Just as a distraction to the current sense of impending doom due to Kinja, I thought I'd make a confession.
I had a good friend here last week from the States. We live in a very rural area of France, and every so often vans will pull up offering all manner of produce or services. Chair caning, window painting, fresh oysters, what-have-you. I usually say no thanks, but a good friend was here for the first time, and was kind of interested to see what was in the van. (Yeah, I know, no good can ever come of wanting to see what's in the white van. I know.)
So, it was potatoes. Special French potatoes. Like seaside grown, algae-fertilized gourmet potatoes. Two different kinds. White and dark purple/red. And also: Massive beautiful garlic strands.
Okay. We eat our fair share of fresh potatoes, and we are always running out of garlic, and my friend was all excited about buying directly from these admittedly very authentic-looking French farmer types who were sooooo friendly and rustic and looked like they were out of a 1940s movie. So I said, okay, I'll take a crate of your potatoes, half and half - 1/2 white, 1/2 red. And a strand of those fat beautiful garlic clusters.
So they prepare a box - a fairly large wooden crate, and it's, like 30 lbs. of taters. And the garlic thing. And they give me a handwritten bill, and it's like SIXTY DOLLARS!!!
And I think to myself, I have been had. I buy the fucking solid gold potatoes because I just can't say, in front of my friend who is oooh-ing and aaahing over the delicious earthy scent of these stupid tubers, I can't say: "Put them back in the van, that's more than I've paid for all the potatoes I've ever eaten in my entire life, combined!"
And now I have 30 lbs of potatoes hidden out in the garage, in the dark, because god forbid they should see the light and start sprouting, when they cost a small fortune to buy. And my friend who was here only ate, like, one potato before leaving.
And this, children, is why you never agree to look at what's inside the white van - unless you are a much stronger person than I am. I am just a Potato Head and I will be quietly eating anything you can make from potatoes for the next few months.
Thanks for letting me get that off my chest. I can't tell anyone where I live because they will all laugh at me for being such a sucker, and they will call me tête de patate or something equally offensive/true.
EDIT: I must say, airing out this financial indiscretion actually makes me feel relieved. Not any less stupid, just relieved.