Hello my darling fans. Forgive me, I've taken a few days off to recuperate from my wild weekend of eating.
You may not believe this, but I have happened upon a new taste sensation and I think everyone out there should try it:
Peanut butter (with flaxseeds in it, you know the kind from Trader Joe's?) on seven grain sprouted bread with cucumbers. It's delicious. I don't care what you say. The only thing that could improve this sandwich is mayonnaise..and since I'm too lazy to make it anymore, I'm off the stuff.
Yes, my darlings, I used to battle this tiny closet I lived in-and I would cook. I would make homemade everything. But the truth is, there was no one but me to appreciate-and even though I did, I couldn't keep doing it. I was exhausted. So now, I confess, I eat a lot of frozen dinners. I suppose I could write an entire article on the best frozen dinners. And by best, I don't mean by brand. I mean by individual dinners. As in, Vons has this wonderful lemongrass chicken with brown rice in the sauciest little sauce. It's to die for. Really. But in the same line is the chicken enchilada, which could only pass for Mexican food in England (where they boil EVERYTHING - AND you must remember, the only reason the English conquered the world was to get a decent meal! But I can say this because I AM black- I mean, English. Yeah. I am. On my dad's side (so there!)) The meatloaf is also quite good in the Von's line (just don't make the same mistake I did and have a fish patty with it to up the protein).
The problem with most frozen dinners is that they are mostly cheap carbohydrate, white rice, usually, which, incidentally has a higher glycemic index than white SUGAR..OMG, the last time I had one of those meals, I came down with this awful headache and then overate the rest of the day. Ixnay on the whitericeay!
SO if there is anyone out there is food land who would like to manufacture frozen dinners with me, by all means, give us an E or something. Because I know what a frozen dinner SHOULD be. And it should not be mostly carbohydrate. I mean even the vegetarian tofu dinners are mostly white rice. I mean really? Tofu? En serio? The cheap meat substitute that was going to save the world, even the tofu is skimped on! And don't even let me start on the chicken. The five pieces of orange chicken on the cover? That is all you gon' get in there. Yup. And the rest is white rice. I want a decent meat portion with my rice. NOT MOSTLY RICE. And the veggies! Oh. These tiny cut up little bits, as if veggies are OFFENSIVE or something. Really? How about some big succulent stalks of broccoli? Courage, people, courage!
The truly good frozen dinner would be VERY light on the carbs. If any. I mean a nice fish in a creamy sauce served with a whopping portion of broccoli or spinach. Perhaps a small bit of sweet potato, or BROWN rice. Of course, I can just go buy a steak and the broccoli and just cook it. But I like the idea and the convenience of the frozen dinner. *sigh*
I remain,
devotedly yours,
Hilda Stinson
PS. Brian will NOT go away. It's insane. I mean he's GAY!
Tuesday, October 26, 2010
Saturday, October 23, 2010
Resistance? Futile
I have a particular skill, characteristic to those of us in fiction-land and it's this: my delusions are absolutely true and they do happen. Wait. That was redundant. But I don't care.
The very next day, Brian followed me to work. So when I sat, facing my audience, he was in the back, beckoning me to come and be in his arms.
Next, he came and sat in my chair-and pulled me on top of him, so that I was in his lap.
It was a lucky thing that my audience couldn't see him.
We had left things unresolved. And it bothered me that a gay man would so relentlessly pursue me, as if I were something that he really wanted. Like Brian has ever really wanted anything, save a new account! So I ignored him. Eventually frustrated by my lack of response, he faded gracefully away. He'll probably be back tonight. And when he comes to me, in my bed, as I fall asleep, I will not be able to resist. Kind of like last night.
Last night, I had a date. I had decided that it was high time that I actually date someone I really like, whether or not this someone was appropriate for me or not. He was 27. I'm not.
Clarity. It came to me during a phone conversation with an "age appropriate for me" braggart, who was trying to impress me, but was failing miserably. The icing on the cake? An exasperated sigh when I mentioned a certain experiment. He assured me that he had "taken physics" and that I need not go on. Well. That was quite the smarmy little put down. And I had enough. I wasn't going to take it. So I called up A because I remembered that he had been nice and would NEVER say anything like that. A was a nice person. A person who had always treated me with kindness and respect. So I decided to ring him up. Plus I was hungry.
