Guys, guyssss, GUYS! I'm in a little bit of a panic because I haven't spoken to you in 2 weeks. Whose fault is that? Why didn't I write more? Who drugged me for TWO WEEKS and told me not to write it out? These are all mysteries of the world at this point. I do know that I packed, moved, and set up my new apartment in DC and have already had some interesting adventures.
(Ohhhh hey, gurl... I'm into it)
There are certain things that I forgot about myself from when I lived on my own (and not with the greatest roommies ever). Can we talk about some of them? I mean...do you have a choice? I like to list things out because...well...because lists are fun. (Cahmmm ahnnnn, get on board with me)
1. I am the next Tyra Banks...
This is a ballsy statement. I know it, you know it, effing Tyra knows it! (Does anyone else notice how often I bring up Tyra?) I, in no means, mean that I am going to be a high fashion runway model, nor do I mean that I am going to have a reality show about models. I did notice, though, that on my new commute to and from work, I am doing a lot of walking. On these walks I constantly have music playing, like I have a soundtrack for my life. During these walks, every once in awhile (read also: every single time), I come across a crosswalk and out of nowhere my body is overcome with the unnatural urge to glide across it like a runway. That's right, you read that. I strut my stuff like all eyes are on me and I am OWNING that crosswalk.
(Get. It. Ty.Ra)
I didn't realllly realize I was doing this until the third or fourth day, when I struck a slight pose at the end and looked to see if anyone noticed. I realized a moment after that that I really wanted someone to notice. To be honest, I have always had an unrealistic dream that someone is just going to "discover" me wherever I go. (No, but seriously.) So, basically, if you ever are walking around Washington, DC and you see a gay man strutting his stuff like it is New York Fashion Week...you have probably discovered me.
2. I think I am the worlds greatest chef
One of my favorite YouTube channels is My Drunk Kitchen. It basically is run by this awesome woman, Hannah Harto, and she just gets drunk and cooks things. (She is, casually, everything I hope to be when I grow up) Anywayz, since I have been in my apartment I have decided to drunk cook no less than 4x. I am not sure when it happens, but I get this urge that takes over in my altered state of mind that I need to forage and provide for all of my friends. I need to prove to all of them that I could easily win a challenge on Top Chef or Chopped. Unfortunately, it never turns out that way.
(THIS IS HANNAH. SHE DRINKS TOO!)
On a recent post-8hr boozy brunch experience, I decided I needed to make chicken I had purchased the day before. I took the chicken out, I tried to season it and this is pretty much where everything went down hill. Since I am Italian, I like to put garlic on everything, unfortunately for me, the garlic powder I have has a faulty top that I didn't remember it in my boozy haze. So with wine glass in hand, I poured a solid 2 cups of garlic powder on 4 pieces of chicken. BUT WAIT, it gets better!!! (No, not like the charming LGBT anti-bullying campaign. More like the feeling you have when a horrible event has just occurred and even though something terrible is going to happen, it's not as bad as what just happened. You with me? Whatever. I get it)
I, if I'm being honest, had not used my oven before this event and didn't really know how to turn it on. After a valiant effort, that lasted 2min, I decided that I was going to make all of the chicken in a frying pan. Just to recap what has happened so far for you, I poured garlic all over my chicken and now I was going to fry it.
(He dun did it)
This whole debacle ended with me burning 5 pieces of chicken, setting off the fire alarm...2x, and making the most terrible salad I have ever made in my life. Salad is impossible to make terribly...it's lettuce and toppings. I ruined it with garlic burned chicken. (Ru.In.Ed *gay claps*)
3. Eggs are appropriate food at all hours
It is no shock to anyone that I enjoy a solid brunch just like any other resident of our nations capitol (and anyone else who is good and right in this world). I have taken this to a whole new level. Beyond the fact that I have boozy brunched twice since moving to the city and it hasn't been two weeks, I have really embraced the ease of making and eating eggs. My parent's set me up with a good amount of food when I moved in (because I'm mildly spoiled. I own it), and the thing I ended up utilizing the most was the 18 eggs they got me.
(Gimmeeee gimme gimmmeee)
I have officially had eggs at breakfast, brunch, lunch, linner, dinner, and late night snack. I make omelets like its my job and will put everything in them. I have put normal things in them like cheese and bacon. Then I got feisty and put cream cheese in it. Then I put turkey lunch meat in it. THEN I STARTED PUTTING RANDOM FOOD IN IT. (I typed that in all caps because then I feel like you judge me less). In one of my quests at becoming the next Drunk Top Chef moments, I decided to take a Harry&David "Buffalo Blue Cheese Dip" and put it in the omelet. I can tell you, right now, without a doubt, this is the one time that cheese was NOT the right choice. It had a weird consistency that made me feel weird at the beginning of my consumption...by the end of the entire thing (because I ate it like a CHAMP bitches), I was convinced I had ingested a large amount of snakes.
Did this deter me from making eggs? NOPE. Guess again! Instead I went back to the chopping blocks and decided to take part of a pasta Lean Cuisine and make an egg pasta dish. (Yup, yet another Drunk Chef moment) This one, surprisingly, ended up being quite delicious. I am not sure if it was good because I am actually a genius or because after drinking all day all you want is food in your mouth no matter what form it comes in. What I am trying to say with all of this is...I effing love eggs. Eggs and cheese. Two peas in a pod. (mmm maybe Ill put peas in my next egg concoction. Gotta write that down for drunk me)
DC: Homo sweet homo
Bravo: My guide for living life
Fabulously Lost: America's Next Top Egg Chef Model. (new category of awesome. I'll email ya soon Andy Cohen *wink, nudge, nod*a)
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