I Only Talk About Food

The semester is coming to a close, and Elise and I are panicking. Not because of finals, not because of missions, not because we're leaving our friends, but because of food. 

We've been trying to eat every last thing in our apartment and things are getting slim. And I mean slim, my friends. I am genuinely concerned that I am going to be eating feta cheese and month-old hummus for the next couple of days. Cross-eyed kitty comes to visit and I have nothing to offer her! Is that how she is going to remember me for the rest of her lives?! 

Food has always defined my existence. Have you heard of the mantra, "I eat to live, not live to eat"? Well I think that is hog-wash. Why do you think I am active? Do you think I enjoy listening to Tony on P90X sexually harrassing people? NO! I do it so I can shove food down my gullet! Eating is even better than having a gentleman-friend because food will always love you (even when you get a little chubby) and you still get to suck face. Can a man make you as happy as a gallon of brownie ice cream? It cannot. And nothing beats eating bowls upon bowls of Massaman curry at Thai Mango. It's impossible. 

Now that I have managed to prove how much of a fatty I am, let me continue the trend by warning you that if we hang out I will only talk about food. If I do happen to speak on a different subject like mountain biking or politics, I will somehow relate it to eating. It's a gift. Having a conversation on the intricacies of black holes? My reply may be something like; "I like hot dogs." or "Remember that one time we ate an entire loaf of french bread in the store?". 

A couple nights ago I had a nightmare that made me truely comprehend how potentially dangerous this love is. My dream was that Nicholas Cage kept asking me out to eat. I of course didn't want to be dating the weirdest actor on this planet (besides Robin Williams) but I continued to kiss him (gross) and spend every day with him because we ate out for every meal. I would be about ready to break off the horrid affair when he would mention that he wanted to take me to Tucanos or Olive Garden.... This went on for a long time and if I hadn't woken up I would have become Mrs. Cage, all because of my greedy little stomach. 

I ate at least two platters of crab cakes at this wedding. 

This is at Easter dinner. I am apparently really entranced with those lamb chops in front of me. 

One of the many many pictures on my phone of food. This is a Nutella crepe. Consider the relationship FB official. 

Now if you will excuse me, I am going to Sunday dinner. To eat. My Grandma made cookies and I predict that I will eat the entire jar. 

Also, I hate people who say that serving sizes should be made smaller. WHY? WHY? WHY? That is just cruel and my belly cries every time I think about it. 

Happy Sabbath.