Eat Me, I'm Adorable

I was thinking earlier was cupcakes.  It seems to be this new phenomenon that cupcakes pop up at every dinner gathering or party or birthday or holiday event that I go to.  It's like Martha Stuart or the late 50s is seeking revenge. 

At least, it seems to be a trend in the all too trendy San Francisco.  And I would speculate that all along the West Coast, there is a growing vegan cupcake phenomenon.  It's as if all these vegans have conspired to feed us wheatless, animaless, sugarful (yes, made up words) cupcakes in order to convince us that you too can be a vegan.  You are not fooling me cupcakers.  You are NOT.  Those things are a floury, sugary mess intended only to delight me in the present, but not in the future!  Nay!  I need my protein.  These canine teeth do not lie.  They want flesh.

There is even one little vegan cupcake in my kitchen as I write this, awaiting the end of its peanut butter frosting'd life.   It was brought by my vegetarian (sometimes pescatarian) friend to a dinner party.  Her girlfriend is a lactose intolerant vegetarian who also has certain food preferences that are comparable to that of a six year old boy, including that mushrooms, Brussels sprouts and cooked tomatoes are a big no no.  I'm going to go ahead and say it: She sucks to cook for.  Because you're like, OK, not only can I not cook meat or serve cheese, I also have to eliminate a variety of utterly delightful vegetables.  However, in her defense she is at least aware of the difficulty she presents.  The trick is to give her sugar.  Much like the aforementioned six year old boy, she could not be happier.  Hence the vegan cupcakes, prepared by her girlfriend, to potentially distract her from the adult dinner.

I live in a world currently on the West Coast where eating can really dictate discussion.  What is that made with?  Is this vegetarian?  Is this vegan?  Free range?  Debeaked?  Does that meat come from a sustainable farm?  Organic?  Inorganic?  Etc, etc.  And I have to say that, I like this.  I like that people are conscientious of their food choices.  I much prefer it to where I grew up in Oklahoma where organic food costs more than it does in California and is not nearly as fresh.  Or to the outskirts of New York where my Uncle made fun of me for my brief vegetarianism.  Truly, California and much of the West Coast is just teeming with deliciousness in ever variety.

So back to cupcakes...of the vegan variety.  Why?  Why so many?  I suppose it's one of the few vegan things you can make that can be done sans eggs without it tasting like a chewy brick.  I also think they show love.  The cupcake is cute.  It says, Eat me, I'm adorable.

Yes, I think I will.

Why Purple Underpants, you ask? (And the effect of American Apparel on our lives).

This blog is my first blog.  And it is about my title choice, of which I am still unsure.  It is also somewhat about sex.  And partly about American Apparel.

I suppose the ring of both "pants" and "purple," coupled with the somewhat dark undertones of "under" kind of pose a sort of appeal to me. In addition, the title brings to mind the first time I slept with my girlfriend. It turned out we were both wearing the same pair of underwear (Or underpants if you prefer) but didn't realize this until our one night stand (which has since turned into a 3 year stand) felt the morning light cast upon the sordid evidence of two matching pairs of women's American Apparel underwear on the floor.  That's right, it was a very lesbionic evening.  We both had a good laugh at this, followed by further laughing as we also could not distinguish the two from each other. As it turned out I wore the wrong pair home, and what tipped me off to their fallacy was the smell. Now, don't get gross on me. I don't mean to say anything about secretions. No, it was the laundry detergent that gave it away. Her detergent had a much different perfumey sort of French smell that my Eco friendly brand.

Perhaps this is the reasoning to my title selection.  More likely, I'm a little tipsy and that's the first thing that came to mind and wah-la it wasn't taken. In reality, these swapped underwears from my previous story were neither Purple, nor Pants, but in fact black. 

Here is the email I delivered the day after this affair:

So, we totally switched underwear. I don't know what kind of detergent you use, but it has a distinctly different smell than mine. And when I say detergent, I really do just mean detergent.

Anyways, thanks for letting me sleep in your bed. Thanks for the drink delivery, the dancing, the great kisses, the hot sex, the ride home and the um, underwear? Wow. When you line up the chain of events like that it really paints a distinct portrait. Should we trade back the underwear? I think we could probably change American Apparel's whole ad campaign with an underwear switch premise...

Hope ice skating ruled.

I am sooooo charming.