Yesterday, for like the umpteenth time, I deleted the Instagram app on my phone. What began as a way to share my favorite photographs and latest paintings with friends has morphed into a cesspool of morbidly obese women, rolls of fat and cellulite bursting out of their teeny bikinis, asking if men would still like to "munch my carpet." Really. This vile detritus is permitted, yet when I respond with, "This is gross" or "You should not appear half-naked," I immediately get a note saying my "words might hurt" and I must edit my comment for it to appear.
Another fad that has overtaken Instagram, and Facebook as well, shows videos of amateur cooks preparing food I wouldn't give to my dog, who is dead, and certainly not my living cat. The one I saw today that made me pull the plug showed the following:
Halve 10 hard-boiled eggs. Place in a casserole dish. In a blender, combine cottage cheese, heavy cream, paprika and boiled potatoes until soupy. Pour mixture over the eggs and top with more sliced hard-boiled eggs "to make it look appetizing." Smother the whole mess with shredded mozzarella and bake in the oven.
Why? What is the purpose? Is this used instead of Ipecac to induce vomiting?
Starting now I will post my blog on Facebook and immediately get off it. For fun and distraction there's nowhere left to turn except to meditation, reading, and watching Sleepless in Seattle again. And again. Just to see beautiful Meg Ryan before she went under the knife and Rosie O'Donnell in an adorable scene-stealing performance before she morphed into a rabid, foul-mouthed dyke. Those were the good old days.
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