How I had the good fortune to find one of the last trolls, and how I slew the beast

(*Illustrations by my awesome colleague Josh Heard, who was inspired by this tale of terror.)

I had the misfortune to run into an unsavory character on the train yesterday. Not that this in itself is anything remarkable, it happens at least once a day. What makes this story remarkable is not that he was unsavory, but that he was A TROLL.

On this day, I was sitting on a bench seat made for 2 people. The unfortunate thing about the bench seat is there is no designation of division of seat. Anyone with common sense (and a reasonably normal sized ass) can figure it out. But on this day, a gigantic ape of a man strolled up to where I was sitting, shoved himself (much like a giant warthog trying to fit through a port-hole) in between myself and the seat in front of me. He then proceeded to whip me in the face with his jacket while removing it, flailing around like an over-sized pigeon, and literally shoved me down the bench with his enormous thighs. As if this wasn’t enough, he stood up, sat down, then shoved me again with his ass while gyrating side to side, then had the gall to ask me to move over.

Clarification here: I’m 5’4″, and weigh about 110 pounds. I do not take up a lot of room on any seat. I also do not like strangers rubbing up against me— especially if they have bloodlines more related to trolls than humans. So I told him as much.

He then responded (grunted), “I asked you to move” (this, apparently, being his justification for physical assault by ham-like thighs and over-sized ass). It was here I realized he must in fact, be an actual troll. Recognizing he must be limited in his understanding of the English language, I carefully explained to him that shoving someone, then grunting at them to move, is not polite, and is not actually a request. I also shared my thoughts about his bloodlines.

I’d like to convey his response, but I don’t speak troll, but the reader can find comfort in my defending myself and everyone else on the train by TASERING HIM THROUGH MY PURSE. Let me explain.

I have a knife and a taser in my bag at all times. This is for many reasons. The knife is for cutting and buttering bread. The taser is for bears, trolls, over-enthusiastic dates, and for threatening beaver when he misbehaves.

”What is a taser?” some of you might ask. A taser is handheld device that sends out an electrical jolt that disrupts the natural electrical communication within the body, but does no permanent harm (unless done for an extended period of time). For exceptional jackasses, an extended period of time is always an improvement. They are already so far gone it almost has a reverse effect and they become halfway decent.

If zapped with a taser for a split second, the bear, troll, or date, will feel a painful (but quick) shock. If tasered for 1 or 2 seconds, he will be dazed and lose some muscle control. If tasered for more than 3 seconds, he will become dazed and confused, unbalanced, and will lose almost all muscle control. Since a taser is high-voltage, it will travel through clothing. But it is also low-amperage, so it isn’t like grabbing hold of a giant electrical fence with both hands (like in Jurassic Park).

The beauty of the taser is this: since most people (save police or millitary) don’t really know what a taser is, or what it does exactly, one can safely taser an unsavory character every now and again with limited consequences. I prefer to use the taser, especially in close quarters like a train, for about 3 seconds. This gives me just enough time to give them a friendly reminder what a  jackass they are, and if that message doesn’t sink in, I’ve already stolen their wallet and am about 5 cars down getting off at the next stop. In this particular instance, I gave the troll enough of a jolt that he didn’t know what was going on, and in all likelihood would not notice where his wallet went until he had his car keys in hand and luggage in the trunk.

On my way to the next car after this quite successful operation, I casually mentioned to the friendly conductor, a rotund, boisterous lady, that the gentleman down the stairs had physically shoved me out of the seat and told me to find another. This always strikes a cord with them; they have to deal with these sorts all day long. I pointed him out, dazed and drooling in his seat, and I let her take it from there.

And that is the story of how I found one of the last trolls, and how I bested him with my cunning. Trolls are very stupid, you see.

quinoa à la senoritas

Beaver doesn’t like quinoa.

As we settled down for dinner last night, a big bowl of quinoa nestled nearby for seconds, beaver was lurking in the corner of the room, suspicious. He was not in a particularly good mood, having seized a box of graham crackers the night before and eaten them all, mistaking them for wood chips. After moaning piteously and making an enormous scene in which he demanded special attention and extra chopsticks for comfort, beaver had disappeared into his blanket and refused to come out for the rest of the night.

So there we were: the two of us, the bowl of quinoa, and beaver. To allow beaver his privacy, we switched on new girl and watched him from the corners of our eyes. He crept closer and closer, until finally he leapt, throwing himself on the bowl of quinoa and, after stuffing his cheeks like an oversized chipmunk, scuttled back to a corner to eat his treat and gloat, no doubt, about his victorious food snatching.

We were watching him carefully at this point, to see his reaction, as beaver had never eaten quinoa before. A look of disgust spread over beaver’s face as he chewed, and he started spitting the quinoa onto the floor. “Beaver, no!” we shouted as we rushed towards him. “Not on the floor!” Instead of listening, beaver flung himself towards the bathroom, leaving a trail of half-chewed quinoa in his wake, his little legs moving doubletime to escape our outstretched hands as we ran after him. We finally cornered him, squeezed behind the toilet, eyes wide and a triumphant smirk on his whiskers. He was filthy, covered in quinoa bits, so we gave him a bath and settled him into bed with his blanket and a wooden coaster.

