Rotelle with Baby Octopus Sauce

Prep: 20 minutes Cook: 10 minutes
1 green onion
1 1/2 tomatoes
vegetable oil
11 baby octopi, defrosted, de-ink-sacked, and de-brained
oregano
salt & pepper
Parmesan

1. Dice green onion and tomatoes; set aside.
2. Separate baby octopi from purple mass of tentacles. (For defrosting instructions, see "Defrosting Octopus" below.) To do this, grasp each head and gently pull, shaking out bodies until tentacles hang limply below. Untwine straying legs from hands. Lay octopi out on cutting board; exclaim loudly over bizarre appearance, preferably with a roommate. Observe empty eye sockets. Octopi should resemble a cross between Ursula and Marge Simpson.
3. With dull knife, attempt to separate octopus heads from bodies. If correctly done, the texture and squelching noises should make you squirm in disgust. After setting heads aside, lay out the bodies so that they resemble small, indigo-spotted suns. Separate each tentacle; ignore the webbing between each leg, as this will add flavor. Suction cups should occasionally stick to knife. Place separated tentacles with heads.
4. In skillet, heat oil over medium heat. Add onion, tomatoes and octopus. Octopus tentacles should wriggle as if alive, comparable to lizard tails that have been pulled off. Octopus heads should contract, turning themselves inside out. Onions and tomatoes should sizzle quietly like normal food.
5. Cook until mauve-colored sauce forms and bubbles. By this time, tentacles should have flexed and curled into delicate spirals, studded with shrunken suction cups. Undersides should be rosy-taupe, while tops should be indigo. Octopus heads will be pink and gummy, resembling tiny brains; these should be eaten only on a dare.
6. Dig through mostly empty cupboards until interesting spices are found (I discovered one called "oregano"); sprinkle on mixture. Serve octopus over Rotelle pasta with salt, pepper, and Parmesan to taste.
Makes 2 servings

At midnight

The lamp is shaped like a vase, and much contested for its form-over-function nature. It's giving off a greenish glow that could be eerie, but here is homey. It's on the little fold-up table from a garage sale that Meghan and I found. Next to it is a stack of books, mostly mine, which, from the top down, are: Phonothek Intensiv, The Vintage Book of Contemporary American Poetry, an MLA handbook, French Women Don't Get Fat, Dave Barry's Bad Habits, The Art of Civilized Conversation, and Pippi Langstrumpf. The stack is atop my khaki purse and between Amanda's laptop and my BYUSA folder. The table is in front of our curtainless window; the lamp lights up some of the closed blinds and part of a headband on the sill. The light is creeping over the arm of the loveseat and giving the walls and ceiling a hint of lime, and everyone is asleep but me.

Love

Today I got a text message from my roommate which said, "Have you seen Love?" This seems kind of cryptic, but Courtney Love is the name of our goldfish. There was really only one place she could have gone, which was into a little decorative conch shell in her bowl. When I held up the shell to the light, there was an orange glow in the shape of a tail...
Lisa and I thought about throwing the whole thing away, but it seemed wrong. Love was surely dead, but she deserved the dignity of a burial outside of her death trap. But what if the shell splintered and got stuck in that fishy little body? I couldn't handle that.
After squirming around for a while and making grossed-out faces with Lisa, I chiseled a hole in the shell, carefully, and jiggled it around. Secretly I hoped Love was still alive, but she just fell out with dead, googly eyes. She was twisted into the conch's spiral shape; her body floated parallel with the water's surface, and her tail pointed directly toward the ground.
It was so bizarre and sad and hilarious and gross! My Love is dead.

January

It's 2009! One of my resolutions is to give up tetris. I plan to use that time for this blog. You lucky readers you.
I've tried to write this next part several times now, and everything I write is incredibly dull. I'm back in my apartment and nobody else is home yet; I'm expecting Lisa and Amanda any minute. Guess what? Our fish, which we left here alone for at least two weeks, is still alive! What a good start to a new year. Also, I can't decide which of my classes to keep. Creative Writing is required, so I'll have to take it eventually, but I'm afraid I'll be awful at it. I mean, just read my blog! The other option is public speaking, which I think would be fun, but I don't need those credits for anything. Decisions, decisions...