I had a big fat craving for a thick juicy sit down restaurant burger. We went to Crazee burger and it was rustic. Ordering at the counter and all.
But the burger? Relatively sublime. Not quite the burger of my fantasies, but just as well. A burger like that would have been entirely too caloric. This one was thick (but not too thick) and pink in the middle with just the right amount of tomato, onion and lettuce. Bibb, I believe it was. Of course, I has to discard the bun. It didn't appeal to me. I let my companion eat it. And there was a salad. Mostly iceburg, but very fresh. Pear cider. The perfect drink and it was the perfect amount to go with the amount of food I had. It evened out. Maybe it was a sign. A was incredibly cute with dark hair and eyes. And skin. Let's not forget the contrast between my marmoreal epidermis and his burnt bread color-very hot. Perhaps the two of us would "even out", so to speak, despite the age difference.
After dinner, we went to Von's to get bevvies to continue our drunky (my drunky, his slight, if EVEN buzz). First we had to go to the pastry department because there is nothing more sinful than a supermarket pastry department. I wanted to see and be turned on by all the various kinds of cakes, cookies, cupcakes and puddings.
The first thing that struck me were the chocolate chip cookies in the clear shiny boxes: oh so moist and tender! I was driven mad with desire. The chocolate chips evenly dotted the creamy textured cookie portion and made me want to open the box and slowly bite down into the cookie again and again, until it was gone.
My companion was struck with the fruit tarts, which were shiny with sugar glaze, but much of the fruit was askew and the cakes appeared lopsided. I wasn't feeling it. But then, I saw the shiny boxes of chocolate cake with white icing. I inhaled sharply, "Oh!"
"Do you want that?" he asked.
"Oh. Do I. DO I!" I exclaimed.
He put his hand out for the box, but I stopped him.
"No. I can't. I can only look."
"Okay," he took my hand.
"I, can't afford it," I told him. "All I can do is look."
He smiled. "Okay, let's go get the drinks,"
So we got the drinks and a tiny little serving of Ben and Jerry's Chocolate Brownie ice cream, which, while sinful, I could afford to eat HALF of.
He later allowed me to eat most of the ice cream. And then, he took me upstairs for a ritual post prandial calorie burning.
Sublime. (What? What did you expect? I sleepy and I was full.) Resistance WAS futile.
Speaking of which, look who's here. Completely naked. In my bed (rolls eyes).
I told you he'd come.
Hugs and Love,
Hilda
The very next day, Brian followed me to work. So when I sat, facing my audience, he was in the back, beckoning me to come and be in his arms.
Next, he came and sat in my chair-and pulled me on top of him, so that I was in his lap.
It was a lucky thing that my audience couldn't see him.
We had left things unresolved. And it bothered me that a gay man would so relentlessly pursue me, as if I were something that he really wanted. Like Brian has ever really wanted anything, save a new account! So I ignored him. Eventually frustrated by my lack of response, he faded gracefully away. He'll probably be back tonight. And when he comes to me, in my bed, as I fall asleep, I will not be able to resist. Kind of like last night.
Last night, I had a date. I had decided that it was high time that I actually date someone I really like, whether or not this someone was appropriate for me or not. He was 27. I'm not.
Clarity. It came to me during a phone conversation with an "age appropriate for me" braggart, who was trying to impress me, but was failing miserably. The icing on the cake? An exasperated sigh when I mentioned a certain experiment. He assured me that he had "taken physics" and that I need not go on. Well. That was quite the smarmy little put down. And I had enough. I wasn't going to take it. So I called up A because I remembered that he had been nice and would NEVER say anything like that. A was a nice person. A person who had always treated me with kindness and respect. So I decided to ring him up. Plus I was hungry.
I had a big fat craving for a thick juicy sit down restaurant burger. We went to Crazee burger and it was rustic. Ordering at the counter and all.
But the burger? Relatively sublime. Not quite the burger of my fantasies, but just as well. A burger like that would have been entirely too caloric. This one was thick (but not too thick) and pink in the middle with just the right amount of tomato, onion and lettuce. Bibb, I believe it was. Of course, I has to discard the bun. It didn't appeal to me. I let my companion eat it. And there was a salad. Mostly iceburg, but very fresh. Pear cider. The perfect drink and it was the perfect amount to go with the amount of food I had. It evened out. Maybe it was a sign. A was incredibly cute with dark hair and eyes. And skin. Let's not forget the contrast between my marmoreal epidermis and his burnt bread color-very hot. Perhaps the two of us would "even out", so to speak, despite the age difference.
