#I had Arby’s today too I got a French dip

[golayintheroadlil]

I just binge ate so much shit oh my godI hate myself lmfao

[luv-surveys]

45

Have you ever started reading a book and wondered if you’d read it before? yes i have. What has been bothering you a lot lately? the fact that i’m sick and super behind on all of my homework but can’t do anything about it. What (or who) have you been missing lately? i’ve been missing home lately since i’m going home this weekend for the first time in a few months. Are you trustworthy? i’d like to believe so. Did your parents teach that white lies were ok? they never specified but i was taught that lies in general are bad. Have you ever hallucinated? yes. Do you sleep with your door open or closed? i sleep with my bedroom door open, but i sleep with my dorm door closed. What flags do you have in your room, if any? i don’t have any flags. What (or who) is the best thing that ever happened to you? i’d probably say beginning to play music in fourth grade, as that really set me down the path that i’m on right now as a student in music school. What is the worst decision you ever made? probably beginning to let my anxiety control me -- it led me down a path that i’m still recovering from, a year later. Do you miss college? no, given that i’m in college right now... Have you ever called a teacher “mom”? i once called my french teacher “mom” because i accidentally said “madame” without the d so it sounded like “ma-ame” = “mom.” What is your favorite arcade game? probably skee-ball. i used to play that all the time growing up. Do you feel neglected? no. What school subject(s) are/were your best? definitely french and english. Are you allergic to grass? no. Do you remember to water plants? no... hence why i don’t own plants anymore. What season is your birthday in? it’s in fall. Name 3 creative people you know. my friend sophie, my friend danielle, and my friend dan. Name 3 YouTubers you aspire to be like. i’d say aspen ovard, jasmine from tbhstudying, and ava jules. What color was your first car? i’ve never owned a car. What year did you graduate? i graduated this year, 2020. When was the last time you saw the person you currently have feelings for? last saturday. Have you ever been scammed? yes. Are you allergic to pollen? yes :( What style of wedding dress do you like best? probably ballgown. Are you over your first love? i’m like 90% there. Do you talk on the phone a lot? pretty often. Would you rather call or text? probably text. Do you always answer your phone? no, i only answer if i recognize the number. When was the last time you went to a party? there really haven’t been any parties since quarantine started, but my friend did have a birthday in may, so probably then. What was the last thing you ate? chicken noodle soup. What’s the last book you checked out from the library? i checked out like nine books, all young adult fantasy. Do you have a twitter? no. If so, what was the last thing you tweeted? nothing. Who was the last person you talked to on the phone? the guy i’m seeing. What’s the last thing you cooked on the stove? pancakes. What color is the cover of the last notebook you used? white and gold. Who was the last person you know to have a birthday? a girl on my snap. Who sent the last e-mail you got? my flute professor responding to my email about a rental. What song is currently stuck in your head? “look what you made me do” by taylor swift Do you have a favorite shape? probably circle. What color are the sheets on your bed? at home, they’re yellow. in my dorm, they’re pink, What time do you usually go to bed? usually, i go to bed between 11 and 12. Do you ever use coloring books? no. Are you planning on watching the Olympics? when they actually happen, yes. Do you pronounce the word “often” with or without a “t” in the middle? with the t. Have you ever been on a trapeze? no. Do you enjoy popping bubble wrap? yes of course. Are there any waterfalls near where you live? no. Do you like seafood? not particularly -- i do like shrimp, though. Have you ever had to wear a uniform for anything? yes, for marching band. If so, what did it look like? it was a maroon jacket, black bibbers, black long socks, black marching shoes, white gauntlets, white gloves, and a maroon shako. and under we had to wear our tour shirts and spandex/leggings. Do you personally know anyone who is an author? yes, my dad is. Do you own a Polaroid camera? nope. Do you enjoy baking? i love baking! What’s your favorite type of flower? right now, daisies. Last time (if ever) you were on an airplane, where were you going? home from florida. Do you know anyone who is left-handed? i have a couple left-handed friends and family members. What is something you think is underrated? probably classical music. too many people think it’s boring but there are some really amazing pieces. Around what temperature do you consider it to be too hot outside? probably around 85 degrees. In what ways do you expect your life to be different one year from now? i expect covid to not be as big of an issue. How often do you travel outside of the state/province you live in? probably around once a month at most. What’s a hobby you used to have, but don’t anymore? definitely reading. i used to read all the time, and now i just don’t have the time or motivation. What has been your favorite job you’ve had so far? i’ve never had a job. What’s your favorite kind of salsa/dip to go with tortilla chips? probably guacamole. Do you wash your car by hand or drive through a car wash? i don’t have a car. Where is the farthest north you’ve traveled to? alaska. Farthest south? florida. East? russia. West? again, alaska. How often do you run the dishwasher? at my house, we run the dishwasher every night. Do you wash your face at the sink or in the shower? i wash it in the shower. Name a stereotype about your gender that you don’t fit. i don’t enjoy wearing dresses whatsoever. Name a stereotype about your age that you don’t fit. i don’t have any interest in trying drugs or smoking. Do you have any unusual decorations in your home? we have a “butler” named jeeves, a family of elephants on a window sill facing away from the front door for good luck, and a couple other things. Do you have any uncommon kitchen appliances, such as espresso machines, waffle irons, etc? we have a panini maker and other things like that. What did your parents major/minor in in college, if they went? my mom majored in psychology while my dad majored in business. Has either of their careers influenced what career you chose or want to pursue? nope. What is the highest level math class you’ve completed? precalculus. How old were you when you learned how to ride a bike? probably around 7. How old were you when you learned how to swim? i’d say 10ish. How do you react when someone is rude to you? i get annoyed but try to remain sweet and kind so i don’t stoop to their level/they don’t have anything against me. Have you ever had a friend who was too clingy? yes, and it was annoying. What kind of natural disaster is most common where you live? probably snowstorms/blizzards. Why is your least favorite season your least favorite? i hate winter because it’s cold and depressing. Do you have a Netflix account? yes. Have you ever had an animal get into your attic? yeah, occasionally that happens. Where is your favorite place to go on vacation? i enjoy traveling to europe since there’s so much history there. How long does it take to get there? it’d be about a six hour flight. When was the last time you started a “new chapter” of your life? this fall when i started college. What room in your home do you spend the least amount of time in? i’d say our downstairs bathroom -- i never use that bathroom. What is the last random act of kindness you did? i can’t really remember since i’ve been alone and sick for the past few days. Do you do anything to reduce the amount of electricity you use? not really... Are you usually open to trying a new food that you aren’t familiar with? yes, but if it’s some type of body part (like liver) then no. Do you listen to Panic! At The Disco? no. Have you ever had a kinky dream about a celebrity? nope. Is there a song you can’t stop listening to atm? not currently. Has anyone ever told you that they loved you, and you couldn’t say it back? no. If your Facebook status doesn’t get any likes/comments, does it bother you? i never post on facebook. Which friend do you confide in most? the guy i’m seeing haha. Do you wear a cross? no. What is your opinion on Arby’s? it’s good and their fries are amazing. When you have your own kitchen, how will it be done? i’d like an island definitely, and lots of counter space. i’d want it to be an open layout too. What is your favorite doughnut? probably jelly. Do you have a hot tub? If so, where is it located? no way. Did you read the Twilight series, or jump on the bandwagon after the movie? i have never read the entire series or been interested in it. What is your favorite party game? wii party or cards against humanity. Do you or your parents rake your yard? my parents do. Were you pro-Obama? nope, but i couldn’t vote anyway. What is your favorite scent from Bath & Body Works? i think a thousand wishes?  