Snoqualmie

Not feeding your Dianna is indeed verboten.

I had an unfortunate series of 14- to 16-hour days earlier this quarter, during the course of which I would simply not find the time to eat on campus, greatly increasing my sense of bedraggled abjection. The problem with those is that when you get home in that state, at least if you're me, you've become entirely incapable of feeding yourself, so that I would stare blankly into a cupboard full of tupperware rather than food, turn on a random stove burner, and then get fetal on the kitchen floor until my Delightful Housemate would step over me, turn off the stove, pick me up, and haul me to Saturn to shove a Buck Rogers into my face. This is why, I think, neither you nor I should live alone.

Also: I again made a quite dazzling reinterpretation of your spinach triangles this week, but I can't eat any more of them. I will regale you with absolutely no details of what happens when you gorge yourself on nothing but spinach and pine nuts for three days, but suffice to say that there's a limit to how much of that you can apparently metabolize, leaving you pudgy and malnourished. Blargh.

YES. Not the part about too much spinach and pine nuts, the part about being unable to feed yourself and instead staring blankly into cabinets and doing things which don't actually succeed in getting you fed. Also most definitely the part about not living alone.

This is why, last winter, I passed the Tofu Scramble Law. I think I recently committed myself to it for this year as well. It's the same principle as my endless burrito lunches; monotony is not lethal, but a total lack of vitamins from living on chocolate chips and peanut butter for four months very well might be.

What's a Buck Rogers, anyway? This sounds like a much more exciting monotonous solution than mine.

Dude, a Buck Rogers is the best thing ever.
It's a vegan riblet sandwich. Before you dismiss that as being really boring or something you can make at home, let me just say that I have never succeeded in replicating this thing, no matter what I do. The riblet is tasty and mildly crispy on the outside, like they cooked it on the grill. It's covered in some kind of delectable mildly spicy vegan chipotle mayo bbq sauce type thing. You have to tell them to go fuck themselves with the horrible raw onion, and substitute grilled onions instead. What results is a goopy drippy mess that you have to eat with both hands - one for sandwich and one for wad of napkins - quickly, hunched over your plate, because it sends sauce and onions everywhere, and you can't put it down because picking it back up will be impossible. If you hold it over your skinny fries while you eat, they get covered with the sauce, making them extry delicious.

I think I might have to have one on my way home today, because I walk right past Saturn on my way home from SCAP. This combo is making me doughy and poor, as opposed to the spinach triangles, which were making me pudgy and malnourished.