#24CC

by Meghan Grammer.

Stuck Inside

-by Kate Donohue

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Shells - by Abby Ringiewicz

The Return of the Vegan Noodles 2 pounds of cooked spaghetti 4 tablespoons of sesame oil 1/2 cup of soy sauce 1/2 cup of rice vinegar 2 cups of peanut butter (make sure it’s vegan—don’t get that Skippy nonsense) You will spend a little too long doing your makeup upstairs because sculpting your eyeliner can be A Process. When you go downstairs to help your co-noodler, she will have already prepared the sauce and started to heat the pasta. She will not be upset, and she will—in her heart of hearts—be happy you changed into acceptable clothes instead of the fuzzy, slouchy pants with a pattern of wide-eyed owls she hates. “Alas! No scallions!” she will exclaim. You will assure her it’s okay, but you will later miss any speck of color in the large bowl of beige noodles. You hate beige. You will help as much as possible by stirring the noodles in the pot, catching strays that fall by the wayside, and providing emotional support when your co-noodler says the peanut butter sauce looks a little weird. “Yeah, that is way too…liquidy.” You will stir it with a spoon and make an inside frowny face at the odd lumpiness. “What about blending it? Though that would lose us a bunch of sauce…” Your co-conspirator will say “Remember The Tale of Wise Old Kevin! He valiantly attempted to blend this mixture many moons ago and found that it made no difference! A spoon is just as noble an instrument as any.” You will poke at the gloopy beige goop and lick your finger. The taste will be good, but the texture will be questionable. You will hope for the best, knowing there must be some secret alchemy that takes place between the moment the noodles and sauce mix and the moment they reach human lips. “Does this count as an unstable colloid?” you will suddenly ask yourself, attempting to recall some semblance of scientific knowledge from your high school past. You will wave away this thought, trying to focus more on the task at hand. Once the pasta is drained and put in the bowl with the sauce, you will attack it carefully with a fork and spoon. While mixing these together, you will have fleeting images of throwing the spaghetti everywhere in an impromptu food fight where you are the only person armed. Swirling with the sensuous noodles, the sauce begins to change. It looks slick, like the peanut butter got tired of being a granular brat and decided to settle down into a tasty coating for the noodles. You smile on the inside; there is hope yet! After the noodles seem sufficiently saucy, you will cover the large bowl with a dish and leave it alone for a while until the potluck you prepared them for begins. Later, you will realize that the texture was initially foreign to you because you were scooping the cold sauce pre-transformation. Once heated, it becomes a slippery coating. Once chilled, the sauce finds a perfect place between liquid and solid, gently glazing the noodles while also clumping up in the appropriate places. You just have to trust the process. Trust Kevin.

-by Aida Manduley

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I refuse to apologize for wearing my yoga pants to the job interview

and for getting all this sauce on my abdomen. Just this morning my body told me it would henceforth refuse to participate in societal beauty standards

and I cannot say I blame it. It is exhausting, this continuous battle to sculpt my fiery mane into some kind of sensical landscape, to contain the unholy mess

that is always escaping my borders. For example, the fitful seam in my stomach— the place where the problems come bubbling out if I press too hard.

I cannot be expected to contain myself. What I can do is keep one eye fixed on the inside, and the other eye on the unrest that simmers at my feet.

I  am the only sustenance. I am all that I need.

-Jenny Williamson

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Meal of One -by Erica Stratton

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Serving Suggestion -by David Dyte

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We encourage you to share the link to this rather than reblogging the entire post (since this is frequently updated and we want to minimize the spread of outdated info!): bit.ly/FergusonAEM. Also, ...

When I saw a recently-published book that highlighted 16 "sex masters" and noticed everyone was White (and no one bringing it up), I realized I needed to do something. See what happened next! This ...

-by Emily Kadish

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