Food Porn. Or…the Off-Brand Version

I’m not a very good cook.

Look, I’m not just trying to be humble, or cast out a fishing line in search of compliments and reassurance.

I really just have no patience for cooking, or interest in learning. Bad cooking is a curse that was bestowed upon my family, and unfortunately passed along to me. Just ask my dad, who kept Shake ‘n Bake in business during our childhood and made it popular long before Talladega Nights.

Or my grandma, who once almost burned down the kitchen on Thanksgiving.

This is a true story.

Anyone who knows me, or has to live with me (God bless you, Kathleen…) knows that I have plenty of talents, but culinary arts simply is not one of them.

But that doesn’t mean I don’t cook. I actually cook all the time. I’m just not necessarily proud of anything I make, nor would I ever dare to share it with someone else.

Anyway, as you can imagine, I’ve never been one of those people that takes pictures of my food. You know the type. Those people who make some sort of incredible paella dish or brunch feast, and document it on Instagram for everyone to see and envy? Those people that I half hate, half desperately want to invite me over for dinner once in awhile.

But bad cook nonetheless, I did start to wonder what it would look like if I was one of those take-pictures-of-their-meals people.

And here’s what happened.



For best results, add enough hot sauce to eliminate other flavors.



It didn’t burn!



Close enough.



I can’t remember what I meant for this to be.



Lettuce + dressing = salad!



The reason to have a roommate is for their leftovers splitting rent.



No dishes required.


Tuna Crackers

Or pair with crackers!



Ingredients for grilled cheese: some sort of bread, some sort of cheese, some sort of pan.















Just kidding, it’s from a cookbook.



The Daily Digest, Again

Ah, the Daily Digest. You may recall from my post a couple of months ago, where I discuss the Daily Digest, my apartment building’s daily wrap-up of the community message board.

For a long time during the winter, neighbors were complaining about the uncontrollable amounts of dog poop around the area. Which made for a lot of angry and passive aggressive posts, meaning LOTS of entertainment for the rest of us.

But now the weather is getting warmer, and people aren’t cooped up looking for something to complain about. Lately, all of the posts have been about selling furniture, watching the Bachelor finale, or seeing if “anyone is doing anything for St. Patrick’s Day because I’m a little lonely.”

Pretty mundane.

So the other night when I checked the Daily Digest and saw this rude, passive aggressive gem, I just knew I had to share it.

Here’s a quick recap: a resident in the building two blocks away from me apparently has been struggling with his noisy upstairs neighbors. What they’re making noise with, he doesn’t know, but he most certainly wants them to stop.

3/16/17 11:32 a.m.

Brendan Joyce writes:

To a 6th floor resident of Lucky Strike, I don’t know what you’re doing up there but please find a time sooner than 10:30-11:30 PM to:
a. Let your kids run and jump all over your apt/floor
b. Practice your bowling
c. Host soccer practice
d. Let your elephant out of its cage
e. Work on your, from the sound of it, terrible dance moves
f. All of the above
The 5th Floor

I’m not sure how this got resolved, or if it did, or if the bad-dancing, late-night-bowling, soccer-practicing, elephant-owning parents of wild children even saw this post. Unfortunately, us neighbors see the complaints but never find out how the incidents wind up.

But, if I had to guess, here’s what I imagine their response would be:

Dear Brendan Joyce and the rest of the 5th Floor,

First of all, we would like to sincerely apologize for the consistent disturbance of your 10:30-11:30 pm hour. We know that’s a crucial period in your late evening, and we recognize that you prefer complete silence at that time.

But here’s the thing. We’re busy, working people. We have full-time jobs, plus many extracurricular commitments outside of that. By the time we get home, cook dinner, and clean up the elephant poop, we barely have time to relax, unwind, and practice our various hobbies. So, we’ve determined that it works best for us to cram all of them into one hour, before heading to bed and starting the grind all over again.

So when 10:30 p.m. rolls around, we first let our pet elephant out of his cage (he’s been cooped up all day!). Then we get our kids out of the beds we just tucked them into and encourage them to run and jump all over our apt/floor. Next we roll out the bowling alley, and practice our strikes (last week my husband got a seven-ten split!). After that, all of our friends come over, and we host a quick pickup soccer game. It’s great bonding time, and our team is getting really good. Then when our friends leave, we throw on our tap shoes and work on our terrible dance moves. And once 11:30 strikes, we put everything away (including the elephant!) and call it a day. It’s quite an hour!

Anyway, Brendan, thank you for your inquiry about our late-night activities. We’ll certainly try to keep it down in the future, but unfortunately all of our hobbies are pretty boisterous, so I don’t know how successful we’ll be! Might I suggest earplugs?

Either way, please do let us know if you would ever like to join! You might even enjoy yourself!


A 6th Floor Resident of Lucky Strike



What St. Patrick’s Day Looks Like at 29 Years Old

Ah, St. Patrick’s Day. Technically it’s the day that Saint Patrick came to Ireland and saved a bunch of people or something. But in reality, we’ve managed to turn this into just another excuse to wear tacky outfits and get really drunk.

When I was younger, I will admit I was part of that population. For me, this holiday used to represent Irish car bombs, whiskey shots, four-leaf clover sunglasses, Guinness, and shirts that said things like, “Kiss My Blarney Stone,” all wrapped up in one day and topped off with lots of green-colored throw up.

Now that I’m in my late 20’s, however, St. Patrick’s Day has started to look a little different.

6:30 a.m. Alarm goes off. Hit snooze.

6:40 a.m. Alarm goes off again. Get up.

6:45 a.m. Get in the shower. Get dressed.

6:55 a.m. Leave for job at local independent coffee shop.

7:06 a.m. Arrive at aforementioned local independent coffee shop.

7:10 a.m. Brew and serve coffee for customer while thinking about coffee for yourself.

7:35 a.m. Coffee.

Continue the cycle of brewing, chatting, steaming, and pouring until your shift is over.

3:08 p.m. Grab keys and paycheck. Leave.

3:09 p.m. Drive to the bank.

3:21 p.m. Get to the bank and fill out deposit slip. Hand it to the teller with checks.

3:23 p.m. Smile and make stiff small talk.

3:25 p.m. Get back in your car. Drive to Kroger.

3:34 p.m. Arrive.

3:36 p.m. Pick out groceries. Smile and wave at all those random acquaintances you always run into.

4:23 p.m. Get home to your apartment building. Use your two bags of groceries as an excuse to take the elevator to the second floor instead of using the stairs.

4:27 p.m. Unpack groceries.

4:38 p.m. Go to the gym downstairs.

4:50 p.m. Get home.

4:59 p.m. Take a shower.

5:36 p.m. Make dinner.

6:14 p.m. Clean up dinner and the rest of the kitchen.

6:26 p.m. Vacuum apartment.

6:52 p.m. Turn on TV. Catch up on Netflix.

7:35 p.m. Look at the clock. Say “screw it” and put on pajamas.

8:05 p.m. Roommate comes home. Make small talk about each other’s days. Complain about the president.

8:32 p.m. Turn on bad reality TV.

9:07 p.m. Make popcorn for yourself and your roommate. Continue watching bad reality TV.

10:24 p.m. Look over at roommate. Ask, “Hey, wasn’t today St. Patrick’s Day?”


Hope everyone had a great St. Patrick’s Day. I simply can’t wait for next year.