At this point, I've come to terms with the fact that I'll probably never finish writing a novel -- particularly over the span of a NaNoWriMo. I am very keenly aware that, at the rate that I've been writing, I'm not even likely to complete a NaNoBloPoMo (or whatever it's called). But I can find many, many things to be grateful about this month, and so I will make an effort to post them. One for each day this month, just maybe not every day. And, of course, I'm starting late.
It's November 4th, so here are four:
1. This face.
The real Cookie Monster.
2. The fact that my husband didn't make fun of me when I told him that I generally prefer Van Halen with Sammy Hagar and not David Lee Roth.
Before my husband and I got married, we discussed our vows, and agreed that the foundation of our marriage is that we both promise to try to not be an asshole to the other. When we looked in each other's eyes on the beach while repeating back the minister's words, that is what we meant. We may have said a lot of words, but that was our only promise. It's a promise that we can both keep.
That brings me to New Years' resolutions. I hate them for that very reason: they are promises that are not likely to be kept. I've said so before. But every year, better judgment notwithstanding, there are always a few things that I promise myself that I am going to do better.
This year, there are three of them: (1) Be healthier; (2) Be better with money; and (3) Try not to accumulate things that I don't need.
There's some overlap. If we eat healthier, home-cooked meals, we are likely to save money. If I don't buy things we don't need, we will also save money. Still, all of this is a challenge.
My husband and I have been good over the past eight days. We've made healthy meals, gone out less frequently -- and ordered more salads when we have. I think I've eaten more vegetables in the past 8 days than in the past 8 months! And, other than a cute outfit for the baby (on clearance at Babies-R-Us!), a toy or two for her (now that she's almost 6 months, the toys are way better!), and some (clearance!) ornaments for our Pagan Winter Solstice Shrubbery, I haven't really bought anything that was not addressing some kind of immediate need. I mean, maybe we didn't need quite so many boxes of oatmeal...but they were on sale and we will eat it, sooner rather than later.
I'm also going to try two different approaches to save a little bit extra cash. In one savings account, I am going to save $1 per day, for a total of $365 (duh!). In another, I am going to save $1 the first week, $2 the second week, $3 the third week...and so on, for a grand total of $1378. Not sure yet what I'm going to do with that $1743, but I hear that college will be very expensive in 2030. (Sigh.)
Usually, my boyfriend has to get up very early for work. This morning, he did not have to be in until 10, so he made me very cute eggs and peppers for breakfast. He is very good at sneaking vegetables into my diet.
Right before I left, I told him that one of the things I loved most about him was that I am confident that, in the event of a zombie invasion or apocalypse, he will protect me and our theoretical future children. He then started planning our theoretical future weapons cache.
I have a little sniffle today, so I left work early, took some medicine, and climbed into bed. Upon waking, I was craving soup. And so, I ordered Chinese food -- mostly won-ton soup -- from a relatively new place near my neighborhood. The food is decent and relatively cheap, plus they take credit card, which is important to someone like me, who always seems to have a ton of cash or none at all.
In theory, I should be pretty easy to understand: I speak loudly and clearly and I don't really have a regional accent. (I worked really hard to get rid of my New Jersey accent when we moved to Florida when I was 12, and I've been largely successful.) Plus, I spell.
I've ordered from this place twice now, and both times, the same thing happened. The girl on the phone takes my order, repeats it and my address back to me. She seems to have it perfect. Still, 20 minutes later, I get a phone call from the delivery driver -- with even worse English -- who is at a different building, on a different street, about half a mile away. He insists that I gave the wrong address, or that the street he is at is the street that my condo is on. I barely understand a word he is saying. He keeps saying something about a hotel. No, it's not a hotel, it's a condo. After about 10 minutes of me trying to figure out what he is saying and spelling my street address for him, finally, he seems to understand. Eventually, the food gets here. The delivery driver keeps showing me the printed receipt, which shows a different address from the one I gave on the phone.
And so, next time, I'm ordering from somewhere else.
Today's topic is my views on drugs and alcohol. Like almost everything else I've written during this exercise, it pretty much boils down to "Don't tell me what to do and I won't tell you what to do" and "moderation."
I occasionally have a drink; when I was younger, I drank more. I've always tried to be careful about not drinking and driving, and not drinking so much that I've done anything that I could regret. I won't say that I've been perfect: back when I was younger, I didn't really control my drinking as much as I could have or should have. Some people might have some really funny stories -- provided, of course, that they were sober enough to remember. But on the other hand, I know plenty of people that really overdo it, and, in comparison, my indiscretions have been small.