After dinner, we went to Von's to get bevvies to continue our drunky (my drunky, his slight, if EVEN buzz). First we had to go to the pastry department because there is nothing more sinful than a supermarket pastry department. I wanted to see and be turned on by all the various kinds of cakes, cookies, cupcakes and puddings.
The first thing that struck me were the chocolate chip cookies in the clear shiny boxes: oh so moist and tender! I was driven mad with desire. The chocolate chips evenly dotted the creamy textured cookie portion and made me want to open the box and slowly bite down into the cookie again and again, until it was gone.
My companion was struck with the fruit tarts, which were shiny with sugar glaze, but much of the fruit was askew and the cakes appeared lopsided. I wasn't feeling it. But then, I saw the shiny boxes of chocolate cake with white icing. I inhaled sharply, "Oh!"
"Do you want that?" he asked.
"Oh. Do I. DO I!" I exclaimed.
He put his hand out for the box, but I stopped him.
"No. I can't. I can only look."
"Okay," he took my hand.
"I, can't afford it," I told him. "All I can do is look."
He smiled. "Okay, let's go get the drinks,"
So we got the drinks and a tiny little serving of Ben and Jerry's Chocolate Brownie ice cream, which, while sinful, I could afford to eat HALF of.
He later allowed me to eat most of the ice cream. And then, he took me upstairs for a ritual post prandial calorie burning.
Sublime. (What? What did you expect? I sleepy and I was full.) Resistance WAS futile.
Speaking of which, look who's here. Completely naked. In my bed (rolls eyes).
I told you he'd come.
Hugs and Love,
Hilda
Wednesday, October 20, 2010
Temptation: Frozen Now
Every time I buy bread I buy "flourless sprouted wheat" and every time I get out of control.
You read yesterday's blog. Well there it is.
This morning, I threw what was left of the loaf into the freezer.
When I came home, the smell still haunted me and I sniffed with longing.
Then I napped.
Post nap, I did "Dynamic Strength and Power" (with Cindy Thorp). It was hard. Then Core.
Then it was time for a snack. Chocolate whey powder mixed with water with half a spoon of flaxseed peanut butter and that half of a banana left from this morning.
Dinner? Disappointing.
Instead, I'd like to discuss a daydream I had as I drove home (or was it TO work?)
Gale Harold is the actor who played Brian Kinney (my HERO) on "Queer as Folk" and lately he's been on "Hellcats", which if you don't know, is a show about cheerleaders. It's mildly entertaining. But when I saw Gale, I cheered because I love him.
He was looking a little thin. So today I thought about what it would be like to help fatten him up.
So let me give you a little background about me. Gay men like me. As in, "Are you SURE you're really gay?" And they like to kiss and hug me. Hold my hand. Cuddle me. So this isn't completely impossible to imagine:
I would walk into his office and he'd be sitting in a chair, slouching (he's a great sloucher) and I'd be carrying a seven layer cheesecake masterpiece.
Okay, let's be real, it's not Gale, it's Brian. Really. Brian. Because it has always been Brian. I'm wearing a black trenchcoat over my lingerie, a black bustier (which really cinches my waist) and matching black lace panties. I shuck the coat.
He turns and gives me a look.
I put the masterpiece on his desk, go over to him and get on top of him, my hands stroking his face. I kiss him.
"Umm," he moans and runs his hands over my body.
"Gay, right?"
He shrugs and pulls off his tie and I kiss him again.
"You might want to rethink that one." I get up off him and walk over to the cake. I dab a spot of it onto his nose.
"You WILL lick that off," he says.
I oblige. And then unbutton his shirt. His skin is smooth, hairless, like I like it.
"Nice nipples, " I tell him.
"Which you will suck now," he says.
I laugh and take a dollop off the cake and smear it over his chest. And then, I pull him to his feet and run my fingers over his nipples, which are now covered in whipped cream and cheesecake. I lick some of it. He picks me up and puts me face down on the desk.
