… you look at me.

A friend and I had a chat about liking things on facebook.  Now, I’m not on facebook myself (long feminazi rant, if you’re ever interested…), but I think if I were, I’d like things.  Why?  It’s very minimalist.  You don’t need to say anything.  It’s like you just drew a giant air heart in an attempt to express something words could never describe.

… speaking of which, Nate and Bec’s friend came for a weekend visit awhile back.  We had pancakes and bacon for breakfast.  Bec asked Nate if he had cooked the entire pound of bacon, to which I replied, “I can’t think of any reason why you wouldn’t cook an entire pound of bacon.”  Aforementioned friend looked at me with admiration, said “Jenny…”, and drew a heart with his fingers.  Nothing more needed to be said.  For that moment in time, he and I understood each other perfectly.  Words can’t express that feeling, though if I had to try, it’d probably come out something like “mm… bacon…”

So if you were disappointed by my recent post about Joy the Baker, I’m sorry.  I’m sorry you don’t understand me better.  And I’m sorry that your admiration of Joy (sometimes, I pretend we’re friends, and I call her by her first name, but not in a creepy way or anything…)  is not so overwhelming that you can’t ever imagine putting it into words.  I’m sorry.  I really am.

… so some of you don’t get me at all, and that’s okay.  I didn’t start blogging so that I could feel a false sense of approval from complete strangers, and I don’t intend to change that.  I’m a soul-blogger! Nonetheless, those of you who do understand me deserve recognition, and thanks to the magic of google analytics, I know that you’re out there and stumbling upon my blog in a variety of delightful ways.

To those of you who found this blog by typing any of the following phrases into a search engine: is guilting a word, beshamed, biscone recipes, or grace potter… I love you.  That’s right, I used the L word.  And I sincerely meant it.

And a special heart to anyone who can name the disguised ’90s made-for-TV movie reference in this post.

P.S.  And H is for H-A-T-E, which is how I feel about Psych changing the kid who plays “young Shawn”.  I wish there were an emoticon for the face I’m making right now.

Joy the Baker makes me happy.

A friend of mine invented this word awhile back.  It means having the appropriate amount of shame.  It’s going to catch on.  Sooner or later.

Lest you think this is a completely unnecessary word, consider the fact that shameless and shameful are opposites, but are both distinctly negative.  Beshamed is a positive descriptor that falls perfectly between the two.  Speaking of shame…

I had to work late tonight (I’m quite beshamed to say that “working late” is still before 7…), and I had a meeting right afterwards.  I had planned on waiting to have dinner after my meeting (roughly 9pm, which is pretty late, if you know me), but I was starving when I left work at 6:30.  So I did what every rational human being would do: I stopped at the chick-fil-a on my way and got the nuggets kid’s meal.  You don’t do that?  What?!

So if I’m really honest with myself, I’m more than beshamed about this.  I’d describe it more as “shameful”.  I don’t know which I’m more ashamed of, the fast food or the kid’s meal.

Why is there so much shame associated with our food choices?  I don’t mind saying that I’m judgmental of other people’s eating habits.  I don’t appreciate when they’re judgmental of mine, yet I always anticipate their being so.  Hypocrisy?  You betcha’!  And I’m beshamed.  Trust you, me: I’m beshamed.

If you’re getting tired of my 30 rock references, you can deal with it!

Random side note: sometimes, I make your mom jokes.  Pretty much nobody finds them as amusing as I do.  That’s kind of how I feel about stupid TV references.  … if you even got that they were TV references.

So pretty much all I think about is food.  We discussed this.  A small percentage of my time is therefore spent on both men and food.  And I have some thoughts on this.

First, it’s probably a deal-breaker if a guy is a picky eater.  I’m not trying to be shallow here.  Really, I’m not.  I just enjoy cooking far too much to really spend the rest of my life with somebody who wouldn’t enjoy eating whatever I cook.  I might rethink this if the right guy came along, but I sort of doubt it.

Second, it’s probably a deal-breaker if a guy won’t tell me when my food isn’t any good.  I’m not saying he should be a jerk.  I certainly don’t believe that.  But he should be able to kindly tell me what I should have done differently.  It secretly annoys me when people say that everything I make is the best ever.  I want to get better, but I need some help.  And I feel dumb when I’m the only one saying, “Yes, these are good, but I think I should have cut the salt since I used salted butter.”  Actually, I don’t feel dumb.  I feel like that girl who is begging anyone to tell her there wasn’t too much salt in her scones.  And that’s not it at all.

Third, it’s probably a deal-breaker if he’s obsessive about a diet regimen.  I’m not opposed to healthy eating.  You know I’m not.  But I don’t need somebody guilting* me every time I want to eat some french fries.

Fourth, it’s probably a deal-breaker if he doesn’t share food.  I want to eat off of his plate, and I want him to eat off of mine.  Elizabeth says you should just try this out on the first date, and if it doesn’t work, it doesn’t work.  I’m not so sure, but I really hate being afraid to do something that feels so natural to me.

* Apparently “guilting” isn’t a word.  I was distressed by the red underline chrome was giving me, so I looked it up.  I got this message: “No results found for guilting: Did you mean guilting?”  What gives?!