Now that I've gotten older, I've figured out that moderation is the key. I like the occasional drink -- although I keep way more alcohol in the house than I will ever drink. (Note to self: throw more parties.) As far as behavioral concerns, my general view is that you need to be able to control your habits so that you don't hurt yourself or others. And you need to be able to stop if necessary: once the habit becomes so all-consuming that it affects your relationships, your career, or your health, you should probably reconsider it. If you can't stop, you should get help.
As for drugs? I generally believe that people are adults and drugs should be legalized and regulated -- and heavily taxed -- much like alcohol and tobacco. People should be allowed to rot whatever brain cells they choose to rot, provided they're not hurting anyone but themselves. This is basic survival-of-the-fittest.
Today I'm supposed to write about "something or someone you couldn’t live without, because you’ve tried living without it."
I have two.
1. Caffeine. As early as high school, I pretty much lived on Diet Coke and coffee. By the time I graduated from law school, I was drinking two or three cups of coffee in the morning, and cans of Diet Coke the rest of the day. I couldn't function without it: I was addicted. So, in 2002, I decided to give up all caffeine -- cold turkey.
Giving up coffee was the easy part. But soda, tea, and chocolate? I lasted six weeks. I started back with a little bit of chocolate and the occasional green tea in the afternoon. And then the Diet Coke. But I stayed off coffee for years -- until my nephew was born in 2009. I was getting my sister a Dunkin' Donuts iced coffee, and I couldn't resist the siren call. I still don't need it the way I used to, but I definitely like having it back in my life, in moderation.
2. Red meat. Remember last summer when I had my little project where I gave up all meat and poultry for 30 days? The first few days were relatively easy, so I kept going. Eventually, though, I got really anemic. Plus, I remembered that I really like meat. So, once again, I reverted. I don't eat a lot of it, but I won't ever rule it out either. Again, it turns out that, for me, moderation is the key.
For some reason, I got it in my head that I needed to bake hamantaschen for Purim. Forget that I hadn't been feeling well -- forget that I was busy with work -- forget that I had no time -- forget that I had absolutely no idea what I was doing. These cookies demanded to be made.
So I acquired a recipe from a friend, and on Sunday night -- the day after Purim -- I made the dough, which was the easy part. And then I struggled to make the triangle shapes. That night I used about half of the dough, filled most of the cookies with nutella and a few with strawberry jam -- and watched a bunch of soggy triangles emerge from the oven. Strike one. I put the rest of the dough back in the refrigerator overnight.
The next evening I tried again. I took just a small bit of dough and rolled it out less thinly. I used a juice glass to cut out a half-dozen circles, filled them with black raspberry preserves, and pinched them into triangles. Much better, but the shape still needed work. Strike two.
So, with about a third of the dough left, I tried again the next night. Instead of rolling out the dough and using a cookie cutter, I rolled the dough into a log, as if it was the Pillsbury ready-to-bake cookie dough, and used a knife to slice it into quarter-inch circles. I filled half with nutella and half with lingonberry jam from Ikea. I folded them into triangles using the pinwheel method I read about on the internet.
I baked them for the perfect amount of time, until they were just barely golden brown.
The result was magnificent -- especially the lingonberry ones. Home run!
When I tasted them, I thought about my great-grandmother. When I was little -- essentially still a toddler -- I used to "help" her in the kitchen when she baked jelly cookies -- kosher jelly cookies. I think that's why I like to bake so much, even though neither my mother or my Nana were bakers.
And I know it's impossible for me to really remember the taste of those jelly cookies, but I imagine that these were pretty close.
At the beginning of the month, I embarked on an adventure: I decided to give up all meat and poultry for one month.
I had a couple of reasons for doing this. The most important reason was that I've been trying to be healthier since my mom died, and I thought that a mostly vegetarian diet would be healthy. But honestly, the idea only occurred to me after reading some literature about how meat is not particularly good for the environment.
So I decided to try it out.
The results have been mixed. Ultimately, I didn't lose any weight, and I may have gained a pound or two. I don't feel any healthier, and in fact, before I started taking an iron supplement, my anemia was so bad that, for a couple of days, I was barely functioning.
