Slutty brownie cups, hentai porn, and millennials are trying to kill me

brownie-cup

So, I feel amazing. As I learned from a friend of Strong Jawline (my provider of intercourse for the last nine months), the second trimester is sometimes known as the “party-mester.” That’s mostly because of the pregnancy sex.

But we’re still not living together, so Strong Jawline is not always available. So there’s internet porn. But I can’t watch regular porn with real people because it’s so fucked-up-and-not-in-a-good-way, so I’ve discovered something called “hentai.” Oh, my god! Hentai is Japanese cartoon porn, and the Japanese are INSANE when it comes to sex (also game shows, baseball, and street fashion, but one thing at a time). The shit they think up! Tentacle porn? Bondage? It’s AMAZING. But the most amazing thing is they PIXELATE IT. Not everything — just the MOST IMPORTANT PART: the square inch where one body part meets another body part. IT’S ONLY CARTOONS, but first they think of the most depraved thing they can and then they PIXELATE IT. It’s such a mixed message. I think it must say so much about Japanese culture. I have to search for “uncensored,” which makes me feel like a web-searching porn professional, and then what I end up watching is so weird that I spend half the time feeling oddly excited and the other half laughing out loud at the subtitles.

But Japanese cartoon porn is not the only reason I feel amazing. All that extra oxygen in my blood from the pear-sized alien I’m gestating makes me feel HIGH. Like someone dosed my orange juice with MDMA and cocaine, except I can sleep at night. I’m focused throughout the day. I can’t stop talking. I’m in a great mood. I love people. And now I love my body. I’ve always been an average height and weight, but with a touch of boniness and no boobies. Now? My boob — the bigger one, on the left — does this thing I’ve only ever seen on other women: When I put on my bra, it pooches out on the armpit side. POOCHES OUT ON THE ARMPIT SIDE. And the smaller boob on the right is looking less like a tortilla chip someone taped to my chest.

So in my life these days, there’s only one problem: Millennials are trying to kill me.

I sit next to a millennial at work. Let’s call her F.U.

(Jenny: What should I call you when I write about you? Because I’m going to write about you.

F.U.: You can use my initials. They’re literally F.U.

Jenny: Done.)

The DAY AFTER I wrote a long blog post about my issues with my OB’s arbitrary weight chart and my conflicting feelings about pregnancy weight gain, F.U. brought THIS FUCKING THING (SEE PHOTO, ABOVE) into the office. It is called a “slutty brownie cup,” and it has TWO OREO COOKIES and a LAYER OF COOKIE DOUGH in it. I took a bite and fainted. When I woke up, I asked F.U. why it’s called “slutty.”

“Because everything goes in it,” she said.

I considered F.U. And then, against every instinct in my body, I admitted to a deep respect. Maybe these millennials are OK. NOT ALL BUT SOME OF THEM SOME OF THE TIME.

Then, on the same day, F.U. asked me, “What’s your due date?”

Jenny: (Typing) July 23rd.

F.U.: (Beep beep, boop boop on her phone) Oh, my god! You have the same due date as Beyoncé!

Jenny: (Still typing.)

F.U.: You know, I know your kid is going to be cool, but Beyoncé’s kid might be cooler.

Jenny: (Slight pause in typing. Then, quietly:) Bite your tongue.

Finally, another day as we were waiting in line to get lunch, F.U. said: “I’m on a skeeball team.”

This was the moment I decided to write about her. Because that is the fucking MOST MILLENNIAL THING anyone has ever said to me.

Jenny: You’re on a what?

F.U.: A skeeball team.

Jenny: I don’t understand.

F.U.: I’m on a skeeball team. We play skeeball.

Jenny: How do you … You mean the carnival … I DON’T UNDERSTAND. WHAT DO YOU DO.

F.U.: We play skeeball and then we play against other teams.

Jenny: (I lived through the dodgeball resurgence. I can live through this.) HOW. WHY. How many other teams do you “play against”?

F.U.: About fifty.

Jenny: HOLY BORED TWENTYSOMETHINGS WITH FREE TIME AND ACCESS TO PBR TALLBOYS. (Also costumes. Why do they like costumes so much?)

The worst of it is that F.U. is Italian. I barely know how to process my simultaneous distrust of her age group and my predisposition to assume that we, as Italian Americans VERY far removed from the old country, have something in common. Immediately after my panic attack about skeeball “teams,” we bonded over polenta.

F.U.: You don’t have to love me, but we have the same code.

Jenny: What’s our code?

F.U.: Family food.

(It’s true. See recipe, below.)

One more thing.

Last week I got a Lyft from a millennial. His name was Rico. He did not wear a diamond. (LOOK IT UP, MILLENNIALS. LOOK IT ALL UP.) I have a vague memory of telling Rico the name SJ and I have chosen for our baby. I do not know why. See “good mood” and “can’t stop talking,” paragraph 1. Rico was circumspect.

Rico: Kids are some of the most vicious MCs out there. If they find something to rhyme, it doesn’t matter if it doesn’t make sense. They’ll rhyme it.

Jenny: I have never thought of kids as MCs, but I like your analogy.