What was the last illegal thing you did? probably speeding when i was driving. Who did you last go to the movies with? i think my sister, her boyfriend, and my ex. What color was the last vehicle you were in? white. Do you have any family members in the military right now? nope. Is there a ceiling fan in the room you’re in? no. When was the last time you wished time would move faster? during my class earlier today. Are there any owls in your room (as decor, of course)? nope. Have you ever heard voices? Audibly? no. Do you believe in angels and demons? yes. Who is the worst neighbor you have ever had? we have neighbors that accuse us of things we don’t do and get into fights with us over stupid things. Did your Barbies go on dates? yes! If you’re not straight, who was the first person you came out to? i’m straight. Where did you meet your first crush? school. Do you remember the first time your first crush ever said hi to you? nope. Do you ever go places with wet hair? occasionally, but i try not to. Who is your favorite little girl? probably my cousin. What do you want the most in life? happiness. What is a decision you’ve made that changed your entire life? my college decision. Do you ever wonder what kind of person you’d have turned out to be if a certain event never happened to you? occasionally, yeah. When you’re home alone, do you still shower with the bathroom door closed? yep, i keep it closed and locked. If you could have anyone’s singing voice, whose would you choose? maybe ariana grande. What are your top 3 favorite genres of music? classical, jazz, and electroswing. Where did you buy your dishes from? i’m pretty sure my mom gets them from williams-sonoma. Do you think Mars will be colonized in your lifetime? not in my lifetime. What’s the most expensive thing you’ve bought that turned out to be a waste of money? probably some type of appliance that i never use. What’s something you’ve bought that turned out to be way more useful than you anticipated? my shower shoes! Have you ever been on a ship? yeah. Do you ever take intentional breaks from checking/posting on social media? nope. Who was Van Halen’s better singer - David Lee Roth, or Sammy Hagar? i don’t know what you’re talking about lol. Which fictional character has the most memorable quotes? maybe dumbledore from harry potter? i can’t think of anyone off the top of my head. What’s a class you did not take in school, but now wish you had? forensic sciences. Have you ever been to either of your parents’ workplaces? all the time. What do you think of the ‘Healthy At Every Size’ movement/philosophy? no... not every size is healthy bruh. Have you ever been bitten so hard that their teeth marks were there after? yes. Ever been given a hickey? (Love bite) yeah. Ever gave one? nope. Are you more of an outgoing type or shy type? more shy. Do you think it’s weird if guys wear make-up like eyeliner? nah. Are you self conscious? If so what are you self conscious about? a lot, but mainly my height and paleness. Are you flirty at all? sometimes. Are you racist at all? no. Would you ever date a disabled person? (Be honest) depends on the disability, but more likely than not, no. If you found a baby randomly by itself what would you do? probably look around for parents, and if they’re not there, contact authorities. Would you rather adopt or have your own child? i’d rather have my own. What would you class as cheating on someone? purposefully seeking a romantic relationship/interaction with another person. Do you try to be politically correct? i try to. What’s your favorite kind of sea critter? maybe starfish. Have you ever tasted locally-made honey before? no. As far as earrings go, would you rather wear hoops or studs? hoops! Do you find P.E. humiliating, or think schools shouldn’t teach it? i don’t think it’s humiliating, but from my experience, i don’t know if it’s worth teaching. Do you recycle? yeah. Are you interested in current world issues? for the most part. Do you think you are mature, or immature? mostly mature. What kind of career are you interested in? i’m interested in teaching or performing music. Do you own a pair of sunglasses? yes. Do you use bobby pins, hair clips, or elastic hair ties? Which? i use all of the above. How badly do you get acne? (If at all) i barely get any acne. What’s the best way to cope with a breakup? remember all the things you hated about them and distract yourself. also, a glow-up and showing off your successes never hurts. If someone dislikes you, what is most likely to be the reason? probably because they think i’m egotistical. How many text messages do you have in your inbox atm? 72. When was the last time you had a difficult decision to make? probably deciding whether or not i should stay with the guy i’m seeing. In school, what subjects do/did you find the most difficult? math! Do you still speak to the person you had your first kiss with? not really. Where did you meet the last person you swapped numbers with? here at college. Who was the last person to add you as a friend on Facebook? a kid from my theory class. Who was the last person that asked if you were okay? my roommate, because i’ve been unhealthy. What does your handwriting look like? it’s pretty bubbly and very neat. Do you use any products on your hair, other than shampoo and conditioner? yes, i use dry shampoo and dry conditioner. Who were your best friends in primary school? lindsey. Do you still speak to any of them? nope. What was the last thing you bought from a vending machine? i think candy. What color hair did your first crush have? blond. What type of shoes do you find the most comfortable? moccasins! Are you more masculine or feminine? more feminine, definitely. If you could design your own mug, what would you put on it? something minimalist, like a tiny illustration. What is the best beach you’ve been to? the beach at ocean city, maryland. What is one thing you physically can’t do? i cannot do a pull-up, nope. Have you ever been to a funeral? yep. Have you ever visited your state’s capitol building? no. Have you ever visited your nation’s capitol building? yes. Do/did you have a favorite seat in church? yeah, the one on the left close to the front. What is your favorite park? probably six flags? or disney? Have you ever felt an earthquake? nope. Do you chew gum regularly? no. Where did you go on your first train ride? i think when i was a baby. Do you know anyone with a dual citizenship? yep. What sports teams do you root for, if any? (Extra points for Boston fans.) i don’t root for any sports teams. Do you dunk your cookies in milk? no ma’am. What is something you are confident about? my eye color. Have you ever been physically addicted to a substance? What? i’ve been addicted to afrin during colds, but i always manage to tear myself away. How do you feel about needles? they’re not great, but i’m not particularly scared of them. What is your favorite accent to listen to? i love scottish accents. What was the reason you last got dressed up? church. Have you ever been the subject of cruel rumors? not really. ^ What were they? -- Do you prefer loose or form-fitting clothing? more form-fitting. ^ What about on your preferred gender? more form-fitting as well. What do you do when you are really, really mad? i go somewhere to be alone so i can cool off. Would you rather go naked than wear fur? i’d rather wear fur, but i wouldn’t like it. Do you put a line through your 7’s? no. ^ What about your Z’s? nope. What is one thing that someone could do to you that is unforgivable? cheat on me if we’re in a relationship. Are you able to forgive and forget? it’s hard, but sometimes. Do you like cold pizza? no. What is your favorite fruit? pineapple! What about your favorite fruit juice, if it differs from solid fruit? white grape juice has my heart. Do you like broccoli and cheese? i’ve never had it but it sounds yummy. What about potatoes and cheese? oh yeah that’s good. Have you written a letter by hand, lately? To whom? yep, to the guy i’m seeing. Toaster or toaster oven? toaster. What are you most known for? being a musician haha. Do you have any reputations? What are they? i don’t believe so. Do you wear band shirts? nope. ^ What band was on the last one you wore? -- Do you own any hats? Describe them. yeah, i own a black adidas cap and a white cap. What about masks, you got any? Describe those. oh, i have plenty... thanks covid. i have a black one, a white one, a pink one, a brown one, a green camo one, and a blue floral one. What was the last thing to leave you speechless? probably my flu since it hurts to talk LOL. Do your parents like your friends? If they don’t, why not? yep. Have you been called a bad influence? no way. Describe your favorite pair of socks. i like all my pairs of black socks. Have you experienced any life-changing news, events, etc, lately? not really. Have any self-done piercings? nope. Ever pierced someone else? nooo. Do you get distracted easily? sometimes, but not if i’m focused on homework. Is talking to strangers enjoyable for you, or stressful? it’s stressful usually. How do you feel about getting new neighbors? it’s exciting! How many ceiling fans are in your home? one. Do you tweet your life away? nope. How do you feel about shameless self promoting? i don’t mind it if it isn’t too in the way. When reading words. like. this. do. you always pause after the periods? yep. What about screaming when reading something IN ALL CAPS? uh-huh.

