Monthly Archives: March 2013

2 black bean salads

Because many people have asked for my black bean salad recipes. And I think these should reside on my own website other than a third party host. 😛

quinoa black bean salad with corn & avocado

1 can of black beans, drained and rinsed
1 can of corn, drained and rinsed
1 avocado, diced
2-3 cloves garlic, finely minced
couple teaspoons flax seeds
sesame oil, salt, and fresh ground pepper to taste
1 cup quinoa
2 cups water

Bring water and quinoa to a boil, cover, and simmer over low heat. Simmer for about 15 minutes, or until all liquid is absorbed. Remove from heat and let stand for 5 minutes. Fluff with a fork and mix in the rest of ingredients.

Kasha salad

Bring to boil 1 cup kasha in 2 cups water, cover and simmer for 15 minutes. Remove from heat.

Mix in:
1 can black beans, drained and rinsed
1 can corn, drained and rinsed
1/2 or 1 whole medium red onion, diced
1 red bell pepper, diced
1/2 bunch cilantro, chopped
1 avocado, diced
salt & pepper to taste
squeeze of 1 lime
splash of apple cider vinegar (optional)

girl alone at the bar

It was a cold November winter day in 2006. I was meeting up with a friend for a movie in the city. She had called to notify me that she was running an hour late. So I decided to kill some time by nursing a beer in a nearby bar. I noticed a girl with the chemically fried red hair sitting alone at the bar. I chatted with her for a bit. She proceeded to unload her life story. I don’t frequent bars very often, so this would be the only closest to craziest drinking story I got.
———

Drunk woman at the bar: …every day I wake up and remember I went to sleep feeling heartbroken. Wash, rinse, repeat. To go on like that for 4 years, I believe that must’ve took a year off my life. That’s how long I’ve gone without love and happiness. Ever since my ex-boyfriend left me, my only motivation now is to keep on living until I find my one true love.

I try keep myself busy with new hobbies and stuff to get my mind off the fact I’m a pathetic unloved loser. Hiking, dancing, yoga. They can only do so much.

All this sadness and pain of loneliness has taken its toll on my health. I seem to be getting flus every other week. It’s gotten to the point that I can’t get out of bed in the morning. I just want somebody to come and make it stop. I prayed every day for a good man to come into my life. One day an older man, probably older than my grandfather, came along and offers his love. Perhaps he might be The One to take this misery away. I normally do not accept dates from men older than me by 30+ years. You know what? I’ve actually considered it. That’s how hard up I was. But I had to turn him down because it wouldn’t be fair to him. Even though I was desperate, I really couldn’t force myself to fall in love with someone I have no feelings for.

I tried my damnedest not to wallow in misery. I tried my damnedest not to let failed relationships defeat me. You know, it’s getting harder and harder each passing day. I’m afraid I might morph into a scary marriage-hungry monster. Wanting a husband has been chronically occupying my thoughts almost every day.

When you’re hurting for that one true love real bad, you’d start overlooking the red flags. Red flags, such as him telling you a long story of how he exacted revenge on his last ex-girlfriend on the first date, hardly has any friends, and living with his mother at 40 years old. Red flags, such as him making one excuse after another as to why he’s never available to hang out with me on his days off. OH YES! AND he still doesn’t want to show me his home, even after six months of dating!

Yet I put up with his jerkish behavior for a long time in hopes that this relationship will end in marriage. I actually deluded myself into thinking that he would turn over a new leaf and treat me better. It’s all because I wanted to have bragging rights of having a husband. I want to get bragging rights of being somebody’s wife. I wanted it so bad, you don’t even know it!

I grew up believing that good girls get married off and if you’re not married off, it means you’re a bad girl, yes? My mother always said there’s something wrong with you if you’re not married by 21. I’m beginning to think she’s right.

Bitterblacktea: How old are you, if you don’t mind me asking?

Drunk woman: 29. I’ll be 30 in January. *sigh* If I were a decent sort of girl, a man would validate my existence and sanction my worth as a human being by marrying me.

I’m so emotionally down and out that I’ve lost sight of reality. I’ve turned to psychics so they can assure me that I won’t grow old alone. I’ve actually pressed them to tell me whether or not I’ll get married so I don’t have to waste time chasing after a phantom husband.

I feel so lonely, desperate, and hopeless at times. It’s gotten so bad that I think simple handshakes and hugs from the opposite sex means they might be romantically interested in me.

Like this one time I freaked a guy out by staring dreamily into his eyes. All he did was he held my hand in a funny way in a handshake and I mistakenly thought that he was attracted to me. Now he sees me as that creepy chick and avoids me like a plague.

Bitterblacktea: So this is what it feels like to go mad.

Drunk woman: It ain’t fun, my friend. It ain’t fun.

[originally published on LiveJournal]

old entry from November 17, 2000

Friday, November 17, 2000
A rat humped my heel today.

My coworker, her eldest daughter and I were walking to the train station after work when I heard screams that shot straight into my eardrum. The two scampered back a few feet and continue to holler. I looked to my left and saw the cause of the commotion.

A big assed well-fed rat.

It turned its head and glared directly at the two crazy women screaming to high heaven. I doubled over in hysterics. Then I felt something hit my right heel.

