because I am having trouble settling on a story idea for Vm.A.
More ways you know you're me:
At lunchtime, your response to 'the kitchen is out of plastic forks' is 'then I will eat my leftover burgermac with chopsticks'. And you have them. And you're good at it, to the point where you spend the entire lunch period reading while you eat (without dropping any of it on yourself or the table), rather than paying attention to what you're doing. Meanwhile, your co-worker, a native of Shanghai, is eating melon with a knife and fork.
Also the burgermac was made with soy-based meat substitute just because.
The voice in the back of your head that compels you to impulsively purchase extra food at the supermarket is not only fully capable of switching between Homer Simpson ("mmmm, x") and Cookie Monster ("X! X! X! X! WANT X! WANT X NOW!"), but waits until you're looking at a market freezer full of Breyer's, Edy's, Ben & Jerry's, and Haagen-Dazs. . . then starts yelling "TURTLE MOUNTAIN SOY ICE CREAM SUBSTITUTE! WANT SOY ICE CREAM NOW! NOW! Mmmmmmm, maaaaarble miiiiiint fuuuuudge. . ."
Your idea of a basic noodle dish involves peanut butter, sesame oil, at least two (possibly three) fermented or dried bean products, hot sauce, and a whisk. If you're really tired you might consider using the tomato paste, oil, salt, and garlic recipe that's been in your family since as long as anyone can remember.
The most common reason for you to go 'oh, thank goodness, it was only a dream' when you wake up isn't nightmares. It's that you were having trouble resolving one of the plot points within the context of the dream and couldn't figure out why, because everything else made so much sense.
You regularly swap out your curse words, and they're not even real curse words. Your most persistent/commonly used curse word is 'Frith!', but you've been known at moments of anger/pain to yell 'fsck', 'fardles', 'poot', 'holy mother of Fnord', and similar things. Ordinary expressions of surprise also get swapped out, and your current weapon of choice in that department is 'holy cats'. You do not realize quite how silly this sounds until you catch yourself saying it while you are in the Late Period section of the Egyptian Art exhibit at the Metropolitan Museum of Art.
It takes you several minutes to get the grill lighted, because you won't do it until all the daddy-longleggers inside are well out of flame range and there's no good reason to do 'em harm.
It's an act of willpower to drink cola that hasn't been cut at least half-and-half with milk. Espresso soda, on the other hand, is to be enjoyed straight, preferably fresh out of the refrigerator.
The dialogue in your head when you stand in front of the Books Dealing With China section of the Met's gift shop runs like this: 'got that, got that, haven't got that yet, got that, read that one at the library, not gonna read that one, oooooooo must get those, got that, okay where does the translator live she needs to be thrashed bloody because she translated ALL THE NAMES, got that, haven't got that, haven't got that, wonder if the library's got that, got that. . .' Meanwhile your undergraduate majors were health-sciences-oriented anthropology and religion, and the graduate degree you're working towards is in MIS.
You can name at least six grades of wheat flour, three types of sugar, and four different types of salt, along with the appropriate uses for each, but you haven't a clear concept of foundation makeup beyond theatrical base, nor of how to go about changing the oil in your car. Although as far as you're concerned, the oil is probably the easier of the two things to learn, because you can get the owner's manual out of the glove compartment and borrow a pan, a skateboard, and the right tools should the need arise. You do know how to change a tire by yourself, though.
Even though you have neither religious nor medical dietary restrictions on you, you have recipes that meet those restrictions for each and every one of your friends who do have such restrictions, with the possible exception of the guy in your Foods Prep II class who's allergic to beef. And this seems perfectly normal to you.
![[personal profile]](https://www.dreamwidth.org/img/silk/identity/user.png){kind=small}