[toomanysurveys9]

It’s been awhile.

Do you put sugar on your Coco Krispies? I do not. It would be too sweet if I did. If you had a pet anteater, what would you name it? Hm. I’m not sure. I would want to see some of its personality first, I think.

Do you prefer house phones or cell phones? Cell phones. I hate our house phone. It mostly rings for, I’m assuming, scams. Don’t you just love it when guys sing to you? I’ve never had a guy seriously sing to me. But it would be sweet. Are your nails long or short? On the shorter side.

Do you ever wear headbands? I do not.

Ever took dance lessons? I have not. What does your hair look like right now? Probably gross. I need a shower. What is your favorite show to watch on Food Network? I used to watch Guy’s Grocery Games or Chopped a lot.

What type of mp3 player do you have? I don’t know what brand it is right off hand. I only have 58 songs and I haven’t used it much so far. What is your favorite kind of cookie? M&M probably. What was the last compliment you received? I don’t remember. What are your thoughts on destroying rainforests? It pisses me off. Who will be the next person you kiss? Probably Jacob because I will probably take the kids up to bed after this. Have you ever made your own icon? I think so. Are you a bookworm? I am. I don’t get to read for fun nearly as much as I would like. What did you have for dinner yesterday? So it’s technically Monday now since it’s after midnight, so Arby’s roast beef sandwich. Who was the fifth person to call you today? Wyatt has my phone but I don’t think five people called me today anyways. Can you play the saxophone? Nope. Have you ever heard the song Can’t Be Saved, by Senses Fail? I don’t think I have. What color carpet is in your living room? Hardwood floors, thankfully. Have you ever been on a rollercoaster? YES! I love them. I just got to go on a couple a couple weeks ago when we went to Florida. What color is your computer mouse? I have two. A light blue color and black and white one. Ever eaten an entire can of whipped cream in one sitting? Gross. No. That’d be too much. Do you like sunglasses? I only wear them when I have to. Have you ever been sung to on your birthday in a restaurant? I have. Many times. Do you have any gray hairs? I do not. Do you like black olives? I do on pizza and subs from Subway. Do you own a pair of toe socks? I haven’t even seen those in so long. I used to love them as a kid though. Lol. How about a designer purse? Nah. They don’t interest me. Doesn’t it get you mad when people don’t admit when they’re wrong? It can be frustrating, but I think everyone does it to some degree sometimes. What kind of camera do you have? I have a Canon Rebel T7 and then my phone. I mostly use my phone.  Do you love pancakes? I don’t love them, but I enjoy them sometimes. What about chips and dip? Depends what kind of chips and dip we are talking about, but I do enjoy some a lot. Like chips and salsa or potato chips and french onion dip. Did I get you hungry? Not really. What time is it? 12:19 AM.