My conclusions:
1. I have no problem giving up poultry. I did not crave it at all during the entire month. I can't say the same thing about red meat. 2. I really like fish, and, despite eating it all month, I have yet to get bored of it. There are a lot of varieties and a lot of options on how to prepare it. 3. Even keeping a mostly-vegetarian diet, I don't eat enough vegetables. 4. I eat way too much cheese. It's probably my favorite food. 5. I really don't eat a lot of shellfish. I don't order it in restaurants very often, and I don't cook it in my house -- except for lobster ravioli from the Italian Store. 6. Actually, I really don't cook anything in my house. Even with watching my diet, I only cooked in the house about 8 times during the entire month. 7. Cupcakes are not a healthy dinner.
So, am I going to stay pescetarian? Probably not. The siren call of steak will, ultimately, be too hard to resist -- but I'm not rushing to eat it either. I think what that means is that I'm going to limit my meat and poultry consumption, now that I know that I don't have to eat it every day.
If you go to a moderately-sized, reasonably-priced restaurant in a relatively busy part of the city on a Friday night at 6:00, and you are practically the only people in the restaurant, there is a high probability that the food is going to stink.
For a girl who spent a good chunk of her life in Florida, I am surprisingly anti-citrus. (And don't get me started on orange juice -- unless it's fresh squeezed, I can barely tolerate it.) There are pretty much only two kinds of citrus fruit that I bother with -- honeybell (or minneola) tangelos, and clementines. I'm not entirely sure why these are it for me, but it might have something to do with sentiment: My grandfather used to ship the former to me as a Hanukkah present, and the latter were the kind that my mother preferred when filling up Christmas stockings.
Anyway, when I went to Morocco two years ago, the food was generally average, except for one thing: the little tiny oranges that they put out at the hotel breakfast buffets. These oranges were consistently exceptional -- so consistently that I would grab two or three of them and snack on them throughout the day.
So today, while doing a bit of grocery shopping in Whole Foods, I noticed this:
To you, it might look like an ordinary run of the mill box of clementines. But to me, it's a yummy little reminder of North Africa.
I very rarely write about former relationships because I was taught that it's not nice to speak ill of the dead. (Just kidding! Or am I . . . .) No really, what I was taught is that if you can't say anything nice, you shouldn't say it at all. And while that rule doesn't apply to when I am sitting around with friends and family trading what seem to be witty barbs, it certainly applies to a written medium, and even more so to one that's as permanent as the internet.
But I keep thinking that there's something inherently comedic in this last breakup. Mostly because (1) I really didn't see it coming at all and (2) the location. And as someone who self-identifies as a writer, I can't get it out of my head without getting it down on paper. It plays out like a screenplay:
Enter scene. Urban IHOP, rainy evening. Girl walks into restaurant, in long coat, umbrella and shopping bags in hand. Sees boyfriend sitting at table, and goes over to him, grabs his hand.
I'm not sure whether it's because of my profession or in spite of it, but for some reason, I have evolved into a particularly non-confrontational person. Unless it's of dire importance, I generally let things go -- or, at worst, passive-aggressively complain after the fact.
So, if, for example, someone cuts in front of me in a line, my general reaction is to let them do it. Sometimes I'll turn to the person behind me and say something loud enough for others to hear like "I don't understand why people think they're too important to wait in line," but more often than not, I'll just let it happen and quietly stew.
On Friday, however, I stood up for myself. I was on line to put my name on the list for a table at a busy (and somewhat overrated) restaurant about 90 minutes before the Coldplay concert. Some girl pushed in front of me to get to the hostess stand. Initially I thought that they had called her name for a table, but when she got up to the front, she was putting her name on the list -- the same thing I had been waiting to do, the same thing the girl in front of me had been waiting to do.
It only took me a second to decide to put an end to it. I took a step over to the side and said "Did you actually just push me out of the way to put your name on the list?"
She said, "Oh, I didn't know I did that."
I said "How did you not realize it when you physically pushed me out of the way?"
The hostess had no choice. She took the name of the girl that was really in line in front of me, and then my name. The girl who cut in front? Well, she didn't get her name on the list, and left in a huff, clearly embarrassed.
And I felt vindicated. Maybe I should stand up for myself more often.
DSL asked -- well, sort-of asked -- "I would ask if you've ever had jeans hemmed, but you live in VA".
I fail to see why living in Virginia would make me more or less likely to have had jeans hemmed. But this I do know: When getting jeans hemmed, you should have them take off the cuffs and then reattach them so they look right.
