I told you so

For all of you who thought that my post from two weeks ago regarding cake, sex and books was just me being clever, I have some solid examples from this week to back up my theory as to how those three things not only make me happy on an almost daily basis, but also how they are the very basis of my existence. Not to be melodramatic or anything.

On the topic of cake, two days ago actor boy and I went for ice cream after having a wonderful salmon/ artichoke/ asparagus/ lemon pile of pasta deliciousness he whipped up (as he is so good at doing) at the Marble Slab Creamery. There I had a wonderful concoction of birthday cake ice cream, apple pie and chocolate chips, which does in fact fall under the category of cake, due to the birthday cake flavor and apple pie. What also made the night's experience lovely was the fact that the girl who served us, upon my telling her I had a nut allergy, swiftly washed her hands, ice cream scoop and didn't put my ice cream on the actual slab, and while I know this is probably a result of a training manual, it was so wonderful to see after so many occasions of me saying "I have a nut allergy" and the waitress/ servers not really seeming to care in the least. I even called the Marble Slab the next day to thank the manager for training her staff well. On the topic of the nut allergy (but not in the category of things that make me happy), after having the reaction this week from kissing actor boy, I visited my friendly local Safeway pharmacist, who informed me that allergies such as these often get worse with each reaction because the muscles in your throat contract and while thus far this has just resulted in me getting itchy, rashy and uncomfortable, it could possibly one day get to the point that I will stop breathing, and to that end I should get an epi pen from my doctor so that my boyfriend can have an Uma experience and have to plunge it into my chest so I can then tell a bad tomato joke. I find this quite distressing because it now seems like each potential allergic reaction could actually be bringing me closer to my doom, and on top of that I will really have to become that annoying girl who reads all food labels thoroughly and asks all her waiters to make sure nothing nutty touched her food. And for the record, yes, having ice cream was a bad idea for The IBS, but as actor boy pointed out, people get drunk all the time knowing that they will have a hangover, and this is sort of the same thing - I felt vile the next day but while eating my cakey creamy creation and watching When Harry Met Sally, I was so happy I may have even meowed.

But back to the things that make me happy. I had a great book experience at work this week (and these are so rare that I feel I can list them as cool and unique experiences). One day after school I was chatting with two middle school girls, who are spastically but refreshingly full of 13 year old energy, and another girl of the emo "just leave me alone so I can cut myself" variety variety came into get some creepy horror novels. I was busy telling her about all of my favorite "scare the shit out of you or at the very least give you nightmares about dying for at least 2 months" books but the two spastic girls kept interrupting with their own opinions on each book, most of which they hadn't read, and after a while we actually moved from trashy literature to some good stuff - Meg Rosoff, Mark Haddon, Pete Hautman, and when they left I felt like I had really experienced a librarian Kodak moment. Granted they may have hidden the books behind the plant on the way out, but I'm ok with that.

And that leaves us with sex. Things have been great with actor boy lately (apart from the unfortunate peppermint lube incident, which taught us that "tingling" actually means "burning"), and the last couple days have been especially wonderful. At about 5 pm today he pointed out that of the last 20 or so hours we had spent together, about 5 or 6 had been spent having sex, which by all accounts is well above the national average. And let me tell you, they were some good five or sex, I mean six, hours, and that's all I have to say about that.

Zee nuts

Apparently my nut allergy is getting worse. Over the last 10 or 15 years, I have had some isolated and uncomfortable allergic reactions to various types of nuts (but not peanuts, because altogether now, "peanuts are a legume, not a nut!"), the most memorable ones including:

• Eating a hazelnut chocolate the summer of 1991 (my brother will surely correct me on that date) the afternoon of the Genesis concert and fearing that I would not be able to go, but luckily I pulled through and made it to my fabulous first concert experience.

• Having an entire bowl of pasta in Cinque Terre, Italy in 1998 before I realized there were, in fact, something called pine nuts (which I had previously never heard of) in pesto and I was quite severely allergic to them.

• Tasting a turkish delight (that just so happened to have pistachio nuts in it) at lunch the first day at my summer readalong job in Raincouver in 2004, turning red and blotchy all over, and having to go home from work early.

And any number of other occasions, sometimes while travelling and sometimes in the comfort of my own country, where I have tasted ice creams, cakes or other foods that are said to not have nuts but upon getting very itchy I know that they really do, by which point in time it is too late and there isn't a damn thing I can do about it.

Now while I have not yet gone into anaphylactic shock or stopped breathing from any of my allergic reactions and have also been fairly lucky in that my allergy does not extend to things with "traces of nuts", nor will I die from the whiff or touch of a nut, my reactions seem to be getting worse. And today there is a new step in the sad story of my nutty affliction: apparently I cannot kiss people who have consumed nuts. My actor boy picked me up from work today, we had a brief kiss, and he proceeded to tell me about an exiting new opportunity wherein he will be directing a one act play penned by his talented and socially inept roommate (who also happens to have frequent loud sex with his girlfriend), and as he was telling me all the details I was getting itchier and itchier.

"Can I ask you a random question? Did you happen to eat nuts today"?

"Oh fuck! I had some trail mix this morning that had pistachios in it!".

Now I really do not blame him for this as I had previously told him it probably didn't matter if he ate nuts, as long as it had been a while ago and he had chewed gum, drank water, etc, but as it happens this is not the case, so here I am experiencing an allergic reaction from a nut I didn't even eat. His soft kiss also managed to turn my lips and chin blotchy red until I washed my face thoroughly, and I will no doubt feel gross for a couple hours, which is standard for my allergic reactions.

So just in case I'm not a bad enough dinner guest what with The IBS, all of you now have my nut allergy to worry about, should you ever make the mistake of inviting me over for dinner.