[clickairadio]

CAIR 37: I DON'T HAVE THE TIME To Do ONE MORE THING !!

In this episode, we look at why I don't have the time and you don't have the time to do one more thing.

Hey, everybody, welcome to another episode of ClickAI Radio. All right, who's got the time? You know, as I work across a lot of different companies, that is one of the common themes right from company to company. It's everyone's slammed everyone's busy, who has got the time to do one more thing, you constantly are struggling, each of us are with a I don't have the time or the energy or the resources to get things done. And the stuff that really matters. I would even add that that applies to this whole AI business. Right? Which is okay, fine. I got some AI insights, Holy smokes, don't have the time to actually do this. You know, think back to the last time you implemented something in your business, and it took longer than what you expected. That is a recurring theme across tons of projects, tons of companies. So how on earth?

Could it be any different with AI? You know, I've, I've always liked Ted, you know, Ted.com, I just love the format of they figured out sort of this formula of Hey, if you, if you do it in less than a 20 minute conversation, we seem to have time to watch one of those right or to listen to something that someone's prepared. That actually takes more work, doesn't it to actually get it small enough, in fact, wasn't a Mark Twain that said, Hey, I would have written a shorter letter, but that would have taken more time. So it actually takes more time to produce things in a more succinct way. So the question is, what are the things that we do take time for? I've come up with a moniker that I use to help me describe that I call it click time, a click time is seven minutes, right?

So I look at things in terms of click time units, am I willing to invest seven minutes of my time into something? And so as we've seen and applied AI to multiple organizations, we'll take a look at how many click times did it require of their time? And how many click times did it require for them to be able to then make a decision? You know, each of us wants to know what needs to be done, but in simple steps, and then you want to be able to get the guidance in a short time, and then move on with it. I was fascinated with this when I started to look at how much time did it take for us as humans to get through a drive through a drive thru restaurant right for fast food. So I started looking for some stats on that. And I found something interesting. This is from 2018 research.

There's some a little bit newer, but for whatever reason, I grabbed the 2018. One, our Here we go. So this is the amount of time that we're willing to invest. So right we make the argument, I don't have time, and yet we still spend our time on things. In what chunks do we do that? Well, this is in this is in descending order. In other words, the first one that I read off to you is the one that takes the longest. All right. Now what this means though, is that just because it takes the longest, right? It doesn't really mean that it's the worst drive thru, or could it also be a function of, hey, there's a lot of people that want to go there. It's probably something between the two of those, right? So for example, the one with the longest wait time in 2018. Now for the drive thru was McDonald's. It came in at four minutes and 33 seconds. That was the average. All right, so if you want those chicken nuggets or for me, it's the Egg McMuffin. All right, you're gonna wait four minutes and 33 seconds. That's less than a click time. All right, the next one is chick fil a four minutes and 21 seconds. And then we've got Carl's Jr. Four minutes and 13 seconds. And again, these are average wait times. party's four minutes and 16 seconds.

And then we drop we break the four minute barrier just like you know we did that with running the mile, right? We Break the four minute barrier, we've got Arby's, and Taco Bell come in about the same three minutes and 58 seconds. Wendy's comes in at three minutes and 46 seconds, which I have to say the frosty is, I'm really, I'm really, I really liked the frosty, especially when you dip the french fries in it, alright, anyway. And then we got KFC, three minutes and 39 minutes, Dunkin Donuts, three minutes and 21 minutes. And finally, Burger King coming in three minutes and 13 seconds. All right. So the average turns out to be three minutes and 56 seconds in order for us to get whatever that is that we're targeting going through the fast food line. All right, that's less than a click time. So I'm willing to invest time as a human least here in North America, to get through the line, so that I can get one of those items. So maybe I do have time, maybe maybe it's where I'm going to allocate my time. Now, one of the problems of some of the AI providers, as you probably know is that it takes a lot of time. In fact, in my previous podcast, I mentioned the effort, right, we looked at some some research and stats of the effort and the cost that it takes just to stand up the data science team to do this, right. It's massive, right? In fact, there's an SMB owner, it's too long of a time and effort before he can actually get any sort of results out of it. So I was reviewing a recent case study where a small to medium business had used an AI platform.

And this is a different platform than then what most of these are, in fact, this platform recently got some accolades. Anyway. So within 30 minutes of loading their data, and seeing the AI analysis, right, so after the models were built, okay, they identified $3 million in additional sales opportunities. Hey, that's like four click times right? Now, I have to admit, that's not a very common amount of time, right in order to get those kind of results so quickly, right. But it's also pretty amazing to see that kind of result as well. I'd say it another way, that's about seven times through the McDonald's drive thru. So that company, they went through for their chicken nuggets seven times. And in that period of time, they're saying, they got some AI insights that led them into $3 million of additional sales opportunities. Wow, that's pretty good return on your chicken nugget. All right. Now, if you were diligent, right, which you are as an SMB owner, and you do the work to run your business.

In the course of doing that, let's say that your critical business information was being safely and securely monitored by AI. And that you didn't really have to actually set up all that AI, let's say that the AI was working on your behalf. And then when the AI found something, then you'd be notified. And now you can use it as an augmented intelligence tool, which is really where AI fits in today's world, right? It's take all the good things you already know. And then you're going to take a few click times, right? A few times through that McDonald's drive thru, metaphorically, right? To look at that insight and see, is it relevant? Can I apply it? It may take you, let's say 10 times sir McDonald's drive thru, to be able to put the decision together to make a change in business direction. All right. That's might be not the norm. All right.

