u s e y o u r h a n d s

So there’s this weird epithelial ridge in my mouth, right side. Like I slept with my teeth slightly apart, and the skin there squished in. It’s a flap that I like to flip. I worry it constantly. And every day, it gets a little smaller. I want to bite it off.

I also want to bite into a big sandwich with plenty of mayo and mustard. So, guess I’m stuck.

Did you know that it is possible to stretch out the eating one square of a vosges bar to over one hour? It makes you feel incredibly full that way. Also vosges has one bar called the Naga Bar, which I believe, has wasabi in it, which i hate. But when I see this bar at Fox & Obel, I start singing “you’ve got to let that Naga drop!”

Sharif don’t like it.

So I randomly decided to take a class at the University of Chicago extension. Random is right, because I just went to their web site, and registered for a class the day it started.

It’s called Short Short Fiction, and looks at writing 1200 words and under. Which is what I’ve been doing on this here webbity for a few years now. Plus at GB. But I was petrified. Because although I’ve made my living as a writer for, like, eight years now, I have never taken a single writing class. Not a one. Which surprises people and astounds me. Not because I’m ridiculously talented and think I never have needed one. But because there was such a gap in my education. This is why you should never rush your kids through school.

Anyway. Here I am. I’m petrified because I’ve never had to share my work. I mean, I’ll put postings out on the Internets, but as far as face-to-face criticism, I’ve never had to do that. Before I sent my first story out to the class at large, I had to completely black out the faces of everyone I’d seen at class the week before. Pretend they didn’t exist. And I reassured myself that if I didn’t like it, I didn’t have to go back.

My class was last night. So scared. We went through one person’s story, then another. And then time was up. Mine has to wait until next week. But at least I didn’t throw up.

So, I have a bone to pick with Rachel Ray, the Food Network, and that show “$40.” Here are my complaints:

1. I do not particularly enjoy her brand of Gidget-y, crooked-smile beauty. Also, I imagine that she’s about four feet tall — another trait that I don’t find particularly endearing.

2. She eats her food in a really weird way. In the epi that I watched this evening, Rach’ ordered a $14.50 grilled salmon and asparagus salad from a cafe in Nantucket. In the first bite, she eats only the salad, saying “Mmmm! It’s got this yummy, smokey taste from the grill. Blah blah blah blah. Mmmm!” In her second bite, she eats only the asparagus: “It’s got a much different taste thanwhen it’s steamed. It’s so good — it’s almost nutty. Mmmm!” And in the third bite, she says, “Now I’m going to try the salad, to taste some of that incredible dressing. MMMMMMMM!” See title.

3. Rachel Ray is a shitty tipper. So, she orders this $14.50 salad, right? Let’s say with tax it’s an even $15. She should leave $18 then, yes? Rach’ leaves a mere $17. I know it’s only a buck, but c’mon. It’s only a buck! Sometimes it’s even worse. It’s like she only ever leaves 15%, which I only do unless I get crapola service. Oh, I hate her puckered little puss, but I hate bare-minimum tippers even more. Grrr!

4. In some episodes (I think earlier on) she goes into the kitchen to watch her meal being prepared. She asks these dunderheaded questions and generally acts totally fake. And she touches people too much
Then, when her meal is prepared, she goes back to her table. Then, the dude she just watched make her food brings it out to her. What? Carry your own meal, yo. That way, that shitola tip makes more sense.

I sort of like the idea for the show. But not with Rachel. It makes more sense for a college student to do the show. You know, someone with a reason to scrimp. Rachel just looks cheap. Quick! Someone check her purse for pilfered diner silverware and potty paper.