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Dirty Bomb

I did not forget about Seth Day. Dread my words, for I am dreadful.

This was I, three days ago:

Three Days Ago, Story 10% Complete

This is so neat. I am so smart. I can make this story work. It's practically writing itself! Come mokie, let us think up pretentious hippie health food company names together!

Two Days Ago, Story 30% Complete

Hrm, these Weight Watcher ingredient lists are intriguing character studies. Who needs to calculate food so scientifically except food scientists? How many Points is one teaspoon of konnyaku powder? How many variables do I need to transmute 1 oz. of sugar into grams -> teacups -> spoons? mokie, stop running away from my shoestring research.

Today, Story 40% Complete

This story is horrible! Horrible! I am going to diiiiiiiiiiie! Oh, crap. mokie is asleep. I am friendless and adrift in this cruel world!

Today, Story 85% Complete

This story is still terrible. But I am still writing it. Why am I still writing it? Why didn't I take up Food Science as my major?

Today, Story 100% Complete

I am going to diiiiiiiiiiiiiiiie!

I urgently require a mixed gender audience for Dirty Bomb. They do not have to be both genders at once, though that is a statistical bonus. I need them for more reasons than mere sadistic glee, as calculating Weight Watcher math for three days is no fun, like failing higher-level college calculus exams for two semesters in a row. I need live test subjects because the only way I can know whether or not my specuous mathematics will blow a hole in the known universe is if I have appropriate means of experimenting with them. I also fear my story is one-sidedly gender obtuse. But it is also full of recipes, some might even work, and I'm sure they all taste edible. They would also be surprisingly low in fat, like good macaroons, without the macaroons. I am in great awe of everyone who has to calculate a special diet on a daily basis now. Planning six meals was enough to make me want to claw my eyes out.

The summer harvest has been reasonable, considering that the garden is a bit of shriveled shrub. We have edamame, chillies, figs and sweet potatoes. Due to excessive competition and lack of fertilizer, the sweet potatoes look like interesting swollen penises. What I mean is, they are knobbly and bulbous in entirely the wrong places.

Comments

( 6 comments — Leave a comment )
countlibras
Mar. 2nd, 2006 06:01 pm (UTC)
Weight Watchers math is evil. (when my co-workers start talking about points, I think my brain starts to cry)
vampyrichamster
Mar. 2nd, 2006 06:13 pm (UTC)
I already took 6 semesters of college calculus. *shudder* Weight Watchers math needs no less than an alien mothership.

And the food still doesn't make sense.
scanner_darkly
Mar. 2nd, 2006 06:50 pm (UTC)
I'll read. I might not be able to get you any response until about Sunday, though. (packed schedule)
vampyrichamster
Mar. 3rd, 2006 01:57 am (UTC)
Ah, that's alright. Take your time. For admiring of your kindness, I am. :)
mokie
Mar. 2nd, 2006 09:48 pm (UTC)
Gimme story!

I still maintain that if people would eat real food in proper proportions instead of trying to figure out ways to cheat in cheesecake and live on just-add-water foods, they'd lose the weight they want without the math.

But then, I'm a bastard like that.
vampyrichamster
Mar. 3rd, 2006 01:59 am (UTC)
Gave you story!

I am similarly incensed by these kinds of diet foods. My inner whole foods hippie twitches. Twitches, I say. And then I realize, these folks probably are some variant of yuppie/hippie, and those health foods are just-add-water, and my entire culinary world crumbles to the West.
( 6 comments — Leave a comment )