I finally got my fuckin' Dippin Dots.
That's an important milestone in my summer. Every time I tried to get Dippin' Dots, they were either closed or I had no money. They closed them like two mins before I got to the booth at Seaside Heights (or 'Sleaze-side Heights' as Khristina calls it...) and it was pretty demoralising.
Steve and I went to the zoo, and we wandered around there gawking at some animals. I was amazed at how much information about primates I had retained from my Anthropology classes...I was able to explain why a lemur was a prosimian and not a monkey, and why the old world monkeys and new world monkeys are not incredibly diverged evolutionarily as compared to prosimians and monkeys. That stuff is pretty important to zoo enjoyment, after all. After we went to the 'deer yard', where one could frolic amongst the deer, I got my Dippin' Dots. Steve said they hurt his mouth ; amateur.
Oh, oh; another important milestone ; I COOKED for Steve. (With some help from my sister.) (Ok, and my mom.) But still, I did stuff ! I chopped an onion, I helped make the pie crust, and I chopped up the pieces of chicken. That's the most I have cooked ever ! (The previous record holder was some 'Hamburger Helper' back in 1998.) I'm sure many women of years gone by would scold me for not cooking for my man every day, but to be quite honest I'd rather have someone else cook. It's too much work and I'm too neurotic to handle it. When I was chopping the onions, I had been unconsciously making an effort to make all of the pieces of onion completely identical. Same thing happened with the chicken. Consequently, it took me a half hour to chop 1/3 of a cup of onion. Sigh.
I always do dorky stuff like that...Trying to cook for Steve, making a bulletin board for Steve, buying stuff for Steve. It's really the only way I can express affection. Affectionate words tend to make me want to vomit before they're even vocalised. The whole 'emo' aspect of courtship just seems so absurd and shallow. Like everyone who says those words of devotion really means them. It's probably just a personal feeling that words alone are the delicious baked potato of dating ; filling but lacking in nutritonal content. (Bam! If Steve reads this someday, he'll tremble at my power to create the stupid metaphor. ) I wish I had the words of love that I texted to Steve a few nights ago...I remembering saying that his eyes were like those of the Greek god Hephaestus. He said the message was scary, but I thought it was funny.
Guess I should just shut the fuck up and bake him some pie...
Steve and I went to the zoo, and we wandered around there gawking at some animals. I was amazed at how much information about primates I had retained from my Anthropology classes...I was able to explain why a lemur was a prosimian and not a monkey, and why the old world monkeys and new world monkeys are not incredibly diverged evolutionarily as compared to prosimians and monkeys. That stuff is pretty important to zoo enjoyment, after all. After we went to the 'deer yard', where one could frolic amongst the deer, I got my Dippin' Dots. Steve said they hurt his mouth ; amateur.
Oh, oh; another important milestone ; I COOKED for Steve. (With some help from my sister.) (Ok, and my mom.) But still, I did stuff ! I chopped an onion, I helped make the pie crust, and I chopped up the pieces of chicken. That's the most I have cooked ever ! (The previous record holder was some 'Hamburger Helper' back in 1998.) I'm sure many women of years gone by would scold me for not cooking for my man every day, but to be quite honest I'd rather have someone else cook. It's too much work and I'm too neurotic to handle it. When I was chopping the onions, I had been unconsciously making an effort to make all of the pieces of onion completely identical. Same thing happened with the chicken. Consequently, it took me a half hour to chop 1/3 of a cup of onion. Sigh.
I always do dorky stuff like that...Trying to cook for Steve, making a bulletin board for Steve, buying stuff for Steve. It's really the only way I can express affection. Affectionate words tend to make me want to vomit before they're even vocalised. The whole 'emo' aspect of courtship just seems so absurd and shallow. Like everyone who says those words of devotion really means them. It's probably just a personal feeling that words alone are the delicious baked potato of dating ; filling but lacking in nutritonal content. (Bam! If Steve reads this someday, he'll tremble at my power to create the stupid metaphor. ) I wish I had the words of love that I texted to Steve a few nights ago...I remembering saying that his eyes were like those of the Greek god Hephaestus. He said the message was scary, but I thought it was funny.
Guess I should just shut the fuck up and bake him some pie...