So when I was in high school, I was notorious for making lists called “It could be worse…” that I would give to friends that were having a bad day, week, break up, etc. Once I gave one to my friend Jenn. Among the things that COULD be worse, I listed, “You could be short.” She is short. Whoops.
It was time to move on, to a new type of list. I had clearly passed my prime.
So in college, I was best known for making up “Would you rather…?” questions. I think that having these in my repertoire of “interesting things to pull out in an awkward conversation where no one is answer questions” is a positive of being me, so I’ve decided to bring them back.
For an oldie, but a goody, I will start with:
Would you rather…
a) live on a ceiling fan that was BIG enough for you to have a dorm-style room (desk, bed, computer, mini-fridge) but you could not control when the fan was on or off
OR
b) live in a sub-woofer? (once again big enough for you to have a dorm-style room.)
Please ask questions in the comments, and also don’t forget to answer. I’ll post a “Would you rather…” once a week, and promise to re-post some of the best comments!!
(Also, to kick back: it could be worse, you could live in Florida and have an alligator-infested swimming pool in your backyard that was SO overgrown that not even animal-control would deal with it.)

For those of you out there who maybe don’t know: I hate cilantro. I don’t know why, as I like pretty much everything else on this planet (except I cannot handle spicy food because it makes me hiccup, and I hate sneaky carrots.)
When I was in China, a terrible taste kept passing over my lips. I couldn’t figure out what it was I hated so much, until one day my roommate Laura and I went to a make-your-own bowl restaurant, and she grabbed a fistful of cilantro, adding it to her bowl. I realized that the greenery in her bowl was offensively smelly, and said, “What IS that stuff??” She said, “Ah ha! cilantro. I guess you hate cilantro.” And she was right: I do.
It’s not that I don’t try. Don’t get me wrong. I have tasted it on occasion at restaurants around town with Liz, putting some in my mouth each time just to double check. As of now, I still don’t like it. I sampled it at Cheesecake Factory with Andrew and Jeff: still don’t like it. It’s in salsa, and I eat it anyways, determined not to let it ruin my meal. I recently bought Jeff a jar of dried cilantro for him to add to meals since I never use it in our cooking, and since he LOVES cilantro.
The point is: I am trying to like it. I just can’t get behind the fact that I don’t like some leafy green some people eat every day. Who I am to judge? Aren’t I to like all things produced on this lovely planet of ours? I’ve eat SILK WORMS and SCORPION for God’s sake. I mean, ME, who eats ALL things, I don’t like a green herb? It’s absurd.
Step in Sierra.
SS sent me this article from the New York Times.
It turns out, I’m not alone in my hatred. And that it might be my brain. And not just me. Which is comforting. The article explains there are others out in the world, just like me, haters of cilantro. But apparently, to help my brain develop a new liking to cilantro, I have to deal with it. And eat it. I particularly like the last line: “If you’re looking to work on your cilantro patterns, pesto might be the place to start.”
Cilantro pesto: here I come.
Thoughts on this:
I was invited to go to Jamba Juice to get a smoothie at lunch. Does this count as eating out, if my lunch will be a sandwich from home, and I will get a Jamba smoothie? I need your opinion!!
Please leave a comment.
The reason I ask is because I’ve given up eating out for 2 weeks, along with Jeff. And I am trying to figure out whether this counts against me in that challenge. Please see here.
This is my friend Kate. And her bf Tom. And me.
That’s her 4 years ago.
This is her last summer.
That’s me and my bests. Last summer. I love them.
Anyways, back to Kate. This is the thing: she’s amazing. wonderful. She’ll watch an entire season of any TV show you want in one sitting, ice cream and snacks in hand. She’ll also finish an entire tub of hummus and celery sticks with you on her roof over a pitcher of sangria. She’ll also go to the museum with you, and have something intelligent to say about just about every artist there. And even artists who aren’t. She’ll watch Oscar-nominated films, indie films, and bad chick flicks with you, and enjoy them all. She’ll defend you to the death, cut someone with a shank for you, if she needs to, and makes sure to always say “please” and “thank you” and “Is there more coffee?” She’s pretty much my fave. And she, my friends, is also a ridiculously talented writer. (I know, you’re not surprised. I wasn’t, either.)
She has been published here. Go read it. I’ll wait.
SO good, right? I just love her. Check her blog out, here. She’s totally worth it. I promise. (Like an extra set of crunches, or that extra handful of cranberries on your morning cereal, or that last episode of Full House about the time they lose Comet.)
You can thank me later.