yet, the spaghetti squash is a mystery. i cut it in half. and i was annoyed at first by the seemingly small amount of edible flesh in the center of the spaghetti squash, along with the huge pain it became to pick the seeds out of the middle. however, after it was cooked and i went to scrape out those measly strings, i discovered that ALL of the spaghetti squash is edible. there is no hard crusty hull like on a watermelon. you don't have to pick the seeds out of the center one at a time. once you stick the fork in, the flesh gives way to string after string after string. who knew!? and how does the spaghetti squash get like that anyway, when it looks smooth and flat and normal when you cut it in half? will it string up like that even before you cook it? and side note: is there any way to soften it up if it comes out a little crunchy? betty crocker left me ill-prepared to confront the magic of the spaghetti squash.
this seemingly insignificant foray into uncharted vegetables reminds me that there's a lot more mystery in the world than i realize.
#2: laughlin, nevada. aaron and i escaped to little vegas for MLK day in honor of our own dreams ... of a world where we are free to exist as the young, intelligent, progressive individuals we are without being bogged down by things like stop lights, administrators, the wintry mix, and taxes -- not the white man per se, just THE MAN in general.
laughlin was great. i love the old slot machines, where you get to physically drop in your coin and pull the handle. and i find the clink-clink-clink of my $1.25 winnings immensely satisfying. they are rare these days, but i did have luck at the pioneer -- the subtle building with the giant neon cowboy on top who perpetually winks at you. creepy. i was also rewarded in toting my winnings -- in the form of about 100 quarters -- around in my purse from place to place thereafter.however, the whole place is WEIRD. laughlin is like a flashy, waterfront retirement home full of little old men wearing fanny packs and stooped-over old ladies pushing their walkers with buckets full of quarters perched precariously on top. but what possesses geriatrics to flock to don green plastic poker hats and congregate in smoke-filled rooms? is it the lure of the $3.99 breakfast buffet? or the dream of winning enough for a posh retirement? perhaps within the walls of the colorado belle itself? side note: i truly believe this is possible when you compare the glorious
colorado belle hotel at $16 per night (+ free frozen margaritas as long as you're perched at the penny slots and a built-in krispy kreme) with the insane expense of a boring, white nursing home. is it the fact that they can buy big white tube socks out of the vending machine? or do all their christmas shopping in between roulette at the world famous watchman's timepiece outlet during the baker's dozen buy-12-get-1-free sale?mysterious.
#3: MTV true life. i learned on howard today that MTV is soliciting people for it's next reality tv show, true life: i hate my breasts. not only do you have to be insanely unhappy with a body part that unfortunately spends most of its life wrapped up in wires held together by spandex blends, but you have to be interested in non-surgical solutions. (i also learned on howard that some girl in europe is facing murder charges after her husband died from injuries she inflicted. when she poured a flammable liquid on his balls. and set him on fire. subsequently burning down her $700,000 home. and endangering their three children who were all home during the event. let's give her a break though -- she didn't mean to kill him. only to punish him. ha.) but seriously, is this real? what is a non-surgical solution to flat-chestedness?! or one breast being twice the size of another? or having hairy nipples? which, by the way, aaron and i recently learned on family fued is an even more unpopular place to find a hair than on your toothbrush. we did not win the jackpot that round.
now *alert* too much information to immediately follow this colon: i am intimately familiar with the pain and suffering that accompanies flat-chestedness. my distress must've peaked in fifth grade or so, because that was the only year that i took the time to fold up tissues and put them in my completely unnecessary bra, adding a completely necessary 1/4 inch to my virtually non-existent bust line. i suppose the allure of greg parrish's luke-perry-esque hair swoop was too much for me. now, however, i'm gleefully able to co-exist bralessly in this hippie mountain town while retaining a modicum of decency.
admittedly, i still perceive other physical flaws in myself. and even though i can play the what-if-you-HAD-to-have-plastic-surgery-what-would-you-get game with karrie for a long while (bootie implants), i do not look at jennifer lopez with such lust that i sign myself up for major plastic surgery on MTV's i want a famous face. although i have been known to watch the freak show in awe.
i have to wonder though -- are my AAs the only thing that's holding me back from realizing all my wildest dreams? mystery.
#4: a wild ass eating out of a shiny red cadillac in oatman, arizona.
although i'm unconvinced that this needs a ton of explanation, oatman is a little route 66 town in the middle of nowhere known for the wild asses that roam freely throughout. the wild ass is a dirty, fairly unrelenting herbivore that provides a neverending source of road apples to the town. i am unsure why you'd let that in your caddy. but we enjoyed our recent trip, which aaron took as an opportunity to use the phrase "wild ass" copiously and in all nature of contexts. i giggled.but it turns out, mysteriously enough, that strolling quietly alongside the wild ass with a back pocket full of carrots and while sipping a cold sasparilla makes for a quite enjoyable afternoon. who knew?