Beavers are not easy pets.

And finally, our quinoa recipe – not fit for beavers, but tasty for humans!

You will need:*

• 1 tablespoon of butter
• 1 small onion, chopped finely
• 1 cup of pre-rinshed quinoa, uncooked
• 2 cups vegetable broth (we like vegan vegetable bouillion by rapunzel)
• 3 cloves of fresh garlic, chopped
• 2 tablespoons fresh (or dried) parsley
• 1/2 tablespoon fresh (or dried) thyme
• 1/4 teaspoon salt
• 1/2 fresh lemon

1. Melt the butter in a saucepan over medium heat. When the butter is melted, add in the quinoa and onion. Cook together for 10-15 minutes, until both quinoa and onion are browned.
2. Stir in the vegetable broth, and bring to a boil. Cover and simmer for approximately 15 minutes, until the liquid is absorbed.
3. Toss the quinoa and onion mixture with the garlic, salt, thyme, parsley, and fresh lemon juice.
4. Enjoy!

Prep time: 20-25 minutes. Serves 3-4 (or two if you are hearty eaters).

Happy eating!

the senoritas

*recipe adapted from this one.

for the love of books!

I love books. Real, solid, books, with dog-eared pages and frayed edges, books that smell like clean, fresh pages, or old, musty shelves, books containing amazing, fantastic adventures or the dry, stuffy biographies of forgotten rulers. I have a kindle and I do love it, but there is nothing more satisfying than the weight of a book in your lap, or the turn of the pages in your hand. Reading has been my favorite pastime as long as I can remember. Give me tea, sunshine, and a good book, and I will disappear for hours. I am also a book hoarder: I will recommend books, lend books, but will rarely give one away. I can only hope to be like our uncle David one day, living in a house so full of books he has miniscule hallways carved out to make his way from the front door to the far back wall, with book stacks haphazardly leaning, threatening to fall and bury you under their combined weight.

Because of this (near fanatical) love of books, I have spent much of my time in the past week loitering at the pop-up bookstore, Turning the Page, currently located on 17th and K Street NW in Washington D.C. It’s just a block from where I work, so nearly every day I’ve spent my lunch break perusing its shelves and gobbling up books. The books are all donated, so they’re inexpensive, and they have an impressive collection. But hurry! The bookstore’s last day is May 3rd, 2012. This week is supposed to be gorgeous, so step out, grab a coffee, and saunter down to Turning the Page to buy some glorious used books to round out your collection.

Can you find the Saturday swine (disguised as the elusive Sunday swine) in these books I’ve purchased? He loves books, too.

domestic bliss.

merlot is the devil.

Drinking merlot is like drinking liquid satan. It possesses your entire body, steals your motor control and memory, and commonly causes you to wake up stark naked in your bed at 3pm the following day, wondering what on earth happened to you.

It was a Saturday night, and I, with three lovely friends, were at Rocky Mountain Tavern in Seoul for a Christmas-themed ladies night. Each ticket for the ladies night came with wine, dinner, and entertainment. We were running late and missed dinner, so we decided to just drink wine.

The entertainment, to our delight, turned out to be male strippers dressed as santa. For modesty’s sake, the strippers only took the top half of their outfits off, gyrating wildly in enormous red pants with fur trim. While chugging our way through three bottles of merlot, we catcalled and cheered the men on, shamelessly ogling their bare chests. My feet became extra hot from all the stomping and clapping, so I removed my boots and made at least five trips to the bathroom in my bare feet – an incredibly skeezy bathroom filled with broken glass and at least two strains of herpes.

Merlot causes bad things. Two bottles in, you’ll be flailing wildly, thinking you’re dancing like Britney Spears or at the very least, Justin Beiber, and enormous chunks of your night are rapidly becoming shrouded with mist. You down another glass and the next thing you know, you’re being dropped on your head by a stripper wearing santa pants.

From what I’ve managed to patch together, after the men had stopped dancing, I had literally climbed one male stripper, monkey style, and he was hauling me around the bar like a sack of cement. In my inebriated state, I decided it’d be fun to play a game more suited for a toddler than a merlot-soaked english teacher. I wrapped my legs around his waist like I was in some bizarre porn Christmas special, and threw myself backwards, my hands brushing the floor. He dutifully pulled me back up, and I threw myself backwards again – only this time, he dropped me on my head.

No one knows what happened after that. The next – and last – thing I remember of the evening is carefully navigating my way down the steep steps and then emerging onto the streets of Seoul. It was snowing.

I woke up completely naked in my bed the next day, my clothes just inside my front door, and the bottoms of my feet completely filthy. I’d like to say this experience taught me a lesson about the dangers of overindulging, but that would be a lie. There have been many such nights since then – although there have been no more stripper incidents.

almond milk yogurt!