"This abomination is coming off," he patiently removes the bustier and then spins me around and dabs cheesecake on me. It is rich and thick, the cheese portion mingliing with whipped cream and strawberries and he bends down over me and sucks a strawberry off my stomach, carefully avoiding any of the cake and the cream. "No carbs," he smiles wickedly at me.
I laugh.
The cake sits a few feet away, its layers beckoning. Sponge cake, made of the finest flour, sugar, butter and eggs, cream cheese mixed with sucanat and lightly flavored with lemon extract, a layer of sliced strawberries which are fresh, organic and bursting with red juice, a hard dark chocolate crust, like what one might use to cover a vanilla ice cream cone, a layer of sweetened marscapone cheese mixed with agave nectar and then a layer of strawberries, thinly sliced, dipped in white chocolate and last, whipped cream.
"I'm going to feed you," I say.
(to be continued...)
You read yesterday's blog. Well there it is.
This morning, I threw what was left of the loaf into the freezer.
When I came home, the smell still haunted me and I sniffed with longing.
Then I napped.
Post nap, I did "Dynamic Strength and Power" (with Cindy Thorp). It was hard. Then Core.
Then it was time for a snack. Chocolate whey powder mixed with water with half a spoon of flaxseed peanut butter and that half of a banana left from this morning.
Dinner? Disappointing.
Instead, I'd like to discuss a daydream I had as I drove home (or was it TO work?)
Gale Harold is the actor who played Brian Kinney (my HERO) on "Queer as Folk" and lately he's been on "Hellcats", which if you don't know, is a show about cheerleaders. It's mildly entertaining. But when I saw Gale, I cheered because I love him.
He was looking a little thin. So today I thought about what it would be like to help fatten him up.
So let me give you a little background about me. Gay men like me. As in, "Are you SURE you're really gay?" And they like to kiss and hug me. Hold my hand. Cuddle me. So this isn't completely impossible to imagine:
I would walk into his office and he'd be sitting in a chair, slouching (he's a great sloucher) and I'd be carrying a seven layer cheesecake masterpiece.
Okay, let's be real, it's not Gale, it's Brian. Really. Brian. Because it has always been Brian. I'm wearing a black trenchcoat over my lingerie, a black bustier (which really cinches my waist) and matching black lace panties. I shuck the coat.
He turns and gives me a look.
I put the masterpiece on his desk, go over to him and get on top of him, my hands stroking his face. I kiss him.
"Umm," he moans and runs his hands over my body.
"Gay, right?"
He shrugs and pulls off his tie and I kiss him again.
"You might want to rethink that one." I get up off him and walk over to the cake. I dab a spot of it onto his nose.
"You WILL lick that off," he says.
I oblige. And then unbutton his shirt. His skin is smooth, hairless, like I like it.
"Nice nipples, " I tell him.
"Which you will suck now," he says.
I laugh and take a dollop off the cake and smear it over his chest. And then, I pull him to his feet and run my fingers over his nipples, which are now covered in whipped cream and cheesecake. I lick some of it. He picks me up and puts me face down on the desk.
"This abomination is coming off," he patiently removes the bustier and then spins me around and dabs cheesecake on me. It is rich and thick, the cheese portion mingliing with whipped cream and strawberries and he bends down over me and sucks a strawberry off my stomach, carefully avoiding any of the cake and the cream. "No carbs," he smiles wickedly at me.
I laugh.
The cake sits a few feet away, its layers beckoning. Sponge cake, made of the finest flour, sugar, butter and eggs, cream cheese mixed with sucanat and lightly flavored with lemon extract, a layer of sliced strawberries which are fresh, organic and bursting with red juice, a hard dark chocolate crust, like what one might use to cover a vanilla ice cream cone, a layer of sweetened marscapone cheese mixed with agave nectar and then a layer of strawberries, thinly sliced, dipped in white chocolate and last, whipped cream.
"I'm going to feed you," I say.
(to be continued...)
Tuesday, October 19, 2010
Ginger Chews
As I write this, my mouth is burning and my teeth are sticky with the residues
of Ginger Chews.
The outside is green paper, the interior a white wax. And then the candy itself is covered with fine powered sugar. I savour the dusty feel of the sugar on my tongue as I roll it around in my mouth and then: chew.
Oh me. Foodgasming as we speak.
