So this isn’t something I’ve really talked about on here, but for the month of November, I am trying to go the entire time eating nothing but what I cook from scratch.  At first I thought it was going to be really hard, then I tricked myself into thinking it would be easy, then I realized I was totally up shit-creek, and then I remembered I can be a MOTHER FUCKING BAD ASS IN THE KITCHEN.

These are a few of the more impressive moments from this week:

• My own chips, with golden and red beets, fingerling potatoes, purple peruvian potatoes and miniature reds seasoned with gray salt and pink peppercorns,
• two loaves of buttermilk country bread,
• A 85/15 chuck steak hamburger with slab bacon, caramelized onions, horseradish mayo, chipotle barbecue sauce, and toasted sesame buns,
• Porkchops with an apple walnut stuffing,
• Dijon glazed, almond encrusted seared ahi steak,
• a quart or two of italian seasoned croutons from the stale ends of the aforementioned bread, and
• a batch of marshmallows, for hot cocoa prepared from cocoa shavings.

The real kicker is that I’ve done all of this at like, an 10th of what I spent last month on food, I’ve been eating like a king, and I (completely unintentionally) lost 8 lbs in the first six days.

So to the dicks I live with, keep calling me Suzy Homemaker, but I am gonna be cramming my skinny, not-poor faggoty face the entire month with the best damn food I’ve ever eaten, while you keep scarfing that Top Ramen like a pussy.

Look, it’s 7am, and I haven’t been home yet and I am already at work after miscalculating how long it would take me to get to work from the opposite direction. So… lists, lists are easy:

• Man, remember when she started three hours late, but then only had like, 7 songs?
• Who the fuck cares?
• She is the most adorable thing ever. So fun, so cute, and so so so flirtatiously sexy and off limits — precisely in the same way your boyfriend’s kid sister is.
• To the cute bartender with the beard: you sir, make a great Tom Collins.
• Seriously, she hauled people on stage just to kiss them and tell them they were cute, then to kick them off, telling them to “get the fuckoutma game!” with a pat on the ass. She is like, the one woman second coming of Salt’n’Peppa, minus the new life in Christ.
• Deciding to crash at ex-crushes house: I have seen the future, and it is moisturizing cremes for a skin condition and YouTube videos in bed at 3:30 in the goddamned morning when I just want to sleeeeeeeeeeep. Let’s just consider that chapter closed, shall we?
• Jcup, you and I are having the same morning, re:un-attended cowlicks. (Metaphorically speaking, as my head is shaved.)
• Oh god, I am a zombie.
• Gayvid, bring it.

(via forwhenifeellikesharing)