One of the weirdest dishes I ever tried was a salad of blue potatoes, baby octopi, and a third, normal thing I understandably don’t recall. This was at some bullshit trendy faux-Mexican restaurant somewhere in the ’90s, somewhere in Manhattan, where I always had to go for business trips.
“I’m like freaking myself out more,” I said, adjusting my sunglasses as they threatened to tumble from their perch atop my head.
“I know, exactly, that’s why we’ve just gotta do it,” Jalyse agreed, coaxing me along. I looked at what was in my hand, and my stomach churned, nearly triggering my gag reflex. Read More Bugging Out: Entomophagy
There are times in my life when I feel the need for an exclamation, but the situation doesn’t really warrant profanity. Like when I’m working on a project and I misplace my screwdriver three times in a row, or when my dog starts to bark at the squirrel in the yard again. Read More LTP: 4/8