Mac n cheese n memories

*this post brought to you by Distracting Yourself From the Growing Global Shitstorm*

Every time I make Mac n Cheese (the blue box, powered only – in a choice between chemical poisons, I’d rather have powdered cheese than that petroleum laden orange squeeze cheese from the packet. I have firmly held beliefs on my white trash food), I have the same two thoughts:

First thought, “don’t put the noodles in before the water boils.” And then I flash back to the early 90’s (somewhere between 1991-1993) and the whole family is visiting my Uncle Michael and my Aunt Annette in Louisiana. Well, I think it was in Louisiana, because that’s where we were living, but they could have lived somewhere close. I remember my oldest brother Shayne and my mom were appalled that Aunt Annette threw the macaroni noodles in the cold water – not waiting for it to boil. “The noodles get soggy that way,” he said. At that moment, don’t put the noodles in before the water boils became etched in my memory as a cardinal sin.

It was also during that visit that I had my first encounter with MTV. My uncle had cable, which was something we only dreamed of at the time. I remember my sibs and I would flip to MTV whenever my parents weren’t in the room, and I have a vivid memory of watching the video for Nirvana’s Smells Like Teen Spirit and being creeped out. I thought the cheerleaders were witches from a cult, everyone was trapped in a basement, and that Kurt was being murdered at the end during his blurry, blown out close up. But now that I think about it, my tiny child criticism might not have been far off.



The second thought that goes through my head is, “I used to eat an entire box of this as an after school snack.” Flash back to 1998. I’m 13, and for the past year I’ve been growing like a GODDAMN WEED. My body can’t keep up with everything puberty threw at it: height, acne, FEELINGS, wild and uncontrolled periods, you name it – I got it- except boobs. And “Womanly Curves.” Those never happened. So when I wasn’t stumbling into things, over-applying CoverGirl foundation, glitter eye shadow and brown lipstick (it was 1998), crying and writing super deep bad poetry, or napping for 4 hours a day, I was eating everything in sight. I didn’t know how to make anything except sandwiches, so eventually my mom taught me how to make Macaroni n’Cheese (Yes, I had to be taught how to make a meal that comes with directions plainly labeled on the box. I’ve never been reliable in the kitchen), and that became my go-to dish. I’d polish off the entire box without a second thought*, eat a heaping dinner a few hours later, and still continued to fit in size small pants.

Ah, youth. Metabolism is wasted on the young.

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So there you have it, Macaroni n Cheese n Memories.

Thanks for stopping by! Tune in next time for more riveting journalism.

*no wonder I had terrible acne



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