I am also having a nice Shiraz with this. Second glass..
Okay, I never pour myself a FULL glass because, well, I'm such a light weight.
Now I'm on my third. Naughty Hilda! I unwrap another chew, as if it's a boy I'm about to kiss. And EEEEAAAT it. And then, I guzzle more wine.
You see? This is more than just fantasy. Licking the powdered sugar off my finger, I unwrap another, and another until my mouth is so sticky and burning that I just have to stop. I lick my fingers again. Finish my third half glass of wine.
And now, my dear readers, I will now chronicle today's sins.
Breakfast and lunch? Same as yesterday. I am hideously boring sometimes.
For dinner? Half a peanut butter sandwich on sprouted wheat with crushed fresh organic raspberries (pauses to lick fingers). And the rest of the small plastic box of raspberries. They are sour/sweet. Then three more pieces of bread with some frozen butter that I BITE right into. SO good. And there's the wine and the ginger candies. Sinful. (Re-licks fingers) I am so sweet and full of green tea (with which I put in three scant tablespoons of sugar)..Lawd have mercy. I am wrecked and ready for BED
But, before I go, I must right a wrong from my first post. In my first post, I made a gross generalization about celebrities. That the don't TRY. Well, okay maybe they do. Perhaps they are just as representative of any X man in the population. In which case, it would mean that only 1 out of 10 actually knows what he's doing.
I'm just SAYIN'.
I remain, lost in the passion of my fooding,
Hilda Stinson
of Ginger Chews.
The outside is green paper, the interior a white wax. And then the candy itself is covered with fine powered sugar. I savour the dusty feel of the sugar on my tongue as I roll it around in my mouth and then: chew.
Oh me. Foodgasming as we speak.
I am also having a nice Shiraz with this. Second glass..
Okay, I never pour myself a FULL glass because, well, I'm such a light weight.
Now I'm on my third. Naughty Hilda! I unwrap another chew, as if it's a boy I'm about to kiss. And EEEEAAAT it. And then, I guzzle more wine.
You see? This is more than just fantasy. Licking the powdered sugar off my finger, I unwrap another, and another until my mouth is so sticky and burning that I just have to stop. I lick my fingers again. Finish my third half glass of wine.
And now, my dear readers, I will now chronicle today's sins.
Breakfast and lunch? Same as yesterday. I am hideously boring sometimes.
For dinner? Half a peanut butter sandwich on sprouted wheat with crushed fresh organic raspberries (pauses to lick fingers). And the rest of the small plastic box of raspberries. They are sour/sweet. Then three more pieces of bread with some frozen butter that I BITE right into. SO good. And there's the wine and the ginger candies. Sinful. (Re-licks fingers) I am so sweet and full of green tea (with which I put in three scant tablespoons of sugar)..Lawd have mercy. I am wrecked and ready for BED
But, before I go, I must right a wrong from my first post. In my first post, I made a gross generalization about celebrities. That the don't TRY. Well, okay maybe they do. Perhaps they are just as representative of any X man in the population. In which case, it would mean that only 1 out of 10 actually knows what he's doing.
I'm just SAYIN'.
I remain, lost in the passion of my fooding,
Hilda Stinson
Monday, October 18, 2010
Promises, promises
It is my ambition to get a camera. A real camera to where I can upload photos onto my computer (when I get the new baby, which should be with me soon.)
I will take pics of notable pornalicious food for you, my dear readers to salivate over and fantasize.
Now for today's dish: so to speak.
Last night I dreamed that I had moved in with Serena Van de Wootson (ala Gossip Girl) and that even though I wasn't attracted to her, I kissed her on the lips anyway. She was surprised, but she liked it. (rolls eyes)
Being a fictional character isn't easy, especially in your very own infancy, but I do want to tell you about my day.
Breakfast was the usual: whey protein with cacao chips, three tiny squares of dark chocolate and half a banana. Yes, I know that "nobody eats half a banana"-well, I DO, so there.
Snack was also the usual: an apple and seven raw brazil nuts.
(uh oh, you're starting to think I'm WAAAY to healthy to be a food pornographer. I don't care what you think. I'm ficticious and can do anything I WANT (sticks out tongue))
Lunch. Okay, lunch lacked imagination. It was a diet salad from Trader Joe's and a can of sardines. Chocolate yogurt. I felt too full. Which was interesting. But keeping a close eye on the food intake is paramount to the degree in which I can enjoy it. I can't enjoy food unless I'm truly hungry. Or fantasizing about it. When I fantasize, I don't have to eat.
