed. I texted one of my best friends, and since she had a fever she was equally amazed and did not question the validity of his statement. Also, as my most rational and logical friend, she failed to mention that this kid was probably lying. But she had a fever, so I guess it’s ok. (love you, B. Feel better!)
When I got home after shooting, I was so excited to tell my boyfriend that I hung out with the actor who played Pockets in Hook. I Googled him…and quickly realized it was not the same person.
I had been tricked. Tricked bad.
The next day I had to be on set really early. I told the makeup artist what happened, and we planned an elaborate scheme….
When Jerome (AKA NOT Pockets from Hook) got on set, I ran up to him.
“My little sister is a huge fan of your movie. I know this is a lot to ask, but I was wondering…do you think you could maybe visit her in the hospital? It would mean a lot.”
Jerome hid from me all day. He avoided eye contact every time I saw him.
After the film wrapped, I found him outside.
“Here’s your autograph back. My sister is going to be so disappointed. Thanks a lot.”
He looked like he was about to cry, so I couldn’t keep up the joke any longer. I told Jerome (NOT POCKETS!) that the joke was on him this time.
“What?!!! I spent all day worrying I was going to be on the news and everyone was going to find out.”
“Nah. I’m an only child. Later Pockets!”
My parents wanted to take me for a birthday dinner/meet & secretly judge my boyfriend. They suggested The Melting Pot, which is where you go if you live in the suburbs and want to eat at a “nice” restaurant. My parents talked me into going by telling me there were all kinds of different cheeses there. Um, sold. What ensued was one of the weirdest dining experiences of my life. A recap:
foursquare (yeah, I still check-in.sometimes they give you a discount!) congratulated me on my first check-in at a “Swiss restaurant”. I guess “congratulations on your first check-in at a vaguely swiss-themed chain restaurant” is too long to fit on most mobile screens.
The waitress hurried out and began preparing the cheese fondue at our table. She was clearly in a frenzy. “Sorry,” she said, “They just fired half the staff. There was a huge cheese scandal…”
Cheese scandal?! The only thing I love as much as cheese is a good scandal. My ears perked up immediately.
“Tell me more!”
“Well, half the staff was caught stealing 5 gallons of cheese. Apparently it was for some party they were having.”
I wanted so badly to be invited to the Cheese Party. 5 gallons! I imagined the delicious spread of snacks they would have there. Or maybe they would just put all of the cheese into a giant bucket and have a free for all. Or maybe a cheese keg! Or…
Back to the meal.
After the first course was over, a very frail looking boy came to set up the tabletop cooking device for the next portion of the meal.He had large, sad eyes and appeared somewhat frightened as he hoisted the heavy metal pot onto the table.
“Do people get hurt here a lot?” I asked him. (at that point I was drunk on cheese and behaving inappropriately.)
“Yes.” He said gravely. With that he turned and walked away.
According to the menu, The Melting Pot is a good place to go for a romantic dinner. Because really, what is more romantic than plates of raw meat that you get to spear and cook in boiling liquid.
After the meat course, I was feeling sick (I’m usually a vegetarian). I excused myself to go to the bathroom, which is located right next to the kitchen. As I was leaving I ran into the waitress, who was holding a birthday balloon. I had already told her AND my parents that there was to be absolutely no singing or birthday fanfare, and ESPECIALLY no balloons. I detest birthday fanfare, unless it comes in the form of expensive gifts. Anyway, this balloon was highly suspect. I had to confront her.
“I will hide in the bathroom until you get rid of that thing. I will wait in there until the restaurant closes. Don’t test me.”
“This isn’t for you.” she promised me.
Seeing as I had just met her, I hadn’t decided if I could trust her yet, so I took an alternate route back to my table, discreetly following her to ensure that the balloon found its way to a table that was not my own.
By the dessert course, I was almost falling asleep. It took about 5 cups of coffee to get me back to a conscious state. The caffeine kicked in, and I forced myself to eat some chocolate covered cheesecake to be polite.
At the end of the meal they brought out fancy gold-plated receptacles for patrons to vomit in. (Not true.)
When I went to sleep that night, I was haunted by nightmares. I was in a Meat Prison, and the only way to get out was to eat 20 platefuls of steak tartare.
I can’t talk about meat anymore without wanting to vomit, so now is the perfect time to announce that I will be interviewing Patrick of the (almost, sort of) famous blog Awkward Eldon for my next post! Patrick will be answering intense questions about his personal life. I have not cleared any of this with him.
A little over a week ago, I ran a contest: time for a snack (CONTEST!)
I’ve finally sifted through all of the entries (ok, there were, like, 6 ) and chosen a winner.
Congratulations, Edward Hamlett II! Your entry made me laugh, cry, and never want to eat corn again.
The winning entry:
Damn you Corn
Damn you corn! I don’t get u at times
Do you wanna be HIS chips, HER popcorn, or
one of MY cracker barrel dinner sides
I told you how I loved to nibble your bits
Then you go flattening into chips and
Doing this late night movies in a bucket sh–t
I want you on my cob baby please
but how you swish around different mouths
I don’t wanna be diseased
You better make up your mind
Oh girl you’re such a tease
You know those buttery little niblets make
me weak in the knees
Said she’d would listen to my
pleas and make me happy tonight
You showed up off the cob
again as a piece of nasty bread
Honorable mention goes to Coley and Kendallicious.
Enjoy your candy corn, Edward!
***Leave a comment telling me your favorite snack.I will randomly (not really. I’ll pick whichever one I deem funniest/best/most original/least gross) choose a winner. Winner receives the snack of his or her choice, courtesy of me.Cannot exceed $10. Contest ends 8/25/2011 at 11pm. Limit one entry per person.***
i was wondering
what is your favorite type of snack?
as long as it’s not pickles from a bag
we should be fine
yeah…we’ll probably get along just fine
(unless you’re just a dick in general)
Some people think they’re pretty tasty
I’ve seen people buy them in line at the gas station and i’m always like, “Ew, nasty”
i secretly judge those people
i just don’t get it
what do they enjoy about the pickles
besides that they’re convenient?
one time i asked the owner of the corner store
what was the target demographic for those
he said mainly truckers.