A quinoa salad and a giveaway! Don’t worry. It’s not quinoa.

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I’m not really “ashamed” to admit a lot of things. Like, I’m not ashamed to admit that I have Smashmouth’s Astro Lounge in my car. Or that I am currently sitting in my kitchen by myself, bouncing around, listening to this on repeat. Or that I’ve been rabidly obsessed with the Jodi Arias trial, and have texted my best friend about it practically every single day for the past four months. Or that I am so terrible (or awesome; the jury’s still out) at being an adult that I do things like eat hot cheese for dinner. I unabashedly communicate with my dog in my puppy voice (“come heeeere my little schnuggly wiggle butt,” etc.) in front of friends, acquaintances and strangers alike.

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Because seriously, look at him. He’s the cutest widdle bug.

People who try to embarrass me in public (especially my boyfriend, who likes to just randomly yell jibberish in public places) will either find me totally unfazed or willing to up the ante somehow.

I, however, am mildly ashamed to admit that I’ve eaten ramen for lunch every day this week. Out of a mug. In my defense, I’ve been fighting off what appears to be Captain Trips for the better part of a week, and therefore the wherewithal to prepare food by going further than sticking a mug in the microwave for a few minutes has eluded me. But tomorrow, I’ll be ending the work week with a bang, and bringing some tasty leftovers to work.

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Quinoa fried rice, and tri-state area pride.

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Growing up a stone’s throw away from the greatest city on earth (and hailing from the home state of aforementioned superlative crooner, thankyouverymuchnowgetoutoftheleftlane), I recognize that I’m lucky to have immediate access to a wide array of (well-done) cuisines – with the exception of barbecue, maybe. There’s an incredible Chinese takeout place across the street, two amazing pizzerias down the block, and quite possibly the best sushi (and half price, most days) I’ve ever eaten less than 10 minutes away. And I live in a teeny little suburb! Killer burritos, to-die-for-tapas, cracker-thin pizza, melt-in-your-mouth sushi; you name it, it’s possible for me to have that for dinner tonight and be one hundred percent satisfied. Now, I don’t mean to sound cocky; I recognize that (with the exception of maybe pizza), restaurants/takeout here may not be the absolute, hands-down, best-in-the-nation. For example, I’m sure the Southwest has better burritos – but ours are nothing to sneeze at.

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