But in any event, when you look at what the big companies are dealing with, and there's a ton of time that they put into and massive teams, in order just to start getting those insights, you start realizing that as a small to medium business owner, you actually can compete against the large organizations by applying AI in a manner that allows you to allocate small time slices to get the AI guidance to increase your sales growth. Now, to learn more about this, I'm inviting you to join me on a webinar on this Thursday at 1pm. Eastern 10am Pacific, and I'll invite you to come register at ClickAI.com/BreakTheTrap.

ClickAI.com/BreakTheTrap

I'd love to tell you more about how it is that as a small to medium business owner, you can get the results in a quick time. Thanks for joining and until next time, find some time

Thank you for joining Grant on ClickAI Radio. Don't forget to subscribe and leave feedback. And remember to download your FREE eBook visit ClickAIRadio.com now.

Check out this episode!

[ecotone99]

[RF] Foodie (~4500 words)

Warning: Contains some violence, as well as swearing and some mention of sex. I don't think this is very risqué, but I submitted it recently for a creative writing class. Most students liked it, but one guy thought I should've warned people before they read it. So I'm erring on the side of caution.

Also, some may consider this horror. I do not, and so I didn't tag it as such.

​

Foodie

Carol Wilkenson was a foodie. It was a title she wore with pride, the way other women her age might casually mention that they or their spouse were chiropractors or paralegals. Tell me about yourself, Doug had asked on their first date. Her answer was as obvious as it was immediate.

It was their twentieth anniversary. Carol marked it on the calendar in bold red sharpie, her mouth turning into a cheshire grin as she X’ed out the box. Today was not going to be just another Wednesday. Today there would be romance. Today there would be sex—and not just of the five minute variety. Today there would be a wonderful dinner, prepared by Carol, as she had nearly every night since her honeymoon. And perhaps most importantly: today she would cook not out of habit or familial obligation, as had happened every afternoon for the past few years, but with that elusive magic ingredient her mother always told her about: love. That invisible spice that makes everything smell; taste; feel more vibrant and linger in your memory for years after it happened; playing like a tableau vivant in your mouth. The spice that had for so long been scarce was ready to be recaptured.

Doug joined her for breakfast. He picked up the sports section. And said:

“Good news: the Bills are making the playoffs.”

She smiled. She thought he was joking. Then, he courteously thanked her for breakfast, as he had every day since their honeymoon, tightened his tie, and walked cheerily out the door.

It was only after the screen door screeched to a halt that Carol realized she had broken her honey dipper. Its neck lay strangled in two pieces, one of which bit into her palm. Some of her blood mixed with the honey remaining from Doug’s cursory oatmeal.

“Oh dear.”

Carol sucked on her palm (the honey and blood made it sweet and salty, like some exotic fruit), threw the honey dipper in the trash, and washed her hands, careful not to drive the few remaining splinters further into her skin. She bandaged the wound. Then, she woke up Meg and sent her off to school. Carol insisted that her daughter eat some kind of nutritious breakfast, but she only settled for the desultory Honey Bunches of Oats.

She wished Meg would eat more out of her comfort zone. But Meg did not share her adventurous spirit. A few years ago they had a trip to Bangkok for something involving Doug’s work. Carol didn’t remember exactly what. Doug brought the family along, which made it an exciting opportunity for Meg to learn about other cultures and imbue in her a love of food. But whatever they ordered (on big communal platters, common for Asian restaurants), no matter how exotic or mundane, Meg took one bite, slid her plate back, and said “I’m good.” And Doug was somehow worse; she shuddered to think of the memory.

“Have a good day!” she called out to the bus, which was patiently waiting with its STOP sign extended like an enthusiastic middle finger. Meg didn’t look back.

Carol hung her head and busied herself in the kitchen. It was still her anniversary, and she and Doug would have the best goddarn dinner the two of them ever had. And they’ve had many excellent meals. In Venetion diners and Parisian cafes. Black risotto and escargot. Frog legs and couscous. Cajun food that upset Doug’s stomach so much that he couldn’t handle a second bite. All the organic, orgasmic food they ate in all the wonderful, envious places they traveled. Before she made a pitstop in her local Walgreens. And that little plastic stick showed two lines, not one.

They stopped traveling and settled down. They couldn’t raise a kid on the go, in cramped hotel rooms and seedy bathroom changing stations. Still, Carol had loved her career as a photojournalist. It took her to all the places where the best cuisine was hiding. Some of her work was pretty well reviewed too, making waves in the small and esoteric community of photojournalism.

But that wasn’t compatible with a child. The last interesting thing she ate—interesting and good, not the Arbys that gave her food poisoning—was her daughter’s placenta. It was mostly made of blood cells, and was entirely tasteless. She finished it more for curiosity’s sake than enjoyment factor, but it only made her long for the savory, dramatic dishes of years past. As she had sat there, unenthusiastically consuming, she felt like a cow that chews its own cud. Then, there was Doug, who had walked into the kitchen at just the wrong time. He saw the placenta, opened from its styrofoam box that the hospital sent home, per her request, like a perverse McDonalds Happy Meal. Then, he had made a face—the same fucking face—as Bangkok.

Her daughter’s bowl shattered against the fridge.

“Fuck you!” she screamed at the picture of Doug, pinned with a magnet and now soaking in spilled milk. Like the milk puddling on the pool, regret immediately seeped in.

“Oh, God. I didn’t mean it.”

Unconsciously, she bit the back of her hand. Chewing it, testing the muscles and tendons as her fingers flexed. It was an unconscious habit of hers, like Meg when she bit her nails or Doug when he pulled at his tie. She never bit too deeply, just massaged the back of her hand with her teeth. Feeling her teeth grind across the heel of her hand, fleshy as a ripe apple and underlain with tendons taut like piano wire. Her habit was a strange one, but not unheard of. She figured it was the same self-affirming way an infant sucked its thumb; built from a natural yearn to find comfort using the only means at its disposal.

