November 14, 2014
Welcome to Literally the Worst, an occasional column wherein I shit on all the shit that’s shitty. This week: Food snobs, foods that aren’t potato chips and author bios. Do you think we might hate the same things? Hit me up at [email protected]
Last weekend, I wrote a thoughtful article about an easy and delicious preparation for scrambles eggs, in which I nefariously included a mixture of oil and water emulsified with milk proteins - otherwise known as fucking butter. You’d have thought I suggested using rendered human fat for the outrage it caused. One person stated that they’d make something called “cellulite quiche” if they wanted to ingest a ton (1.5 tablespoons) of butter. Another thoughtfully suggested swapping out literally every ingredient I used in the name of health. I’m sure that’s lovely (just kidding, scrambled egg whites are sad and gross), but you might also recognize it as an entirely different foodstuff.
Like, chill the fuck out, Vani Hari. There is literally no food in the world that isn’t ok to eat in moderation, butter included. People don’t understand that half the food literature they read is just a jumbled mess of healthy-sounding marketing lingo designed to play on your body image insecurities. If you want to be healthy, eat real food in normal quantities like a normal person. Your obsession with making everything you eat as immaculately low-calorie as possible isn’t any healthier (from a mental standpoint) than the girl who eats her feelings. Save that shit for the food blog you write that no one reads. Stay tuned for this weekend’s food post, “How to Beer Batter and Deep Fry Beef Tallow.” Speaking of food…
I try to stay pretty lean and trim myself, so I usually don’t keep much in the way of snacks in my house (except for those Trader Joe’s “Inner Peas” things, #blessed). But I was shitfaced the other night, and on the way home I stopped and picked up a bag of plain-ass Wavy Lays and… holy shit! Have you had a potato chip recently? It was fucking transcendent. I bet I hate half the bag and half the accompanying jar of french onion dip. When I woke up the next morning hungover as fuck, I ate the rest of the bag for breakfast (my email address is above, ladies). NO REGRETS. Every food should be a cheap, mass-market potato chip. Fuck any food that isn’t.
Now, I have no shame in admitting that when I’m hungover on Saturday mornings/afternoons, I’m just as likely to watch this for three hours as I am a shitty college football game. That said, while I’m sure it’s as heavily edited as any reality show in order to shape the desired narrative, fuck these people in the urethra. Do people only plan their dress outings like this because they know they’ll be on TV? Why do you need your entire bridal party and half your extended family to go with you? A special fuck you to the random bridesmaid and/or cousin who shits all over the bride’s chosen dress. Like, do you have to wear it, asshole? If this is really what shopping for a wedding dress is like, no wonder brides exact their revenge in the form of horrendous bridesmaid’s dresses.
I guess my fear is that this show will leech its way into the minds of girls watching it, who grow to assume that the dress buying experience is not complete without drama and over the top pomp and circumstance. Whether or not any wedding dress needs “bling” is arguable, for instance, and it’s certainly true that no dress needs “more” bling. The notion that a wedding dress need cost as much as an economy car is getting out of hand - while it may be your special day, you’re still not an actual princess.
I want to start a show called “Say Yes To The Tux,” which is just 30 minutes of groups of hungover guys running into Men’s Wearhouse at the last possible minute for their fittings.
Ok, admittedly a little nerdy/nitpicky here, but have you ever noticed how Godawful self-written author bios are? What’s funny is that they’re theoretically meant to portray the writer in a unique light, and yet every single one of them reads like they were written by the same person. They always have the same tone, as though they’re trying to say “I’m an authority on things, but I don’t take myself too seriously.” If you don’t know what I’m talking about, find an article on the internet written by some no-name freelancer and click on their name. It will inevitably follow the same formula:
“[Author] lives in a little town called New York where he/she pens thoughts about [Topic 1, Topic 2, HILARIOUS and IRREVERENT unrelated Topic 3]. In his/her free time, [Author] enjoys [Twee/ironic anecdote that attempts to make the writer appear witty and above it all]. Follow [Author] on twitter at [Ultra-clever twitter handle].”
Fuck author bios. If I ever have to do that, I’ll hand someone my driver’s license and tell them that everything they need to know is on there.
Do you think we might hate the same things? Hit me up at [email protected]