Blog Archives

sexiest food in the cutest container…

If you were to ask me what food was the best for being intimate I would tell you Chinese Take Out. “You are soooo weird”, I hear you whispering over cyber-miles. Too right. You might be thinking about something sexy and delicious, like strawberries. Strawberries are the “go-to” fruit when you want to have hot, unbridled passionate love making. Everyone knows that. Strawberries with chocolate, strawberries with whipped cream, strawberries with sugar. Sexy, sexy, sexy. And yes, they are delicious. Not so sexy, however, when you are allergic to them. Breaking out in hives? Not sexy. Itchy throat that makes you have to scratch it by making that weird choking/snorting noise? Definitely not sexy. Having your throat close up when you are ‘in the mood’? Wow. That sucks. (ha ha)

Chinese Take Out is definitely my food of choice for intimacy. And I’m not saying that it’s necessarily a good aphrodisiac, or that it should be involved at all in foreplay…as much as I like spring rolls, I’m not thinking they should be eaten off of anyone’s body. The intimacy I mean is more of an emotional response to the food. When I watch TV shows, or movies, any time a group of people are working hard and passionately about something, working closely together in a small knit group, Chinese Take Out is involved. Sure you often see pizza containers, but more often it seems that little boxes of Chinese food litter the table, floor, or counter tops. Chinese Take Out on TV seems to imply connection, intimacy, and being together in the wee hours of the morning. Sure sometimes it just implies hard work, and maybe a need for quick, delicious food. But somehow it has become linked with sensuality in my mind.

Maybe it’s because of an ancient conversation I had with someone, who said he knew a couple whose habit it was to stay in on Sundays, and enjoy an entire day of love making, getting out of bed only to order Chinese Take Out. Maybe it’s because I’ve seen couples in the movies or shows I watch order each other’s favorite Chinese meal, bicker about who gets the noodles or egg rolls, and wave those chopsticks around like little wooden phallus’. Maybe I just have a thing for Chinese food so it makes me happy. Maybe it’s the cute little boxes that fold up like little pieces of origami full of tasty treats. I don’t know, but I’m in love with the image of eating out of the boxes. I suppose that seduces me right there, and is a bit sensual as well. Not to mention the not always exciting fortunes that are intimately tucked into a cookie shell that could possibly resemble the female body, if one allowed one’s mind to consider such things. Secret treats inside a secret hiding place. And how intimate is that right there! Surprising me with an unknown secret thought that only I can see when I burst open the cookie. Mmmm…Chinese Take Out is good all around.

So if there’s anyone out there looking to seduce me, better get some chopsticks ready and show up at my door with lots of little folded boxes. You’ll be in for the tastiest night of your life.

my own brand of crazy

I keep telling someone dear to me that I am crazy. Which is funny for several reasons: 

a. It’s not like this is some big secret. He knows me. He’s seen me in a variety of situations. I’d have to wager that he already knows how bloody fucking crazy I am. It’s sort of one of those things I think people can pick up off of me. Not that I mean it’s contagious; just that it sort of resonates off of me. One girl I worked with years ago used a phrase I have since borrowed and loved: I’m touched with fire. (thanks for that Emily) 

b. It’s funny that I keep telling him, reminding him, in case he’d suddenly forgotten. In case he ran into a wall of Alzheimer’s and couldn’t wipe it all off of him, and now he’s miraculously oblivious to all my nutty antics and wacky behaviors. And just in case he isn’t completely scared off from me yet, why don’t I remind him again of what a psycho nut job case I am? ’Cause that’ll reel ’em in every time. Who doesn’t love a crazy chick? 

c. Who am I kidding? I throw this around, this phrase “I’m crazy” like it’s a special badge, or a golden ticket to a carnival that includes flying elevators and chocolate mixed with things that ought not to be mixed with chocolate and men who wear strange hats. I wear my little crazy badge like it’s something I’ve earned in the Girl Scouts (though really i never was a Girl Scout. i tried to be a Blue Bird for about one day, but the lady scared me off. still, i like their cookies) But really, anyone can earn the Crazy Girl Scout Badge. It’s not all that hard. 

d. And that’s the thing. Aren’t we ALL crazy, when it comes right down to it? We are “crazy in love”, because really how else can it go? Love makes our minds completely silly; we can’t remember what we’re supposed to be doing. We forget to eat. We can’t sleep. And then if it ends badly, we go crazy with upsetness. We want to die. We want revenge. We want to disappear into the atmosphere like the bubbles in a Coke commercial. And if it isn’t love making us crazy, it’s our goddamn relatives, because who doesn’t have some crazy nuts in their family tree? (sorry about the curse word there, whew. it just fit right in so nicely) But everyone has that dad that drinks too much, or the uncle that’s just a little too stalkery, or the kleptomaniac grandmother. Ok fine, I’m talking about my family, but it COULD be yours. Or maybe yours is the sister that sleeps with every breathing thing, or the brother that has to be better than everyone else at everything else. Whatever, when you mash us all together in a family reunion, there are fights and words and bruised egos, and they all make us crazy in the end. 

e. And that’s what happens. We are all crazy in the end. Maybe not certifiable (speak for yourself. i’m trying to get that padded room with the view, so don’t EVEN try to claim it) Maybe not all of us have to take meds (mine aren’t even very fun colored. grrrr…) Maybe some of us try to pass ourselves off as ‘normal’ (i’m completely over that stage of life, thus the Crazy Badge wearing episodes) But when we get right down to it, we all still do the some crazy things we tell ourselves not to do. Fall in love again. Open our hearts up to people. Hope in the future. Believe in the impossible. Trust in the beauty of another day. Crazy. Just like everybody else.  And that’s ok. I just have my own special brand of crazy.