When I’m alone at work all I basically do is think too hard.
And then I post on Facebook funny/lovely/touching/outrageous stories about my customers and the outcomes of my too-hard thinkings.
When I think of too many things to post (I try to limit myself to 2 Facebookings a day. I go over that limit about 360 days out of the year) I put them in a little file because I am strange and 420 characters is the perfect amount to tell a nice little story and happens to work perfectly for my mind and I am sort of in love with the form and I love my tiny little intensely-curated (I recently unfriended 150 people and it was AMAZING) safe Facebook space.
But it’s also ridiculous and I worry I annoy all my friends and customers with my over Facebookiness.
So here are some status updates I have no reason to post. Maybe I’ll just keep writing them in a file and will post them here in batches, in order to take a little FB break. I’ve got to put them somewhere—god forbid a thought stay in my head—so here they go.
- A few years ago I went to this restaurant that had something on the menu called “vegan french toast.” Jacob and I eagerly ordered it, and it turned out to be TOFU lightly battered and pan-fried like french toast. That kind of disregard for vegans’ taste buds still makes me so angry, years later, that I started shaking just thinking about it.
- This lady came in the other day and said she used to make croissants from scratch for a bakery in the ’80s. “They had three turns,” she said, all proud. I tried not to be condescending when I said, “Hmm. Interesting. Mine have six.” (Also—any time I do a house thing better than Jacob (almost never) I sing this song for the next 20 hours.)
- I once went to a restaurant (Alinea) so pristine that the kitchen was covered in wall-to-wall light gray plush carpeting. THE KITCHEN. And they don’t have a cleaning crew—the kitchen staff ensures the kitchen is spotless every night. That’s the level of cleanliness I aspire to.
- Where have all the eyebrows gone? Mine appear to be fighting a losing battle. Also: pubes.
- The other day I overheard someone say “I never eat meat, but if it’s local, and humanely raised, I don’t see any reason not to.” And I was just knocked backwards. Wow. The elision the mind is capable of. This otherwise thinking, caring person’s mind just willfully skipped over that one, teeny tiny, non “humane” step. I bit my tongue until it was raw not to say, “You cannot possibly be that stupid, can you?”
- ALL I WANTS IS SHIRTWAISTS.
- I don’t understand vegan hot dogs. Like: the best thing about being vegan is that you don’t have to eat hot dogs.
- I sort of feel this way about all protein except for tempeh bacon and beans. There is something wrong with me. I *literally* am a vegetarian. I do not eat anything but vegetables. And fruit. And croissants.
- Totally just confused two customers. HOW MANY JESSICAS MUST I BE MADE TO REMEMBER?
- Will I ever be comfortable around people who didn’t grow up poor and scared and ashamed of their insides? The minute I find out someone had a happy childhood, I get freaked out by them.
- This is so odd, but: watching Reno 911 is the closest depiction of large swaths of my childhood experience I’ve ever experienced. Everyone happy in their mobile home, no one renovating their kitchen or going to college. All people wanted was beer and drugs and a busted lawn chair to sit in and watch their lives go by. Surrender was easiest.
- Sometimes I amuse myself when I’m alone at work by thinking up mean little jokes about vegetarians. Is this awful? Like: “What’s worse than a vegetarian? Nothing!” and “What’s it like the have sex with a vegetarian? They only go halfway in.” and “Vegetarians do everything halfway because they are too stupid to understand the reality of the situation.” Ok maybe that last one isn’t too funny.
- Pringles and pistachio praline, while beautifully alliterative, is perhaps not the best thing to have eaten all day.
- For a while there, American Analog Set and Low was all I needed. Sometimes, at maybe 2 am when I’m pulling batch after batch of matzo toffee out of the oven and the world is shushed and serene, just the rhythm of measuring sugar and rotating pans, they still do just fine.
- For better or worse, and I really really think it’s best, my addiction to rage and love for far-left politics (not to mention swear words) always trumps my also-pretty-awesome business acumen, thus nicely limiting my business and keeping it in check. It’s a perfect system, really.