DSL also asked, "Why did you never tell me what you thought of contra dancing?"
Partly because you posted it as a comment on the other blog, the one I haven't updated in weeks. But mostly because you didn't really ask me. Not in person, anyway.
Violindan asked, "Dara, what do you think DSL's random, forgotten question was?"
Miss Scarlet asked three questions: (1) What would be your perfect vacation? (2) Do you like pickles? olives? onions? (3) Do you agree that fall is awesome?
(1) I thought that driving up the California coast was a pretty amazing vacation, close to perfect. But I love to go to new places. Right now, I think I'd love to take a tour of Italy or Australia or go to Japan, Thailand/Cambodia, or China, or go to Argentina and drink a lot of Malbec.
(2) I love pickles. Especially half-sours. I like some olives, especially in martinis. As for onions, I generally only like them when they're cooked, but I do love the pearl onions that they put into martinis.
(3) Fall is awesome: Not only was I born in the fall, but I love fall colors. But, to be honest, I spent way too much of my life living in Florida to be that keenly excited about the colder weather. As long as the daytime temperature stays between 70-80, I'm fine.
Sara asked, "What is you all time favorite comfort food and will you share the recipe?"
In all honesty, my favorite comfort food is mac and cheese, and when I make it it's out of the blue box. I do love Noodles & Company's take on it, though -- and eat it way too much.
As for things that I make, the closest thing that I have that is not a cookie is my Nana's recipe for Tuna Noodle Casserole -- and it's the easiest thing in the world. One bag of egg noodles, two cans of tuna in oil, two cans of cream of mushroom soup, one can of peas (drained) and some breadcrumbs and butter. Boil the noodles, and mix everything together in a casserole dish, then sprinkle the breadcrumbs on top and dot with the butter. Bake in the oven at 350 for 30 minutes or so, or until it is browned on top but not too crispy.
TINGB asked "Which is the worst of the "Viva Viagra!" commercials I'm forced to endure during every commercial break of the baseball playoffs?"
All of them, my dear, all of them. Any time they show any commercial about anything to do with erectile dysfunction, I cringe. For me and for society in general.
Peter wrote to me via Facebook: "Dear Ask Dara: Tonight should I watch the Vice Presidential debate or my Forgetting Sarah Marshall DVD from Netflix? On the one hand, even though I've heard that the movie is hilarious, the debate might be funnier (I enjoy dark comedy). But, if I don't watch my Netflix DVD and return it immediately, I will not be getting the most value for my money out of Netflix."
Peter, If you are really limited to one or the other, I'd flip a coin -- heads debate, tails movie. The debate is likely to be scary funny, and it is very important, but it lacks plot. The movie is very very funny, but it isn't THAT important to trade in your movies right away (this from someone who has had the same movie since August).
Of course, the better answer is a compromise: stay up late and watch Forgetting Sarah Marshall after the debate.
But whatever you do, just make sure the kids are asleep before you start the movie.
Then Anna wrote: "Dear Dara, Should I give in to my husband's demands that I stay up late for the ten cents savings of watching all Netflix DVDs immediately? Besides I hate Sarah Marshall."
Anna, Forgetting Sarah Marshall is a very funny movie. It's worth it. But in general, I'm with you on the Netflix thing. One extra day ain't gonna break the budget.
(Ed. Note: Then Anna wrote "Um, Actually I just learned Sarah Marshall and Sarah Silverman are different people." So I think it made her decision easier.)
If Biden: • refers to John McCain as "a friend" or someone he respects just before trashing him. • tries in any way to justify the complete failure that is Amtrak. • has to explain what his son did for a living after law school. • says any of the following: "climate change," "biofuels," "green," "ethanol," "drilling," "Big Oil," or "Bridge to Nowhere." • refers to Palin's recent interview with Katie Couric. • exceeds his time limit. • mentions the number of years of experience he has. • makes any allusions to the pregnancy of Palin's daughter Bristol. • displays righteous anger. • suggests a title for Larry Flynt's Sarah Palin-themed adult film.
If Palin: • invokes McCain's POW history • mentions her husband or any of her children by name (make it a double if she says "Track in Iraq"). • says any of the following: "pitbull," "lipstick," "hockey mom," "Joe Six-Pack," "maverick," "barracuda," "glass ceiling," or "plagiarism." • says "gosh," "gee," "golly," "darn," "heck" or any other homespun curse euphemism. • evades answering a question. • cries poverty. • is actually carrying a firearm. • cites Russia's proximity to Alaska or talks about her great love for the state of Israel in response to a question about foreign policy (been there, done that!). • mentions by name any animal species native to her home state. • is wearing a suit that costs more than her plane.
