LOVE has come for you.

Saturday, September 7, 2013

idaho vs yukon gold

Sometimes, like all the time, I feel like a baked potato. Not a beautifully foil wrapped, olive oil bathed, sea salted, wood fire baked potato. No. An electric oven, scrubbed and placed on the rack, gray-skinned, unseasoned baked potato. I'm warm, I'm filling, I'm palatable, I'm B.L.A.N.D.  It is part of my signature mid-western self-loathing. I want to be the most interesting, sultry potato EVER.

All of this tater talk comes today because I was listening to This American Life on my way home from work. The wife of the main character has a lovely voice. You know, I don't need to be a Bosnian refugee. I think, safety and security-wise, this American life of mine is just right.  But her voice. Lovely. ;)

1 comment:

MindiJo said...

Okay. I read this shortly after you blogged about it. And I thought that you meant you wanted to eat a potato. And I was all, "By all means! Eat a potato!" Now, the second time back, I am seeing it how I think you meant to eat it.

I think you are a lot like those amazing truffle fries I ordered when I met you for supper. They were FANTASTIC. I'm not sure if you are a truffle fan or not, but you are what truffle fries are to me. Completely UNbland. Trust me.