Bump. Bump. Bump.

I turned around and saw another rat trying to join the first rat at the back of some restaurant. Second rat wasn’t succeeding because it kept running into my boot like a dense cartoon character running into a wall repeatedly trying to get to the other side.

The second one was just as big, bad and ugly as its friend. The daughter claimed she saw a third one. They hollered some more. Their hollering got me jumping too. I couldn’t tell if they were screaming at the rat staring at them or the one by my foot.

This is why one should not wear sandals or open-toed shoes in NYC. You may never know what might be snapping at your toes.  >.<

I told Evil Emperor Dude later about the rats. He asked me if I tried to stomp on one just like I did to the mouse in my office last summer.

D00d, I wouldn’t attempt to stomp on something that is bigger than my foot.

[originally published on Geocities]

3 ingredient recipe – simply at its best

Simple Chinese broccoli (gai-lan)

You will need:
– a handful or two of Chinese broccoli, nicely washed
– good quality sesame oil (for the love of what’s good and holy, stay away from those cheap adulterated oil blend junk)
– tamari

1. Bring a pot of water to a roaring boil.
2. Take the broccoli and cut into bite sized pieces.
3. Submerge the broccoli for a minute or two, then drain well.
4. Drizzle lightly with sesame oil and tamari to taste. Toss and serve with rice and other sides.
5. Eat and enjoy.

[orginally published on LiveJournal]

old entry from November 01, 2001 – 11:27 AM

How could I wake up tired and drained when I went to bed early at 10PM? I’ve noticed lately that I’ve been waking up tired after dreaming about running around or running away from some menacing figure chasing me.

I was in a lab with this butt ugly man in a brown suit. Stringy and skanky thinning hair, huge beaky nose, prominent chin. Tall and bulky with round hunched shoulders. Butt ugly. Something went wrong in the lab which caused this guy to grow some green tentacles all over his body. (Think Urotsukidoji.) He dropped a few green feces from two of his tentacles in a flower pot. He then turned his head in my direction with a wicked gleam in his eye. I quickly bolted out of the lab and ran down the corridors of the school. The tentacles shot out from the door after me. I ducked as the vile appendages flew over my head and slid into the stairway. I tumbled and rolled down the stairs, got up and continued running on the third floor. The hideous monster reappeared at the end of the hallway and is gaining on my tail fast. I spotted my friend, Ali, on the floor and grabbed his collar before he could say hello. We ran up and down, over and around the campus with this tentacled hellhound pursuing us. We finally shook off the misshapened fiend a couple of flights down. My poor friend was getting tired from all that running. We looked for a place to rest and found a small balcony on the top floor. I gently dragged and nudged my exhausted friend up the stairs, eventually reaching the balcony after what seemed like an eon. The dusky sky looked rather serene from the balcony. We sat down and drifted off to sleep in the cool quiet night air.

Then I woke up. I knew I shouldn’t have eaten the whole bag of Veggie Booty before bed.

old entry from November 27, 2000

Cemetery Gates (a dream sequence)

I find myself walking in the snow on the desolate street with no name. Previous travelers before me have left their footprints in the snow. I carefully pace along the unsullied spots just to see my boot sink softly into the snow with each step. I continue walking on my path and I am not exactly sure of where I am going.

To the left of me, there is a black iron fence with spade-shaped tips on top. Behind that fence, I see small tombstones carefully lined up in rows. There are large tombstones scattered about the place, some shaped like angels, others like crosses. People are standing at a couple of tombstones. Some are weeping. Some are placing fresh flowers before the graves. All of the mourners are wearing long black coats. One lady has on a long dark reddish-black skirt and lace-up Victorian style boots.

I continue to walk on the snow-covered concrete, along the fence that cages the cemetery. One solemn-looking man in a long wool coat and top hat stands before his beloved’s grave. Every tree, grave, and blade of dead grass is covered in powdery white snow.

I wrap my cloak closer to my body yet I feel no cold and continue to walk on.

Baked Irish Oats

1 cup steel cut Irish oatmeal
3 cups skim milk (or soy/nut based milk if you want to veganize)
1/4 cup olive oil
3 ounces of any dried fruit of your choice (I like cherries and raisins.)
2-3 fresh apples, peeled and diced or sliced
spices to taste:
they can either be the prepackaged apple spice blend,
or a combination of cinnamon, nutmeg, allspice, cardamon,
or even your favorite chai blend.

Mix oatmeal, milk, and oil in a casserole dish and set aside while you cut up the apples. Then stir in the dried fruit, spices, and apples. You can arrange the half the apple slices on top all fancy like and dust with spices, but it’s not necessary. They’ll taste just as good.

Bake in a 375 degree oven for 1 hour.

little green men

aliens

If Aliens came to Earth, I would show them around. I’d take them to see the planet’s landmarks such as the rainforests, the polar ice caps, Great Barrier Reef, Mount Everest and Fuji-san. I’d also tell them that most of the planet’s inhabitants are cool, but the human race should be exterminated because we are the true vermin of the planet and do not deserve to survive as a species.

You motherfuckers better pray they do not meet me first.