If either candidate: • says any of the following: "change," "God," "hope," "Beltway," "insider," "lobbyist," "energy," or "Bush." • says "Delaware" or "Alaska" in a funny accent to sound folksy. • invokes the specter of Hillary Clinton's presidential campaign. • actually curses. • says "Wall Street" and "Main Street" in the same sentence. • uses hyperbole to talk about the current financial crisis. • says, "Let me finish." • mispronounces the name of a world leader. • milks the crowd for applause. • mentions Tina Fey.
I am sure that I will have one heck of a headache tomorrow.
I went to my last baseball game of the season tonight. It was a crappy game -- the Nats lost to the Marlins big time, and almost none of the big name players, to the extent there are any, even took the field. And it was cold.
I left early.
This is unusual for me: I almost always stay until the end of the game -- regardless of score or weather or a dearth of stars. But tonight, in addition to the crappy game, I was annoyed by two things -- people actually -- and just wanted to get the heck out of Dodge.
First of all, our seats are right near this guy that I refer to as "Baseball Wesley Willis." For the uninformed, Wesley Willis was a 300 pound schizophrenic dude who wrote these crazy little songs performed on a Casio keyboard. He is probably most famous for "I Wupped Batman's Ass" -- which is quite possibly the best song of all time.
Okay, I kid. But it's pretty friggin' hilarious. And awesome.
Anyway, Baseball Wesley Willis does his own version of performance art. He stands up, holds either a beer bottle or a pen in front of his mouth as if it were a microphone, and shouts "Can I have your attention please?" and announces each and every pitching change or pinch hitter, and then either (1) makes a joke about their name; (2) comments on the weather or the stadium concessions; or (3) says something unintelligible that sounds like "Oulet creuset boulet boulet."
He apparently started doing this at the old stadium, where the loudspeakers weren't so good. But in the new stadium, where people can actually hear the announcer and read the scoreboard, he is just, well, annoying and loud.
This is even more so since he has taken to doing this while standing right in front of me.
I try to ignore him, thinking maybe he'll go away or stand somewhere else. But the asinine people around me seem to think it's a novelty act, and applaud him -- and he keeps doing it.
Grrrr.
But it gets worse. Today, in addition to Baseball Wesley Willis, there was a girl sitting right behind us who shreiked, approximately once per inning, at the very top of her lungs.
This was not a particularly little girl -- I would guess that she was somewhere between 7 and 10, which means that she was old enough to know better. And her parents were sitting there right there next to her -- but NOT ONCE did either of them do anything to stop this.
In fact, they didn't seem to mind -- not even when people looked at her (and them) in sheer annoyance. If it were my kid, I'd have been mortified.
Anyway, I'd like to thank these people for letting their jackassery totally ruin my last baseball game of the season. But not all was lost: I came home tonight to an email from TINGB, forwarding this article:
Hot Dogs Force Evacuation At Citizens Bank Park
PHILADELPHIA (CBS 3) ― The discovery of several hot dogs in packages outside Citizens Bank Park brought the bomb squad out and forced the temporary evacuation of the stadium Wednesday evening.
According to police, Pattison Street between Darien and 11th Streets was shutdown as officials investigated the discovery of several suspicious packages near a ticket office.
Fans inside the stadium were evacuated, but players remained on the field during the incident.
Bomb squad members further investigated the packages and determined they were simply several hot dogs in foil wrappers. Sadly, the wieners were detonated as a precaution.
The stadium was reopened at about 5:20 p.m.
"It was clear from when we looked at it at first glance and when you looked at the debris afterwards, there was packaging and duct tape; I don't see many hot dogs sold here with duct tape," Phillies VP of Operations Michael Stiles said. "We just did what we felt was appropriate."
The Phillies take on the Atlanta Braves at 7:05 p.m. on Wednesday evening.
I guess my night could have been worse: No one had to detonate my hot dog.
I've been planning on drinking my bottle of 1985 Perrier-Jouët Fleur de Champagne for a long time. And what better reason to do it than to to toast to my new status as a homeowner? But then I had to drive through traffic to get home from the closing, and I walked into the apartment, and almost immediately had to evacuate because of a fire alarm.
