Rebecca A. Foster

You know those dainty little thrower-uppers, who just sort of tilt their head down, put their hand to their mouth and spit up? It's like they had throw-up classes at finishing school, or were the most well-behaved babies ever and never grew out of it. Yeah, that is so not me . I am a throw-up drama queen, all moans and groans and heavy breathing. It's like the end of the world, or my liver, when I puke. I was reminded of that this week when I woke up Thursday morning at 4:30 AM and rushed to the bathroom before emptying my stomach several times over, to be repeated with water, Sprite and dry heaves for the next few days. Stomach flu is the worst! But, as always, it reminded me of something funny. (I consider my ability to find the humor and funny aspects of life to be one of my more humane qualities. You're welcome, humanity.) Picture it: China, spring time, T.'s apartment, 1 AM. I'm slowly turning green and it's apparent I'm going to start tossing my cook...

This weekend I was making pebre  and my serrano peppers were not getting the job done, so I pulled out a couple of habaneros. I asked my mom,"Do you think these will be hot enough in the pebre?" "Well, how hot are they?" Hmmm. I sliced one open and licked the pulp. Just in case you didn't know, licking the inside of a habanero is a really dumb way to determine how hot it is. THE BURNING IT GOES ON AND ON HOLY HELL WHAT WAS I THINKING. I couldn't feel my lips or tongue for the next several hours, but on the bright side, 'licking the habanero' is now my new favorite euphemism for doing something stupid you probably knew better not to do. Example: "Yeah. I went out with that guy even though I knew he was bad news. I totally licked the habanero on that one." Live and learn (the hard way).

If you have ever met someone for the first time and been asked, "What are you?", I think we could be friends. It's a perfectly logical question, really. What I hear: "You look different than what I expect and I need to have a category to place you in, so I want to know: what are you?" I usually explain that my father is (was) American, my mother is Chilean, and yes I look like my American father but with the coloring of my Chilean mother, no I don't speak Spanish as my first language, yes I can speak some Spanish but it is Chilean Spanish, yes I prefer wearing dresses not pants, no I don't go anywhere without lipstick on, yes I dress a little formally, no I'm not Catholic, yes I have been to Chile and can make manjar and pebre and empanadas, no I am not expected to date or marry a Chilean. These are some of the common questions I am asked and I'm not offended by them.(Okay, it is a little embarrassing when I meet someone and they begin spea...

All of the Anthony Weiner press coverage makes me feel somewhat validated for having done this . I stand by it. I don't as a general rule comment on current event news stories here, because I can't imagine anyone gives a rat's ass what I think about the news. However, the subsequent debate about whether or not sexting is cheating reminded me of the short, personal checklist I've amassed of potential red flags that the guy asking you out/hitting on you isn't as uninvolved as he claims to be*: 1. Only wants to see you during non-prime time hours, i.e. lunch but never dinner. 2. Gives you an email address and/or phone number just for you (you usually find this out when he calls/emails you from the other by accident). 3. Only wants to talk to you from work. 4. He has a cat and lives alone (so he says). (I have a bias that young, single men who want a four-legged pet get dogs, not cats. Also he turned out to be married so I was right.) 5. Only wants to see you f...

The chopsticks I brought home from China are all stainless steel or melamine (melamine: okay for chopsticks! Not okay for milk!), but I have a few sets of wooden ones I brought home from Thailand several years ago. I put all the chopsticks in my dishwasher to sterilize them but most ended up in the bottom near the drain, and one of the wooden ones was snapped in half. Oops. Preface: I have this big, passion-from-across-the-room crush on our apt.'s head maintenance guy, V.  He's Chilean, looks like a Spanish soccer player and has gorgeous hazel/green eyes. I met him the day I moved in and I've only run into him twice since them but both times he remembered me and we chatted and he's charming and did I mention, super hot? This guy + light eyes = V.  Thus far, I have avoided purposefully breaking things in my apartment so he has to come fix them. I know, right? I'm so adult and stuff. But ever since the chopstick incident, my dishwasher doesn't drain properly...

If I could install a magic mirror in my house? This is what I would see in that mirror. Her beauty and fashion style in this picture is my idea of perfection: I know it's really important to love and accept yourself, everyone is beautiful in their own way, blah blah blah, but I would so totally buy that mirror.