Yogurt + fresh, crunchy granola = deliciousness. It’s a perfect breakfast or, if you’re hobbits like us, second breakfast.

We recently discovered Michele’s handmade granola* at the awesome farmer’s market in Baltimore (the one located under 83, at Saratoga and Gay street), so we have the granola bit more than covered – but when you’re not eating dairy, what sort of yogurt can you have? Soy yogurt is one alternative, and there are several great brands out there. However, we were getting worried about eating too much soy, and so thought we might have to give up eating yogurt altogether.

Meet amande yogurt!

It’s cultured almond milk, which is exciting because 1) I didn’t know you could make almond milk into yogurt, and 2) Eating plain almonds is a bit like eating pieces of wood, so I’m always happy to find a new way to ingest them. On a recent trip to Whole Foods, we spotted amande on the shelf and gave it a shot. The texture is a bit surprising, and you need to mix it thoroughly, but it’s delicious! So far we’ve tried the strawberry, cherry, coconut, blueberry, and peach. It also comes in vanilla and plain, but our Whole Foods isn’t carrying those flavors yet. Amande is vegan, gluten, soy, and dairy free, and is flavored with natural fruit juice. It also has six active cultures, so if you’re eating yogurt for the culture benefits and probiotics, you’re covered.

Hooray for almonds and their multi-purposeness!

the senoritas

* Michele’s granola is fantastic. My personal favorite is the ‘ginger hemp’, but ‘pumpkin spice’ is also really delicious. We’ve been buying the granola from Michele herself, who is incredibly nice and friendly. If you can’t make it to the farmer’s market, the Whole Foods in Mt. Washington carries her granola, as well. Happy eating!

saturday swine.

Last week, a friend came over for happy hour. The weather was gorgeous and we wanted to sit outside, but we have no patio furniture and our patio is currently undergoing a renovation. To create a miniature garden party, Dani dragged our one piece of inside furniture (a little wicker sofa) outside. We had sangria and homemade guacamole, and it was lovely.

Unfortunately, the saturday swine fell in love with the miniature garden party setup, and has been camped out there since, squealing wildly whenever we approach to fend us off. He pops back indoors to find more snacks whenever our backs are turned, and shows no signs of ever giving up his little kingdom, where he lords over our miniature herb garden and the neighbor’s cat.

Enjoy your Saturday!

The Metro is Run by the Shrieking Eels

I’m sure all of you who ride the metro (or any public transportation for that matter) have heard the shrieking garbled announcements at some point. This morning, Katie and I decided the metro must be run by the shrieking eels instead of humans.

don’t be cheerful in the morning, or someone will eat your bird.

Dani and I are sisters, as most of you know. We get along really well, have quite a bit of fun together, and we’ve managed to co-exist in the loft-style upstairs floor of our row home since June. However, sharing a bedroom gets hectic at times – and no more so than in the morning when we’re getting up for work. Dani does not like optimism or cheerfulness in the morning. I do. This sometimes creates bad feelings and resentment.

And there you have it. Don’t be cheerful in the morning, or someone will eat your bird.

The end.

the senoritas!

pescatarian monday!

Pecan-crusted salmon on a bed of baby kale with spinach shallot sauce and roasted sweet potatoes.

Holy mackerel! That sounds amazing!
Ahem. Actually, it’s salmon.

Oh, yes. Feast your eyes, friends, on the deliciousness we made for dinner last night:

Read on to learn how to make this scrumptious dish for yourself!

You will need:

• 12 oz wild caught salmon (Washington state is good this time of year. Otherwise, a trip to your local Whole Foods will suffice)
• 1 cup chopped pecans
• 1/3 cup chopped fresh spinach
• 2 tablespoons dry white wine
• 1.5 teaspoons chopped shallots
• 1 cup hemp milk (or regular milk. or whipping cream. or anything similar will work)
• 1.5 teaspoons fresh lime juice
• sea salt and pepper
• 2 medium sized sweet potatoes, or one huge one
• olive oil

To make the sauce:

1. Combine the spinach, wine, and shallots together in a saucepan over medium heat. Cook until the spinach begins to wilt, about 3 minutes or so.
2. Add the hemp milk and lime juice, then cook until it’s a saucy consistency. This will take 12 or so minutes.
3. Toss the sauce into a blender, and puree. Transfer it back into the saucepan and add salt and pepper to taste. Keep warm on low heat.

While this sauce business is going on, cut your sweet potatoes into little chunks, sprinkle with olive oil, sea salt, and pepper, and bake for 25 minutes at 350 degrees (fahrenheit).

Next, dry off your salmon, drizzle with olive oil, then roll in chopped pecans. Put two tablespoons of olive oil into a frying pan, and heat. When the oil is hot, place the fish face-down into the oil. Cook until done, flipping occasionally.

While you’re simultaneously stirring the sauce, watching the potatoes, and flipping the fish, place baby kale leaves in the center of a plate. Once the potatoes are done, arrange them nicely around the edges of the plate. Place the salmon on the bed of kale and spoon sauce over the salmon. Enjoy!

the senoritas!