[For three weeks, Josh & Katy blogsit]
It was one o’clock in the afternoon. I had exhausted herself making mp3 mixes for the last hour, and needed something new to occupy my time.
Instantly, my friend Matthew had a suggestion. You may remember that Matthew’s in grad school, too. Sadly, he’s been a bit more of a worker bee recently than me. Here’s Matthew again:
MATTHEW: Katy, don’t you feel like you should be reading something? You know, for school? Instead of wasting your days away? I’ve gotten all this work done. Shouldn’t you be?
Yikes! That hurt.
Because actually, boys and girls, it wasn’t really Matthew who said this at all. It was my CONSCIENCE, dressed like Matthew.
Granted, there are much worse guises my conscience could take. Wouldn’t it be terrible if my conscience looked like this:
or even this:
At least I’m in the habit of ignoring friends. Because let’s face it, I definitely did not want to be lured to my books on such a lovely (okay, miserably hot and humid) summer day.
Just look at how dull these books look!
I was just about to give Matthew the cold shoulder and oh, I don’t know, make another early American dessert for you all or something, when a BEAUTIFUL ANGEL showed up, and perched on my shoulder…
Katy, dear, you will appreciate it in the fall if you read now…
She was quickly drowned out, however, by a fierce devil…
Why not see what’s on television instead? Make some popcorn, relax. Woof, woof.
Easily persuaded, I went in to make some delicious air-popped popcorn in our vintage 1980s air popper:
I adore popcorn. In seventh grade, I was an exchange student in England. In the late 1980s, at least, popcorn was not quite the popular snack food there that it was in the United States. I felt very sorry for them. Upon leaving the country, I kindly left my host famiy with bags of popcorn, caramel corn and popcorn-flavored jelly beans, feeling that I had done my duty as a human being by proselytizing amongst the infidels.
Back in the days before I got mixed up with Josh, I used to be a microwave popcorn girl all the way. But Josh, it turns out, gets physically ill at the smell of popcorn that has been microwaved. Something about the artificial flavoring, I guess. Athough to be honest it always struck me as pretty candy-ass. Don’t tell him I said so.
Still, I couldn’t give up my popcorn habit — and I couldn’t see making it in a pot with all that oil everyday either. I mean, not with the weight I have to maintain for my modelling career. Although that is a delicious way to make popcorn, mind you.
So we dug up Josh’s mom’s old air-popper and set it to work. Nowadays I’ve really come to appreciate the fresh, pure taste of air-popped corn, unsullied by that yellow, salty, buttery sludge usually found at the bottom of a microwaved bag.
Plus, popcorn kernels are so cheap if you don’t pay for all that packaging! When you buy a huge bagful for 75 cents, you realize that that greedy Orville Redenbacher is committing highway robbery for what he charges for those rectangular packets. Think of all the money you would save if you commit to making popcorn outside of the microwave:
Whirrrrrrrr, said my air-popper. Pop, pop, pop, said my popcorn kernels. The process can be a little loud:
Yum! Delicious fresh-popped corn, ready to be dressed up by just a few spoonfuls of romano, herbs and pepper:
Fortunately, neither my conscience or the Good Angel was anywhere in sight.
So I settled in for a pleasant afternoon in front of the television with my bowl of popcorn:
And why not, Katy? You deserve it.
I sure do, Good Angelina. I sure do.