She heard that fingers snap with the same strength it takes to crack a baby carrot. It was an interesting thought: that such a precious instrument, the nimble and adroit hand, could break so easily. Dipped in hummus and eaten like just another Super Bowl dish. She wondered, fleetingly yet not for the first time, what human tastes like.

It was surprising that she didn’t already know. Over the years, she had sampled a king’s ransom of dishes. On her trip to Venezuela, building houses for those displaced in Hurricane Isidore, she was offered local meals from the grateful inhabitants: goat’s blood and guinea pig, the first of which was customary, the latter of which was a delicacy. She gratefully accepted both. Neither was particularly good, but at least she tried them, and that was the ethos of being a foodie, she had explained to Doug. Five years later, they went to the New York State Fair. Doug, hungry and unwilling to wait for their reservations at Le Pamplemousse, a fancy french restaurant twenty minutes from the fairground, bought a stick of fried butter. He offered her half. When she refused, he educated her on the ethos of being a foodie. She chewed. She swallowed.

In a moment of curiosity, she turned to Google for answers. What does human taste like?

After fifteen minutes of patient scrolling and several clickbaity headlines, she found out that humans tasted, strangely enough, like pork. You probably wouldn’t taste the difference if served side by side, the website explained. Is that a challenge? Carol jokingly thought. With her foodie taste buds, she was certain she could sniff out the difference. Not that she would ever try, though. As if.

While she thoroughly wiped the picture of Doug, Carol apologized to his image. She didn’t hold anything against her husband. Nothing. On the contrary, he had supported her in hard times. When her father passed. When she had her second pregnancy scare, this one (thankfully) false. And of course, his constant companionship to all those places—Marseille and Istanbul and Galway and Marrakesh.

The last of the ceramic fragments were deposited in the trash. The milk was puddled up with a dish towel, then thrown in the laundry bin. Carol got back to work.

Last month she was skimming through the Food Network and came across a fascinating recipe: hot and sour soup. She had always wanted to try it out, but never got around to it. Paired with her signature linguine and clam sauce—a dish that always appealed to Doug’s taste, the Wilkensons could have a perfect anniversary dinner. She went to the pantry, which was overflowing with jams and spices after twenty years of marriage, and selected her ingredients.

White pepper. Onions. Vinegar. Bottled mushrooms. Jarred olives. Some shrimp from the fridge. Mozzarella slices. Bits of chicken, diced like cheese. Eggs, but not too many; she didn’t want her final product to be too “slushy.”

As she mixed, chopped, sautéred, and cooked, she cheerily hummed All You Need Is Love to herself, a song that played at her wedding.

She finished the soup and went to work on the linguine with clam sauce, which by now was as habitual as brushing her teeth while Rachel Maddow gave her the news. She lingered in the pantry and brought out her spices—fourteen in all, although Doug admitted that he could only taste three. By now, she had calculated that it took two trips to the pantry for linguini, and one perusal of the fridge.

Spaghetti and bowtie pasta, finely mixed. Olive oil. More onions. A clove of garlic. Lemon juice. Parsley. A dash of Maruso soy sauce. A sprinkle of salt. Tomato sauce, but not too much. Minced clams.

Lastly, Carol went to the cellar and brought up a bottle of Château Margaux. At half a grand, it was the most expensive wine they owned, a wedding present from Doug’s childhood friend, some rich Wall Street guy named Joe, not yet humbled by the crisis of ‘07. Doug had stuck it in the basement, saving the bottle for a special occasion. Carol figured two decades was time enough at last, and stuck it in the fridge.

Oh dear! She thought with a start. I almost forgot the carrots!

She looked at the kitchen clock. It was three minutes short, but Carol realized it was nearly four. Where had the time gone? Doug would be getting back from the office around now. Meg would soon join them—she had soccer practice until five. A teammate’s mom was driving her home.

Carol cursed herself for the two hours she spent watching The Crown while letting the chicken thaw, then cook. As she hurried to chop the carrots, her mind wandered again to Olivia Coleman, venerable and austere as Elizabeth II. Carol was so far removed from all those ladies in the show, who would never burden themselves with housework (they had servants for that), but instead perform diplomatic duties, making speeches and traveling to foreign countries. To Carol, it was more and more unlikely she would ever work or travel again. After her stint as a photojournalist, she worked at home for a couple years, putting her English degree to use writing advice columns in a American Woman, a near-unheard of women's magazine. My boyfriend left, someone would write in. My husband’s not talking to me. She always gave some fancy variation of the same answer, which could be distilled to: Get a grip, girl! You’re a grown-ass woman. Take charge of your life.

Now she felt like a terrible hypocrite, an unemployed housewife with no career prospects, fussing over the thickness of Doug’s hot and sour soup. She paused from chopping carrots, bit her hand, then resumed the task. How could she have ever had the audacity to write such advice?

It had been 2007 when she quit the magazine, when Meg entered the terrible twos and ate up all her time. For the time being, she had said to Doug. But they both knew it was permanent. After an exciting and successful career as a photojournalist, anything less was cripplingly depressing. Better nothing than something less. And they both knew it wasn’t Meg’s fault. If it was, she would’ve had an abortion. She was an independent woman. Neither of their families were picky about things like that. It was just… they both knew—although neither he nor her said anything—that they’d have to stop traveling and settle down. Grow up. Move on with their lives. It was time.

It was time.

“FUCK!”

She looked down at her hand, spouting blood from the tip of her pinkie finger like a water balloon with a hole. The knife rattled against the cutting board. Blood trickled on top of the cut carrots like the decorative sauce drizzled over hors d'oeuvres at some fancy eatery. Carol knew from years of restaurant experience that this was called plating. The top of her pinkie lay with the carrots; just another delicacy.

She hurriedly covered her hand with a wad of paper towels. It soaked through.