Rico: I met my girlfriend in a Target. It was great. She was buying kitchen stuff. I was buying a Lego set.

Jenny: For yourself?

Rico: Yeah.

Jenny: Why? How old are you?

Rico: They’re a good investment. Lego sets are almost as good a value as guns. They don’t depreciate in value.

Jenny: Is that part of what you do? Sell stuff online?

Rico: No. Not really.

Jenny: But that’s your whole rationale for buying these things.

Rico: You have to sit on them for a long time. I have a Star Wars poster from The Phantom Menace I bought in a movie theater for 30 dollars. You know how much it’s worth now?

Jenny: No.

Rico: One thousand five hundred.

(Note: To me, The Phantom Menace came out yesterday because it’s not one of the original films. But I checked, and it came out in 1999, which is 17 years ago. Seventeen years should seem like a long time. WHY DOESN’T 1999 SEEM LIKE A LONG TIME AGO. WHY DID THE SPACE-TIME CONTINUUM STOP FOR ME THE YEAR MOS DEF DROPPED BLACK ON BOTH SIDES.) (Well, here’s one good reason.)

Rico: I have another poster that’s my crown jewel. That poster is worth five thousand five hundred and I bought it off this lady for $125. She didn’t know what she had. I don’t do stocks. I don’t know anybody in stocks to give me tips.

Jenny: You’re not supposed to get insider information.

Rico: Well. You know everyone has people giving them information. You know, like, this stock is going to go up on Wednesday.

Jenny: That’s what Martha Stewart went to jail for.

Rico: I bet on what I know. And I know nerd culture very well. I’m also a film major.

Jenny: Oh, no.

Rico: I’m on a shoot right now. We’re filming in a Victorian at Haight and Stanyan.

Jenny: (Has lived in San Francisco since 1998.) There are no Victorians on that corner.

Rico: I’m sorry but I think you’re wrong.

Jenny: GASP. That street T’s at the park. There’s a nasty McDonald’s and a grocery store that keeps changing hands. Everyone knows that.

Rico: Yeah, no. I don’t mean any disrespect.

Jenny: GASP. (Looks it up on my phone as Rico drones on about his stupid fucking film. Finally interrupting him from the backseat:) I looked it up. I’m right and you’re wrong.

That’s right. I was so pissed at this fucking film school know-it-all for CORRECTING ME ABOUT MY VERY FIRST NEIGHBORHOOD IN SAN FRANCISCO OH NO YOU DIDN’T that the words “I’M RIGHT AND YOU’RE WRONG” actually came out of my mouth, AND I used backup: the computer that lives in my pocket.

Then I tipped him and said thank-you and rated him five stars.

To get back at a millennial, feed them this recipe. If you feed them enough, they’ll get diabetes. You need:

  • 1 box brownie mix (plus ingredients box calls for)
  • 24 Oreos
  • 1 1/2 logs store-bought cookie dough
  • 1 1/2 cups semisweet chocolate chips
  • 3/4 cups hot heavy cream

You need to:

  • Preheat oven to 350º and line a 12-cup muffin tin with cupcake liners.
  • Prepare brownie batter according to box instructions. In each cupcake liner, add an Oreo. Top with a tablespoon-size ball of cookie dough and top with another Oreo.
  • Pour over brownie batter mix until each is almost full, fully covering the top Oreo.
  • Bake until a toothpick inserted in the center of the brownie cup comes out almost clean, 20 to 22 mins.
  • Let cool, then make ganache (THAT’S RIGHT. IT WAS SUPPOSED TO HAVE GANACHE, TOO): In a small heatproof bowl, add chocolate chips. Pour over hot heavy cream and let stand 3 mins., then whisk until smooth and no clumps remain.
  • Spoon ganache over each cupcake and serve.

5 Comments Add yours

  1. Cina Kraft says:

    I don’t even know where to start here, Jen. Suffice it to say starting my day with anything “slutty” is always a good thing. And you can really capture dialogue!!!! Love you and that little oval speck inside!!! xoxoxox

    Liked by 1 person

  2. Slutty is my jam. LOL. Thanks, Cina! 🙂

    Like

  3. Cina Kraft says:

    Jenny, my dear, sweet friend (whom I wish I could swoop down & hang out with you during your newfound adventure into motherhood….)…..I saw this about a year ago on netflix streaming, and highly recommend you do whatever tech thing works for you to see this woman……www.youtube.com/watch?v=Ac_C6Js3Iac Ali Wong You may already know her, but her pregnancy really enhances this routine. Love you – – miss you – – thanks for your amazing life/food photo blogs!!! again: xoxoxoxoxoxoxoxoxox Check this out!

    Like

    1. I will be sure to watch! Thanks, Cina!

      Like

  4. Cina Kraft says:

    ALERT!!!! Shit.. That other site was NOT Ali Wong….THIS is her routine!!!!!!!!!!!! http://www.netflix.com

    /watch/80101493?trackId=13752290&tctx=1%2C2%2C8ac567d7b43fbfa4cf04661495848ec8602260d4%3A3d88872ce04b45ae3984eea3889c8097b2748d77

    Liked by 1 person

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