Consumed this Weekend:

March 16 2009.

• Hookah. Wine.
• Jugs of water.
• When Morgan arrived after driving up north for half the day, she brought me a cold bottle of Coca-Cola. Delight! How well I'm known.
• 88 cent pineapple bliss and lemon-lime soda. Victoria brought us bendy straws in different colours and a tie-dyed blanket to lounge on. It was The Morning After Picnic, and I wrapped my mother’s shawl around my shoulders and there were three cameras going at once, all clicks and flashes.
• I lost control at the grocery store, wandering those bright aisles with my eyes full of lust. So: a fat, creamy triangle of brie, roasted pepper & tomato bruschetta, foie gras, red pepper hummus, grapes that popped between your teeth. I bought two crusty baguettes. We spent the hours making sandwiches and packed them into the wicker basket Morgan got me.
• Cucumber sandwiches: Very Thin Pepperidge wheat sandwich bread, a thin layer of Irish butter, four slices of translucent cucumber, peeled and cut so thinly. Sprinkle of sea salt. Sliced into two triangles.

“Try the cucumber sandwiches.”

“Oh no, I don’t like cucumber.”

“That doesn’t matter. Really. Trust me.”

“Well, okay fine. Just one bite...Oh god, these are delicious."

• Ham & Cheese sandwiches: same bread. A thin layer of butter, layer of alouette garlic cheese spread, small scattering of grated orange cheddar, two pinches of chopped honey ham, smear of Colman’s mustard.
• Victoria brought Edamame and freshly baked cookies. She’d dipped her thumbs into their middles and pressed, filled them up with strawberry and raspberry jams. They melted in our mouths.
• And there were other days and nights. Two packages of Easy Mac. More sandwiches. More Coca-Cola.
• Vanilla Coolatta on a drive back from finding black skinnies and American Apparel-esque suspenders, beaters, open shirts. Some gay pride knee socks that I would wear later, pulled all the way up, in the sunshine. A hot, toasted bagel with too much cream cheese.
• Today was warm. I wore short-shorts and we studied on the south quad with grapes and smoke in our mouths.
• After the sun went down, we finished the last of the tea sandwiches. Then coffee ice-cream. Creamy, thickly churned.
• The Morning After After, I made my childhood breakfast for Bruiser, Morgan, Hannah, and the skitter boy. (I found blue and yellow eggcups and brought them home earlier this week.) I soft-boiled a full carton of eggs, and carefully tapped open each shell with the side of a teaspoon. Each egg was eaten with a couple spoonfuls of yellow Irish butter (that melted right inside), and a sprinkling of salt. With the leftover Thin bread, I made toasted soldiers dipped into yolk, and crispy bacon cooked in a spitting vat of grease. Mugs of hot Chai latte. I’ve mentioned the taste of heaven before- a ways back in entries- and it still rings true. Hannah said,” This is the best thing I’ve ever eaten.”