SHOCKER VIRAL LISTICLE CONTENT VOLUME ONE: THE TOP TEN THINGS IN MY FRIDGE RIGHT NOW
Wow how is everyone doing? I want to play Pillars of Eternity Right now but I told myself I wouldn’t do it unless I wrote something today. Unfortunately, my brain is shit the fuck out of ideas for things to write! But fortunately, when I was worrying about this and also worrying the fact that my goddamn doctor is doing everything he can to make sure I take a half-dose of Zoloft today and making what I like to call “A Light anxiety snack,” and also worrying about other things (See: is my Pateron doing well enough? Am I working enough? Is this headache normal, or am I already having SSRI withdrawals, or is it CLEARLY psychosomatic?), I saw that, hey, I have food in my kitchen and I could just write about that. That counts, right? That’s writing?
TEN: LARGE BOWL OF WATERMELON SITTING ON COUNTER
This Watermelon is merely “Pretty good,” not viciously juicy the way I like it. It is also room temperature on account of sitting out overnight, which is maybe a little gross if you’re prudish, but it’s basically fine I think. Honestly a blast of cold would do wonders for the sensory experience of this bad boy, more than anything having to do with, like, germs or whatever, but then again, maybe there is a reason I, and all humans, have evolved to prefer cold day-old watermelon to lukewarm day old watermelon, and perhaps all my ancestors who took a risk similar to the one I have taken died from Watermelon bug, Watermelon worm, RindVirus, or some other such thing.
NINE: MAYO
It’s eggs and oil and when you put shit into it, it becomes aioli, baby. Also I just got a call from my doctor’s office and I gotta say, they are bending themselves in fucking half to make sure I don’t get Zoloft today and there’s a real possibility I was more than a little rude to the lady on the phone and I had to apologize because I could FEEL MYSELF turning into a prick, especially when she was like “Well we could take 72 Hours, we could do that” because c’mon get the fuck outta here, you’re not gonna take 72 hours, I know that, and if you did it would RUIN MY FUCKING WEEKEND because I would get SSRI withdrawal and that shit would blow ass, so like don’t even say that because I’m just gonna get more anxious about it, lady.
EIGHT: ROOIBOS TEA
It’s tea. It tastes earthy. I doesn’t taste as good as Tea-tea, but, anxiety, Zoloft, remember, I can’t drink that shit. I tried once and almost immediately started getting MAD anxiety. It’s honestly a fucking bummer I love the taste of tea and I would love to coat my extremely refined palette with its myriad varieties but I can’t, I have to drink shrub brush when I’m hunting for a good hot drink instead.
SEVEN: BAG PEPPERS
Hell yeah baby, it’s little peppers in a bag. Dunk these motherfuckers in bleu cheese and you’re in party town, right away. Or you could cook them, or maybe the lady at the Clinic could realize that, if I was trying to hustle her out of drugs, that I would set my sights a little higher than fucking SSRIs, which are like, functionally impossible to abuse? Who is chopping up fucking levelbrainpills and snorting them, exactly? What would you call DOING that even? Loftin’? Zaccin? Tellexin’? C’MON LADY!
SIX: FLOUR TORTILLAS
It’s tillas, baby! You can wrap stuff in these, or stick… cheese between them and then cook them to make different foods. Sort of like when you have a brain, and then you add a pill that gives it more serotonin, and that makes the brain taste better?
FIVE: HONEY
Tea. Bread. Soups. It doesn’t matter, baby, honey is ALWAYS welcome to the fucking party! This honey is honey from where I live, which apparently helps with allergies, which I have, in addition to an anxiety disorder. Unfortunately, I cannot take honey for my anxiety disorder. I need to take Zoloft for that, which honey is not.
FOUR: GRAPES!
These grapes are cold and wet and I love popping a hand full of them into my mouth and washing them down with water so they go into my tummy and dissolve and make more serotonin go into my brain. No, wait: that’s Zoloft I’m thinking about, not grapes.
THREE: OFF-BRAND FLAVORED SPARKLING WATER
I stopped drinking soda when I went to college because it seemed like a pretty easy way to get even fatter than I am, and then I didn’t drink anything out of a can for a long time. But, like everyone else, I got into flavored sparkling water recently, which fucking rules. When I have a day when I am supposed to do a bunch of work, sometimes I will want to eat a bunch because, hey, eating, super fun, better than work, which makes me really anxious. The only methadone for this particular anxiety coping mechanism is cold-as-shit sparkling water. I crack it open, head the HISS CRACK, stick that bad boy on my lips and feel the COOL RUSH OF BUBBLES hit my tongue and for a second, I am transported back to childhood, when I would drink soda out of a can all the goddamn time, and I would forget about the thing I’m either dutifully writing or putting off writing, and just feel fine for a second, not like there’s a goddamn anvil sitting over my head, sitting, waiting to crush me, and break my brain forever and kill me.
TWO: TIE: PEAR BUTTER AND WALNUT BREAD
This is like apple butter, but made with pears instead. It’s good as fuck, especially on top of a hot, toasty slice of Trifecta’s Walnut bread.
Look at those fat walnuts, just like a brain in construction, sitting every so peacefully in a gooey membrane of bread, just floating there, not a concern in the world. Or, perhaps, I am wrong, and the walnut suffers as my mind does, sitting in the shell and wondering what its purpose will be, only to be cracked open and devoured by my mouth, a kind of Social Darwinian prison, much like the one I occasionally feel I myself am inside, the teeth of the universe throwing down on my brain, which is too fucking stupid and broken to figure out how to dodge them, or, god, forbid, build a fucking support system to keep the mouth from closing, and has to, instead, settle for being flooded with serotonin, the Pear Butter of the mind, so they can come crushing and it can just ACCEPT IT, chilling in peace with teeth piercing, accepting the fate the universe drew up for me, a living being, the second I started growing on that tree.
ONE: EGGS
I mean I had to do it. They’re the best food on Earth, and essential protein when you’re a vegetarian who is allergic to soy. Keep three cartons around because I couldn’t even imagine what would happen if I were to run out and then have no method of getting more without some arcane permission from a doctor or a psychiatrist. I have to remain prepared.