Grrr.
When I finally got back upstairs, I changed out of my suit, read my email, and laid down to watch the news/take a nap.
About 90 minutes later, when the phone rang, I woke up. I was going to celebrate after all.
On first taste, the champagne was a little yeasty and strong. The color was very dark, more like honey than straw. It probably should have been aged somewhere other than my refrigerator for the last six years. But after the bottle was opened and started to air out, it got better. The second glass went down smoothly -- especially with a black-and-white cookie.
The rest of the bottle was equally good. Of course, it probably would have been better had I eaten something more substantial first. Because when I went to go eat later, my stomach did not want to cooperate.
I could have done without the being sick, the lying down in the middle of my living room before 10 pm -- I refused to get up and evacuate during the second fire alarm of the evening, even after my partner in drinking put flip-flops on my feet -- and the massive headache when I woke up at 5 am. But drinking a very expensive and rare bottle of champagne? Awesome.
And it's not over yet: There will be more drinking at tonight's shindig, in which we will be saying goodbye to the old apartment. I can hardly wait.
Right now, my brother's neighbors are outside lighting off fireworks and talking really loudly in Spanish. The fireworks -- not the Spanish -- is driving most of the neighborhood dogs crazy, but my brother's roommate's dog is as cool as a cucumber.
So far, it's been a pretty busy 24 hours. Last night, after my flight landed, we went straight from the train station to grab food and then out to a bar where a bunch of my brother's friends seem to hang out. He knew about half the people in the bar, one of whom was painting glow-in-the-dark fake tattoos on people.
Here's mine:
I sort-of wanted to keep it, but eventually, my brother managed to convince me to shower.
This morning, we went for brunch at this awesome bakery that had the coolest cakes ever in the display window out front.
Then we went shopping, and on the way, saw this sign, which I thought was funny, and which my brother thought was perfectly normal:
Oh, and the shopping -- we went to Chinatown so my brother could pick up some kind of herbal medicine -- which loosely translates to the "Four Horsemen" and is meant to cure his spleen. No kidding. I got a bunch of fortune cookies -- normal and chocolate -- and fresh baked almond cookies -- all for under $3.00. And a picture of Confucius.
While in Houston this weekend, I went to the Rodeo. (Well, to the livestock show and carnival part at least.) We rode the giant ferris wheel, which was named "La Grande Wheel." More importantly, baby cows and goats are cute.
I wore the black and gold dress, option #1, to the wedding. It was not as cute as I would have liked, probably because I drank too many margaritas at the rehearsal dinner the night before. But the casual dress I wore to the rehearsal dinner was really cute and totally fit with the Tex-Mex theme.
I am back in Newark, but only for a day. The hotel cookies seemed to be chocolate chunk, but I did not investigate closely, as I am trying to be good. Especially now that I've made a bet with my dad that if he could lose 20 pounds by Father's Day, so could I. So, to win, when I get back to D.C., I'm going to start the "Couch to 10K" running plan that everyone says is so great.
I've never been shy about my OCD. Admittedly, it's never been formally diagnosed, but it's one of those things where I know it, and pretty much everyone who knows me knows it -- and as long as it's not posing a risk to me or anyone else, what's the point of getting a doctor's confirmation?
Today, in his chat, Gene Weingarten had a poll asking people to choose their favorite candy from the following choices: Tootsie Rolls, Hershey's Kisses, Milk Duds, Raisinets, M&Ms.
I chose M&M's. (Raisinets would be my least favorite, but only slightly more so than Milk Duds.) I didn't even have to think about it. I love M&Ms. Particularly peanut M&Ms.
Then I read this:
Savannah, Ga. by way of Washington, D.C.: M&M's are clearly the superior candy. Not only are they delicious, but if you're even mildly OCD they can provide good entertainment. I like to eat the green ones first.
Gene Weingarten: You are the third OCD person who has expressed an affinity for m&ms in part because of their sortability.
I find this impossibly... odd.
Hmmm. Could it be that my love of M&Ms has something to do with how I love to put them into piles? So, I decided to do a little experiment. Here, in full color, is a slideshow of how I like to eat M&Ms:
I kid you not: This is what I do with every single package of M&Ms, every single time. (Well, to the extent that "every single time" means "whenever I have the opportunity to take them out of the package and inspect/organize them first.")
Still, I can't help but feeling that the craziest thing about this is that I took the time to take the pictures.
