Something’s off kilter.  I haven’t wanted to cook in ages.  That is a problem.  It throws everything off.  I’ve been moody, snarky.  Not warm and fuzzy.

photo: wallpapers-room.

 

Apart from the anomaly of not cooking for nearly two weeks (whipping cream and making pancakes does not count, does it?), not much else was different.  I worked too much , my fantasy football team failed miserably (have I mentioned I have no idea about anything football related?), men still make ridiculously stupid , stupid decisions, I’ve been eating an ungodly amount of peaches, and I almost ate a mealworm.

Ok, so , I never intended to eat a mealworm. That was all for dramatic effect (and, I hoped the 8 year old I was with would be braver than I was). 

But the rest?  Yes.

Football is a mystery. I know the basics, touchdowns, fumbles, First Downs, but that’s it.   I set my draft pick thingy to autobid after I spent all my money on the first three guys.  How did I wind up with Rodgers as my QB? Everyone else seemed to want him so I outbid everyone.  Stupidly. But, this week, my team is not in last place. 

Men. Yes, they’re still a breed unto themselves. ( I REALLY want to call them stupid. Really. Want to.) In the last three weeks, I’ve had men ask me out, only to text to reschedule (twice. Only one actually did. The second fell off the face of the earth). I’ve had men send me photos of their genitalia and act surprised when I was pissed off.  I lied to a fourth guy  because I just didn’t feel like going out with him. Ever. 

I know, I know.  I acted like a guy.  And , if I acted like a guy, then maybe that means that my behavior was man-like. Does that mean that their shitty behavior was them acting like a chick? Maybe.  There are men who whine about their issues and do nothing. Hm. Yes – acting a little like a whiny woman.  There are men who lie. Yes, women do too.

It’s not the first time I’ve been surrounded by girly men.  There’s definitely something to be said for men who have a softer side.  

Men with a softer side bring a girl Starbucks while she’s in the shower so it’s nice and hot and waiting on the counter when she’s finished (triple nonfat grande latte).

Men with a softer side will watch a chick flick on occasion.

Men with a super softer side will go shoe shopping with you, or, better, buy shoes for you (one of the best gifts ever – granted, they were from Fredericks…).

So, ok, they’re not all bad.   But being shady isn’t cool, even if women do it too (guilty!).

It all added up to a kinda’ crummy few weeks.

Making pizza didn’t help.

Drinking fabulous cocktails didn’t help.

fabulous sweet bourbon martini at Paparazzi in Raleigh.

Spending two days with an 8 year old didn’t help (but it did make me count my lucky stars that I’m not a single parent).

Eating massive amounts of barbecue didn’t help.

What helped?

My fuschia pumps helped.  Some unexpected flirts helped.  Receiving a second copy of a long lost recipe helped.

The best thing that helped?

Amazing fried chicken with a nice glass of cava at Beasley’s

I normally do not like fried chicken. It’s heavy, greasy. Not the sort of dish that someone freaking out about their thighs and waistline would have as a go-to.

But, I went. And I ate. And it was good, slightly sweet (that would be the honey).

The prices are amazing – chicken and a biscuit for less than $7.  The chicken was as big as my fist. The biscuit was massive.  The accompanying fried green tomato, almost pickly sweet. It was messy, delicious. Indulgent. I felt like that food understood that I was having a crummy week (life), that just because men were losers (except for my Gay Brigade II), this plate of soothing food and cold crisp cava welcomed me with open arms.

photo: http://www.newraleigh.com/

 So did the buttermilk cheesecake with peaches and rhubarb. It was like coming home.

There’s a reason Ashley Christensen gets a lot of buzz in Raleigh.  Based on her menus alone, she’s one rockin’ babe who probably acts like a guy (wait, that’s not a bad thing, all the awesome women I know “act like a guy.” Hell, the best men I know “act like a chick.”). 

That chicken was hot – literally and metaphorically.

I have no idea if the next few weeks will be better than the last few (upcoming: ratatouille and a poundcake cookoff!), but if not, well, Chuck’s (Ashley’s burger joint) is now open, and, hey I bet the burgers are nice and hot.

Wanna come?