This afternoon's conversation was about eating alligator. Yes. Alligator.
"Well," I said, "if you deep fry anything it will taste like chicken."
And, as we all know, anything deep fried is by its very nature delicious.
We also spoke of McDonalds. And you know what? I thought a Big Mac had over 700 calories, but when we looked it up, it was only about 470. Interesting. I'm still not going to eat one.
On the way home from work, I thought about McDonalds. The french fries. I just wanted a small fries. It was all I wanted. But instead, I thought about tummies smothered in cellulite and went to Trader Joe's instead.
At the market, I purchased almost exactly the same lunch I had today for tomorrow, except I decided to try a Yoplait yogurt which I would have to purchase from Ralphs. Well, guess what? It has high fructose corn syrup in it. Yeah. And after all that blathering on tv about how, "Oh, I even LOST weight." Oh really? Well maybe because you stopped eating donuts? OMG. I am so sick of food companies bragging about how great they are for weight loss and then they go and put HFC in their products. Pisses me off no end. So I looked at Light and Fit (a product hawked by one of my alter egoes, Heidi Klum) and I was shocked. Red dye number 40. Really? So I found a generic brand that only had the sin of sucrolose (chlorine sugar) and acesulfamate K to dis-rec it. But only 80 calories, which was a lot less than today's chocolate yogurt.
When I got home, I ate a can of tomato soup and a peanut butter/flax seed blend sandwich on sprouted wheat bread. Delicious. Then a nap. I was tired.
For dinner a tiny filet (I love filet mignon and think that it should be considered a drug of sorts-the way it makes me feel!), a few sprigs of broccoli and half a yam (a small one). Then green tea with a Ben & Jerry's cookie dough single serving. Bam. Too much food. But the ice cream was sublime. The cookie dough and the chocolate chips and the creamy texture of the ice cream. Veritable foodgasm.
Tomorrow I will repent and turn to Jesus....
I will take pics of notable pornalicious food for you, my dear readers to salivate over and fantasize.
Now for today's dish: so to speak.
Last night I dreamed that I had moved in with Serena Van de Wootson (ala Gossip Girl) and that even though I wasn't attracted to her, I kissed her on the lips anyway. She was surprised, but she liked it. (rolls eyes)
Being a fictional character isn't easy, especially in your very own infancy, but I do want to tell you about my day.
Breakfast was the usual: whey protein with cacao chips, three tiny squares of dark chocolate and half a banana. Yes, I know that "nobody eats half a banana"-well, I DO, so there.
Snack was also the usual: an apple and seven raw brazil nuts.
(uh oh, you're starting to think I'm WAAAY to healthy to be a food pornographer. I don't care what you think. I'm ficticious and can do anything I WANT (sticks out tongue))
Lunch. Okay, lunch lacked imagination. It was a diet salad from Trader Joe's and a can of sardines. Chocolate yogurt. I felt too full. Which was interesting. But keeping a close eye on the food intake is paramount to the degree in which I can enjoy it. I can't enjoy food unless I'm truly hungry. Or fantasizing about it. When I fantasize, I don't have to eat.
This afternoon's conversation was about eating alligator. Yes. Alligator.
"Well," I said, "if you deep fry anything it will taste like chicken."
And, as we all know, anything deep fried is by its very nature delicious.
We also spoke of McDonalds. And you know what? I thought a Big Mac had over 700 calories, but when we looked it up, it was only about 470. Interesting. I'm still not going to eat one.
On the way home from work, I thought about McDonalds. The french fries. I just wanted a small fries. It was all I wanted. But instead, I thought about tummies smothered in cellulite and went to Trader Joe's instead.
At the market, I purchased almost exactly the same lunch I had today for tomorrow, except I decided to try a Yoplait yogurt which I would have to purchase from Ralphs. Well, guess what? It has high fructose corn syrup in it. Yeah. And after all that blathering on tv about how, "Oh, I even LOST weight." Oh really? Well maybe because you stopped eating donuts? OMG. I am so sick of food companies bragging about how great they are for weight loss and then they go and put HFC in their products. Pisses me off no end. So I looked at Light and Fit (a product hawked by one of my alter egoes, Heidi Klum) and I was shocked. Red dye number 40. Really? So I found a generic brand that only had the sin of sucrolose (chlorine sugar) and acesulfamate K to dis-rec it. But only 80 calories, which was a lot less than today's chocolate yogurt.