She rushed to the bathroom and threw open the door above the sink. Toothbrushes and bottles of aspirin clattered into the sink as she found the bandages. Wielding her teeth like some disgruntled animal, she tore open the box of bandages, then struggled with the waxy strip, tears welling in her eyes and blank black painspots eating up the foreground.

When the bandage was on and she felt healed enough to move, Carol wiped up the blood. Much of it was dried and black.

Black as elderberries.

Carol looked over to the cutting board. The carrots lay there, all in a row, quiet as a crime scene. She used the knife, still bloody, to scrape the bleeding carrots into the trash. Then she stopped. The finger was still there, an unpainted nail like a postal stamp in the corner of the cutting board. It clung on by a sticky glob of blood. Carol recalled a time when she read Meg a book of scary children’s stories.

(Meg was really into that stuff as a kid, and Doug thought something might be off with her, as if she was destined to become the first female serial killer.)

As one story went, there was a boy who ate some soup with a toe in it. After dinner, he’s sent to bed. He’s later haunted by the toe’s owner. Where is my big toe? Where is my toe? Carol always thought that was the scariest of all the stories. But even still, gazing at the piece of truncated pinkie like a crumb of meat left on the plate, it looked kind of… appetizing.

She set the cutting board down. Then, moving quickly as to not regret it, she peeled the finger off the cutting board and threw it into her mouth, nail and all. It caught in her throat for a moment, and for a second she was sure she’d choke on her stupidity, but then it gave.

Down the hatch and ‘round the corner, she thought. Then, out loud, with an air of awed tranquility:

“Tastes like chicken.”

She laughed at her crack, then tended to the mess. She washed the cutting board, not caring about chopping another carrot. Doug will just have to go another day without any carrots, that’s all. He’ll manage.

*

Doug wheeled his Prius into the garage at 4:30 p.m. By then, the linguine was sizzling on a saucepan, and its tangy scent permeated the house. Carol was ecstatic.

By now, he would have remembered their anniversary. He must’ve felt horrible (just horrible!) all day at work, upon remembering, with a start, that today was December 2nd. He would walk through the door and drop to his knees, exalting her with compliments and pleas of “I’m sorry,” and declaring his commitment to marriage. And love for her.

And this morning? It was just a fluke. His morning coffee hadn’t yet set in, and he was groggy and disoriented. He had forgotten their anniversary, but only for a minute.

The door opened with an anticipatory groan. Carol breathed deeply. The smells of her fresh cooking intermingled in a miasma of spice.

“Hey,” he said, with all the gusto of a cottonmouthed telemarketer. Doug walked into the kitchen. He hung his coat. Slipped off his shoes.

“I prepared a nice dinner for us,” she said.

He said nothing, just trudged into the living room, sat on the couch, and flicked on the evening news.

Not even a “smells good.”

A minute passed. Carol saw a chime on her phone. From Meg.

“Meg’s at Amy’s house,” she told Doug. “Says she’ll be back at nine.”

“Okay.”

“We should eat without her, just the two of us.”

“Okay.”

She set the table and placed the linguine on a dish, carefully so, like an offering on an altar. She did the same with the soup, and stirred it lovingly. She blew into the steam as if in prayer.

“What’s this?”

“Hot and sour soup.”

When she saw the disgruntled look on his face, she added:

“It’s Asian cuisine.”

“Chinese food,” he said dejectedly.

“Doesn’t it smell good?”

“Yeah,” he conceded.

They ate like mannequins, miming out their movements as if reading from a script. Pick up fork. Stab bowtie noodles. Swallow.

“Anything interesting happen at work today?”

“Same old, same old.”

Test spoon in soup. Raise it to your lips. Swallow.

“You haven’t touched your linguine,” she says, once he had finished the soup.

“Sorry. Do you want it? I’m not in the mood for this stuff again.”

This stuff again. This stuff again.

Those words played in her head, round and round, heating up slightly, like the plate in a microwave.

“No, I’ll just put it away.”

She took the plate and ducked behind the kitchen counter. Retrieved a large tupperware. She tilted the plate—a move so simple yet to her as melancholic as the R.M.S. Titanic sliding into the Atlantic. Most of the plate sludged into the plastic. But some noodles remained.

This stuff again.

She took an oversized cutting knife and scraped them off, trying to get as much of the clam sauce as possible. The knife shined silver, the sauce was white as semen.

“It was good,” Doug said, and Carol couldn’t help but smile. She deposited the tupperware in the fridge, and, positioning her back to Doug to cover his view of the kitchen, discreetly removed another item.

“I’m glad you like it. But there’s more.”

With that, she heaved the full weight of her body against the corkscrew wine opener and popped the bottle of Château Margaux.

Pooompf!

Bubbles instantly fizzed up; tiny iridescent balloons in celebration. Like whitewater on a beach. Carol smiled, so lost in thought that she barely understood the words coming out of Doug’s mouth. They must’ve echoed three times around the kitchen before they reached her eardrums.

“Are you crazy?!?”

“Huh?” she was still smiling, pouring the green bottle into the first of two wine glasses.

“That’s Château Margaux!”

“I know,” Carol says, hesitantly at first. Then, with a firmer voice:

“That’s why I’m pouring it.”

“That was from Joe Briggasson. We were supposed to save it for special occasions. You just opened it. You ruined it.”

Carol couldn’t stop herself. As she spoke, she strangled the neck of Doug’s wine glass.

“Special occasions?”

She laughed, a hollow cackle that scared her more than him.

“Ruined it? Did I, Doug? Did I really?”

Anger crept into her voice in the same sneaky way she found herself humming along to a tune in the supermarket she didn’t know was playing.

“Yes, you did!” Doug said. “You’re supposed to sit on that for a few decades.”

“Oh, I’m sorry, Doug.” Carol said, with mock sympathy. It was a tone unfamiliar to both Doug and herself. “I guess twenty years of marriage wasn’t enough for you.”

“Twenty years? Twenty...” he trailed off, head turned toward the calendar behind her. Red sharpie accused him. Red like blood.

