This afternoon we’re going to debut a new feature here at Counterforce. Every week (or at least we hope) we’ll be asking 7 questions of some of the most fascinating characters on the Internet. Or of people who’s patience we’ve completely worn down. Take your pick. For our first victim, we’re talking food with none other than Tess Lynch:
1) How tall are you for real and how tall do you feel?
I’m 5’5,” but I feel about 5’3″. This could come from being sporadically employed, which I hear docks between two and five inches from your self-perceived height; I’ve been rockin’ the double-fives since I was about fourteen, so it was kind of a disappointment that I was never one of those ladies who can cross their legs twice or intimidate other women at bars when they try to push ahead of you to get a drink. At the same time, there are obvious advantages to being medium-short, such as not having to be the person who has to fix light fixtures, excel at basketball, and wash the ceiling.
2) What did you think of the Inaugural congress lunch menu ? What would be on Tess Lynch’s inaugural lunch menu?
I’m shocked (SHOCKED) to see that Legal Seafood’s clam chowder is no longer the inauguration to the Inauguration Lunch. This may be a sacrilege, but I’m also biased because I come from Boston stock and chowder is a religious thing. Then again, maybe the separation of church and state that this administration is heralding means that nothing is sacred, which is undeniably good. My legitimate qualms are:
a) I hate chutney and if I hate something, everyone should.
b) Wild rice stuffing? Are we on a diet?
c) Is the omission of chocolate a racial thing?
That said, I am not a person to scoff at lobster and duck. My inauguration menu would amp things up a notch, so that people sitting down to lunch have to exclaim and use expletives because their minds have just been blown away. I want senators to sit down and say, “Oh fuck! This is an amuse bouche! Oh fuck! Look at that crispiness!!” That’s what I want from a fancy lunch. And you gotta have political food titles shot through with bad puns. Without further ado:
Amuse Bouche: Seafood battle — Roe v. Wade
Corn bisque, crab fritter, caviar on toast
First Course: Yes We-Candied Pecan and Pear Salad
Poached pear salad, arugula, candied pecans, balsamic reduction, goat cheese
Second Course: The Cholesterol Special
Duck confit, frizzled leeks, roasted vegetables, side of health care for all
Third Course: Skin Tone Mash-Up
Aged prime rib, crispy shallots, buttermilk mashed potatoes
Dessert: Don’t Not Use Chocolate Because People Might Think You’re Making A Racial Statement/When There Is No Chocolate Everyone Leaves Feeling Disappointed and As Though You Are Trying To Punish Them
White House-shaped pound cake, dark chocolate fondue, mixed berri
3) Dunkin Donuts: munchkins or full donuts? Coffee coollatta or flavored coffee or plain?
When I have the pleasure of Dunkin my Donuts, I absolutely opt for the chocolate munchkins and a giant iced vanilla latte. This breakfast goes excellently with Vantage cigarettes and a zip on the highway, even though you might have to pull over six times to pee.
4) What was your most pathetic college dining hall meal?
Okay. Brace yourself. This was when I was very hungover and before I quit meal plan because I discovered a funky smell in the waffle batter. I believe my lowest moment was a loaded baked potato, side of bacon, and a waffle sundae. And I am pretty sure I ate this all at once, alternating between sour-cream-cheddar feelings and whispers of soft-serve ice cream. I am also fairly certain that I chased this an hour later with a burger from Johnny Rockets. DON’T LOOK BACK, YOU CAN NEVER LOOK BACK.
5) Bacon. Is it over?
Bacon is best alone. Bacon is like your socially unacceptable friend who only gets along with three of your other friends: it’d be great if you could bring her everywhere (a get-together after work! Your sister’s wedding party!) because you love her, but every time you bring her somewhere she isn’t comfortable she draws a lot of attention to herself in a horrible way. This is why I don’t want bacon in my chocolate, in my muffins, hanging out in some cream cheese frosting, infusing my tea or vodka, or wrapping my New York strip steak. But I still invite bacon over to hang out in my stomach all the time, especially when I have plans with my other stand-out buddy, Coffee.
6) Are people who hate food bad in bed?
People who hate food are bad people. No, not really, but they’re a mystery to me. If you don’t like food, it is probably because of one of the following reasons: you think food will make you fat; you hate to be seen enjoying things because it is, in a way, a loss of control; you have no tongue, or your tongue has been harmed in an accident, or you’re so neurotic that you associate food with digestion, and — okay, you can see where that’s going. The only way you even have a shot at being decent in bed is if you belong to the first category of food-haters (the folks who say “A second on the lips, a lifetime on the hips,” then cluck at their lunchmates and go back to sipping a club soda) AND you happen to be a person who channels that crazy hunger into devouring your bedmate. I have never met one of these people, and I assume they’re like unicorns — if you find one, take a picture, plz. I’ve met people who have claimed to be this way, but they’re also the kind of people who sneak off into the kitchen to eat Doritos and cry about it, so I know they were charlatans. More importantly, though, who wants to hang out with someone who doesn’t get pleasure from easily accessible things? You may as well be chilling with a piece of sandpaper and a bag of hair.
7) When did you start writing on the Internet? And yes, Livejournal counts!
My first real foray into internet writing was This Recording. I published some short stories on 90 Ways, which was a lit website that some of my classmates from Brown started, but I never really wrote about myself. I’m sort of an old-fashioned gal; anything that would have gone in my Livejournal went into a notebook instead. I was also pretty much only into writing fiction until after I graduated from college, probably because when you’re smoking Djarums, wearing a beret and listening to a lot of Red House Painters you’re taking yourself a bit too seriously for the internets.