When I got home, I ate a can of tomato soup and a peanut butter/flax seed blend sandwich on sprouted wheat bread. Delicious. Then a nap. I was tired.
For dinner a tiny filet (I love filet mignon and think that it should be considered a drug of sorts-the way it makes me feel!), a few sprigs of broccoli and half a yam (a small one). Then green tea with a Ben & Jerry's cookie dough single serving. Bam. Too much food. But the ice cream was sublime. The cookie dough and the chocolate chips and the creamy texture of the ice cream. Veritable foodgasm.
Tomorrow I will repent and turn to Jesus....
Sunday, October 17, 2010
Hello Loyal Fans!
I am Hilda Stinson.
You don't know me yet, but you will.
To begin with, I am in love. With food.
Most women fantasize about shoes. I find this laughable because shoes are so damn uncomfortable, as are most articles of clothing. But more about that later.
Some women fantasize about movie stars and having sex with them.
I haven't actually had sex with a movie star, that much is true. But I can tell you this: it's probably the same as having sex with any other guy, except it might not be as good because "the star" will think he doesn't have to put forth any effort. This would not be good enough for Hilda Stinson. And shouldn't be good enough for any women. But some of you have low self esteeem. And there 'ent much I can do 'bout THAT one.
But back to ME. And my fantasies. This is, after all, a blog about porn. Food porn. Oh. YES. (Foodgasm)
Well, let's begin at the beginning:
Chocolate. Cake, to be exact. A large chocolate cake with white icing in a large wineglass. A wineglass so large that I can fit inside it (with the cake!).
There's a lift that takes me up to the top of the glass (which is incredibly sturdy, because, honey-chile, Hilda is a HEAVY one, lemme tell you!) and I step off into the glass.
As I step, my foot (completely sanitized (yes I have germ issues, shut up, nobody asked YOU)) steps into the mounds of chocolate cake, which is still warm and the icing, which is chilled creates a contrast on my skin. I lie down in the wine glass and little chocolate bonbons filled with neopolitan ice cream are delivered into my hands.
I lie and meditate in the cake, bon bons in my hands. And then I begin to eat and roll around in the cake. Finally, exhausted from writhing around in the cake, I fall asleep, completely sated.
(sigh)
I love cake.
And, you, my loyal fans.
H+K,
Hilda
You don't know me yet, but you will.
To begin with, I am in love. With food.
Most women fantasize about shoes. I find this laughable because shoes are so damn uncomfortable, as are most articles of clothing. But more about that later.
Some women fantasize about movie stars and having sex with them.
I haven't actually had sex with a movie star, that much is true. But I can tell you this: it's probably the same as having sex with any other guy, except it might not be as good because "the star" will think he doesn't have to put forth any effort. This would not be good enough for Hilda Stinson. And shouldn't be good enough for any women. But some of you have low self esteeem. And there 'ent much I can do 'bout THAT one.
But back to ME. And my fantasies. This is, after all, a blog about porn. Food porn. Oh. YES. (Foodgasm)
Well, let's begin at the beginning:
Chocolate. Cake, to be exact. A large chocolate cake with white icing in a large wineglass. A wineglass so large that I can fit inside it (with the cake!).
There's a lift that takes me up to the top of the glass (which is incredibly sturdy, because, honey-chile, Hilda is a HEAVY one, lemme tell you!) and I step off into the glass.
As I step, my foot (completely sanitized (yes I have germ issues, shut up, nobody asked YOU)) steps into the mounds of chocolate cake, which is still warm and the icing, which is chilled creates a contrast on my skin. I lie down in the wine glass and little chocolate bonbons filled with neopolitan ice cream are delivered into my hands.
I lie and meditate in the cake, bon bons in my hands. And then I begin to eat and roll around in the cake. Finally, exhausted from writhing around in the cake, I fall asleep, completely sated.
(sigh)
I love cake.
And, you, my loyal fans.
H+K,
Hilda
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