"Don't Call Me Basic, Bitch" Pumpkin Spice Loaf
"Alright, so what you’re telling me is that you try to limit your meat intake unless you feel confident about its source AND you believe in eating simple and whole foods, while also being someone with an artistic streak? I dunno," he exhaled with exaggeration, clearly exasperated. "It's all just a bit....well..." he wiggled his fingers around in the air, "generic."
"Riiiight" I took a gulp of my giant latte, (why hadn't I ordered a small?! ALWAYS GO SMALL!) willing it to transform into something stronger. Why wasn't there whiskey in here? WHY?!?! Because I had chosen a café. Cafés are safe. Cafes are quick. Cafes score low on the risk of death by dating index. With a café, you don't have to commit to being there too long. There are typically lots of people around, you don't have to deal with wait staff which means there's an escape available due to the pay at the counter grab and go set up. As a side note, however, someone seriously needs to create a café that has those bar shooter type girls walking around, ready to dump something stronger into your drink should the scenario call for it.
I forced the scalding gulp of latte back down my throat, pressing hard against my natural instinct to open the floodgates to send it back up again, spraying it into his face with all the fury and wrath of a medieval dragon, instead channeling that fire into the ujjayi breath I had been practicing at yoga. Take a breath. That’s it, inhale. Count to 3, and exhale. Ok, where were we? "Did, you just call me basic?" I asked, wrinkling my nose with a look of confusion typically reserved for when trying to decipher something obscure said to me from one of my students. He seemed like a somewhat logical individual with some semblance of manners. He couldn't possibly be saying what I think he was saying.
He stared at me from across the table. One eyebrow cocked with a smug glimmer of satisfaction beginning to spread across his face. <>
Anyways, back to the Basic Bitch (who later earns the title of "Back Alley Mouth Plunderer" but we will get to that later).
"Well, seeing as it's all stuff that I am quite passionate about, I would be inclined to say that it's what makes me interesting and dynamic and that's not at all generic." (Ha! Take that you stupid smug with your mug man) Yet there he was, staring back at me blankly in that way people do to indicate that they have no possibility of computing what you have just said and therefore need you to continue to speak in order to flick the switch and illuminate the inner attic of their mind, cobwebs and all.
"Well, maybe you meet a lot of people like me so for you it seems familiar and that makes you feel like it's generic?"I offered. Nothing. Still darkness. Why the hell was I trying to placate this guy? I have no idea. My best guess would be that at this point in my life I was still being driven by an intense need to detect and smooth out possibly awkward scenarios while also protecting the other person's feelings.
He pursed his lips, looking off to the side, nodding to himself slowly. "So, you like to cook then?" He asked. Things seemed like they were turning a corner. "Oh yeah!" I bounced back, energetically," I quite enjoy learning about food, trying new recipes, collecting different books and tackling challenging..." "Oh, ok good, he interrupted, "That's really good to know. It's uh...well, a very important quality for me in a woman." Now it was my turn to return the blank stare. BRAIN NOT COMPUTING INPUT ERROR OCCURRING. " Uhhh, why?!? I blurted out, exasperated, "can you NOT cook?"
Nothing. Staring. Not computing. User error. Input error. System crash and reboot.
Reveling in my new found basic bitchness I took another gulp of my latter (it was not spiced, however)
As I was so clearly being called out as being a "Basic Bitch" what better way to celebrate that label than with something jam-packed full of pumpkin spice? I hope you take this treat and enjoy it curled up on the couch with some leggings and an oversized sweater and a perfectly crafted latte. And please, don't forget to take an aerial shot of and share to Instagram, #blessed.
Want to make this glorious bread? Head on over to the baking archives via the image below:
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