“I told you, honey.” he said, getting his voice under control. “This morning. I said Happy Anniversary. You must’ve forgot.”

“Liar!”

Shmakkkk!

Carol looked down. Her hand had thoroughly choked the neck of the wineglass. It lay shattered, its glass spread out on the linoleum floor like petals of some deadly flower. Puddled with blood and $500 wine. It was the third time she cut her hand today. That’s a hat trick.

“Oh, Carol,” he said sadly, condescendingly.

“Here, let me help.”

The chair pushed back. He went into the kitchen, wearing a face of both sympathy and disgust. It was the look he wore in Bangkok. Bangkok. The beautiful city with the grilled octopus that Doug was too afraid to try and looked at her funny when she did, as if he had walked in on her performing fellatio on another man. The disgust he wore never left her memory. It was such a minor grievance, so silly that they never talked about it. One of those inconsequential peccadilloes that married people are supposed to forgive, and, if God forbade, forget. But still, like a bad stain, it didn’t seem to fade. On the contrary, it grew. Festered in her mind. Fed there.

She realized, then, that she hated Doug.

She looked at the knife, snuggled in its block of triangular wood.

“Are you cut?”

She didn’t answer. She bit her hand. Most of the wine remained in the bottle, still bubbling up. Up and up and up. Fizzing. Like grease on a skillet.

“Okay, not too bad.”

He inspected her palm. Only a few scrapes. Some blood, but nothing too deep. There was a bandage on her pinkie finger covering the nail, but it looked like Carol had handled that already. So, he crouched down and picked up some of the glass from the floor. Collecting it into a sparkling pile.

She couldn’t look at him. She bit her hand. She looked at the wine. Fizzing.

Like a snake’s hiss.

“I can’t believe this.” he said, head bowed, his balding hair displayed like a half-assed attempt at a monk’s tonsure. “Five hundred down the drain.”

She looked at the block of wood, knife nestled cozily inside. The wine bottle stood beside it. Then, without thinking, her hand left her mouth. She wrung the bottle by the neck and thrashed it against his head. It exploded in a hail of glass and colored fluid.

He doubled over.

“Fuhhh—”

Glass everywhere.

Blood, too, black as elderberries.

Wine, fizzing. Hissing like a snake.

He turned around, and she could see that he fell on glass. Some pieces twinkled to the floor. They sparkled like the spilled champagne. He raised his mangled hands defensively. Fingers bled like the carrots sitting in the bottom of the trash can.

“Carol…”

She pounced on him, driving the full weight of her body into her hand, which clutched the corkscrew wine opener like an epipen. It slid into his throat.

Then, everything was red.

For one fleeting infinity: that awful, scarlet ubiquity.

She blinked, and he was there again. Eyes glazed and trembling like spoonfuls of jello. Beads of sweat on his brow, pustules of blood, drips of wine, all pregnantly static. Lips parted, as if to taste. He managed to croak out one word:

“Whhhhhyyyyyy?”

And she—still draped over him like they were a much younger couple, faces inches apart, ready to do the deed—answered:

“Octopus.”

She twisted the spiral.

He sputtered; twitched; convulsed like having a seizure. She felt every movement. His hands fell sleepily to his side, parting the broken glass.

His mouth was a science project: a volcano oozing magma. Drops cascaded down his chin the way chocolate sauce topped an ice cream sundae. They pooled in his fat neck, which was resting, bonelessly, on the linoleum.

Carol uncurled her fingers from the twisted metal spiral. She looked at them—cut up and covered in both their blood. Like a wounded animal, she licked her fingers.

Finger-licking good, she thought, and released a hollow laugh. Then, she put her mouth to the back of her hand, chewing. Ponderous, but not nervous.

“Oh, Doug. What did you make me do?”

The room smelled sickly sweet, the fragrances of wine and home cooking still identifiable. Its sallange permeated the entire house, clinging like flies to a corpse.

She surveyed the kitchen—all that blood and wine and broken glass, some volleyed across the room—and saw the oven. She looked back to Doug’s volcano face. And knew, just knew, what to do. She kissed him on the lips, wet and still warm. Then she leaned back, licked the blood from her lips, and said:

“You look delicious.”

*

Meg came home at 9:15 p.m. She sniffed the air. Something was off, but she couldn’t tell what, exactly. She shook her head. Meg had had her period this morning, and the smell of blood still lingered.

Her mother was in the kitchen, cooking, though that was usual for her. Even late at night, she always had something in the oven. With her mother, a bowl was always ready to lick, and a good meal perpetually at their fingertips. In recent months, she felt bad about turning down mom’s cooking, saying she wasn’t feeling the chicken parmigiana. In reality, she didn’t want to get fat. She didn’t want to have a nickname at school like Size-Forty Sandra.

But that would change. She would eat what her mother cooked. She didn’t want to hurt her mother’s feelings.

Besides, as far as chefs were concerned, her mother wasn’t half bad.

“Hi, Meg. How was Amy’s?”

“Alright.”

“Did you eat yet?”

“Yeah, a little. Some chicken with Amy and her parents. But I have room for more. What do you have?”

“Let’s just say… mystery meat.”

“Sure, as long as it’s not octopus again. I couldn’t stand that when we went to Bangkok.”

“Oh, no,” her mother said, flashing her pearly whites like a walking, talking dental ad. “Much better.”

She plopped a steaming chunk of meat on a plate and turned around, looking radiant. Meg could not remember the last time her mom looked this happy. She looked ten years younger! Even in the wan light of the kitchen, her wrinkles seemed smoothed, her eyes sparkled with brilliance. There was a renewed bounce to her step as she set the plate down in front of her, all the while grinning ear to ear. To Meg, this seemed almost a comical sight. Because for all this renewed vigor and ebullient veneer, her mother had not noticed what was caught between her two front teeth: dangling there, like a fly entombed in a spider’s web, was a slim sliver of meat.

“Dig in,” she said, and Meg did.

End.

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