My best friend doesn’t like chocolate. And YES she still somehow gets along with this chocolate obsessed girl. This recipe is for her. So is this poem. I’m a romantic, I know.
My best friend won’t eat chocolate,
This, my greatest food obsession.
It quite nearly strained our friendship
When she made that grand confession…
So I have some problems with automatic toilets.
And yes, I’m talking about toilets on a food blog.
I’m a rebel.
Anyhow, let’s get this straight. Automatic toilets are supposed to be the sanitary no-hand alternative to flushing, right? But what actually triggers them to flush? I could never figure it out. Is it wiggling? Is it jumping up and down? Is it breathing loudly?? Does it have nothing to do with me and does the toilet just flush whenever the heck it wants? I honestly have no clue.
Let’s talk about some of the automatic toilets at my school. Continue reading
Romance is apparently overrated.
You see, my Babcia (Grandma) said it, and duh, she’s always right.
While my mom quizzed my sister on STDs for my sister’s microbiology course, my grandmother proclaims the following:
“Geez I’m never getting married to an old man again! They’re all so full of diseases! Between all those STDs, they’ll kill me before I have time to enjoy anything!”
Sister: You can always live in a happy platonic relationship with an old man.
Babcia: Platonic, Ha!! No, old men go strong til they’re eighty. There’s no staying away from them and their diseases!
I travel quite a bit, so I like to consider myself a decently worldly person.
Recently though, I’ve had a few conversations that have made me realize how unaware I am of the outside world.
Friend (On a mission trip in Australia): This trip is fantastic! …But scary sometimes.
Me: OMG what happened??
Friend: All the guys slept inside our little house and made us girls sleep outside in flimsy tents and I could hear the wild dogs screaming nearby and the poisonous bugs scurrying.
Lesson #1: Men who are overdosed with kindly mission work end up throwing chivalry out the window after a certain point, and no longer care for the welfare of the women around them. No mission trips for me! I only like nice men.
When I was 10 years old, I wanted to run away from home.
Don’t worry, I was quite decently looked after. I simply felt that my place was in the forest among my animal brethren rather than in a decently stylish, comfortable, large, suburban home (Duh. Easy choice).
I had everything very well planned out. To my mother’s surprise, I took a sudden interest in banking (Not telling her, of course, that it was to make sure I knew how to withdraw money from her account as needed). In addition, I had a set of blueprints for the simple cottage I would build, as well as alternative plans just in case something changed (also because I was bored and liked drawing houses).
I even had a spot picked out in the forest.
Then, suddenly, while adding the finishing touches to my plan, I remembered something.
About a week ago, I turned 18.
An official adult, on paper.
But I beg to differ. At 18 I plan to be just as much of a non-adult as I have been at 17. I mean, I make a pretty good non-adult.
So let’s have a little talk here. Why would I actually want to be an adult? What’s the point of adults anyway??
To my fellow youth: What have you ever learned that could not be discovered in greater depth somewhere in the bowels of the internet?
What delightful social norms have developed around you that you have not adopted from your peers?
What happy moments have you experienced that were not in the presence of adults, but rather around the invaluable influences that are your fellow teenagers?