Dept. of Duh: Paula Deen, Fried Chicken, Krispy Kreme Donut Cheeseburgers, and Type II Diabetes

Oh, Paula. What a bummer, that Type 2 diabetes diagnosis. Who could have predicted that? Certainly not me or any other living sentient being whose brain cells have not been deep fried and dunked in a chocolate fondu. You eat so healthfully! But you know what is also a bummer? You keeping this diagnosis a secret for three years before telling your many many fans, who wait with baited breath for every masterful recipe you come up with for Twinkie-infused, caramel-smothered, deep-fried sugar-blasted carbohydrate pie. It's... unseemly.

Now don't get me wrong. I LOVE Paula Deen. I went to her Savannah restaurant last year with my mom and sister and we ate like hawgs. (Not like hogs. Like hawgs.) But when you deliberately keep from the public the fact that you've been diagnosed with a disease that is directly related to the culinary lifestyle you are a purveyor of, that's like eating a hot dog and leaving off the hot fudge: just wrong.

As some of you may know, I'm a type 1 diabetic. I was diagnosed when I was 15 after my pancreas just stone cold walked off the job of producing insulin, which my young body needed in order to not die. My diagnosis, as us Type 1 diabetics like to smugly point out, had nothing to do with my lifestyle, my diet, or my love of sugar-coated everything. Type 1 diabetes is a mysterious beast and if it chooses you, there's nothing you can do to stop it from turning you around, bending you over, and sticking it to you good and proper, over and over, for the rest of your life--or, rather, forcing you to stick yourself (usually sitting upright, though not always), sometimes three or four times a day.

But Type 2 diabetes is an altogether different plate of Double Stuffed Oreo Crumble. Like Type 1 diabetes, Type 2 has a hereditary component to it. If you have either of these two in your family, there is a chance you will be chosen by the Diabetes Fairy to wear the crown and sash. But while Type 1 diabetics are shit out of luck when it comes to prevention, those in danger of becoming Type 2 diabetic can actually intervene and lower the likelihood that they get the disease. The key is to reduce your risks: if you have diabetes in your family and you are overweight and eat like a hoss (Hi, Paula!) then you really need to make some changes, like not eating corn dogs wrapped in chocolate chip almond creme truffle pancakes and washing it all down with a mug full of Boston creme all day, every day, forever. And it would be helpful if, when you are told you have the disease, that you not hide this fact from an audience that depends on you for its fix of crusty-toffee-white-chocolate-cherry-chunk-orgy-of-death by chocolate cake recipes. You might think of, you know, educating your flock about the dangers of eating cholesterol directly out of the bag with a soup ladle.

And now Paula has masterfully transitioned to a brand new gig as a Novo Nordisk spokeslady*. Novo Nordisk is the maker of a diabetes drug that will now be the likeliest diabetes drug to be on the tip of Paula's millions of fans' tongues. That is, when their tongues aren't too busy making their way through an entire Wilmington Island Marsh Mud Cake. Ninety-nine percent of these fans will be receiving their Type 2 diabetes diagnosis in 5... 4... 3... 2....

Well played, Novartis.

*corrected

I'm Worried About What Life Will Be Like When This Jar of Dark Chocolate Dreams Is Gone

As a type 1 diabetic for over twenty years, y'all, my biggest fear—besides having an insulin reaction while hang-gliding in the Amazon and crash-landing into a pterodactyl's nest—is having an insulin reaction ANYWHERE and not having any sugary food-type thing I can stuff into my mouth to get my blood sugar up to a normal level. In this nightmare I have, I will be alone in the dark—in a forest, in a linen closet, in a fallout shelter, in the hatch on Lost—and I will slowly, sweatily expire as I search in vain for a sugary snack. It could happen!

To make it less likely that this awful thing will ever happen, Jimmy and I always make sure to have plenty of treats in our cabinets. These include Nutella, Little Debbie Zebra Cakes, and/or some cake icing. And ice cream. But I came home two nights ago to find a new treat that Jimmy had bought at the fancy grocery store in Williamsburg: Peanut Butter & Co.'s No Stir Natural Dark Chocolate Dreams. This thing I just typed is so much more than a great title for an awesome porno. It's, in fact, a soft, creamy mixture of peanut butter and rich, lush dark chocolate.

I knew this thing was going to be awesome when I first opened the jar and saw that Jimmy had already eaten at least one third of the contents. That's usually a good sign (though not a guarantee--Jimmy likes eggplant, after all). So I spooned out just a tiny little taste of the Dark Chocolate Dreams and damn if this chocolate/peanut butter spread isn't one of the most delicious things I've ever put in my mouth. And I've put a lot of delicious things in my mouth!

But you know how you discover a new food item, buy it, and immediately start worrying about when it will be all gone? That's where I am with this snack now. Even though I know that the next time I have a low-blood-sugar I will be able to Nosedive Right into Dark Chocolate Dreams (also a great title for an awesome porno), there will come a time when the DCD will be gone. Sure, we can buy more, but that means having to leave the house.

What's worse: Zebra Cakes and Strawberry Cheesecake Haagen-Dazs are no longer good enough for me. My insulin reactions demand more. They Demand Dark Chocolate Dreams. (Also a great title for an awesome porno.)

The Bad Diabetic. Today: Cheese Straws and Hershey Bar Pie!

Folks, you know when you're hooked up to a bunch of wires at a sleep clinic on a Friday night and there's only one channel available on your room's teevee and that channel is Oxygen and they're playing Steel Magnolias on a loop all night? Heaven, am I right?!

Anyway, it was during the wedding reception scene when Dolly Parton is talking to Olympia Dukakis about an old woman shakin' it tragically on the dance floor that I had a brilliant idea. The ladies were having this interchange:

Dolly: Well, I haven't left the house without lycra on these thighs since I was 14.
Olympia: You were raised right.

It was at that very moment that I thought: I wanna make cheese straws tomorrow!

Now, I worked at a bakery in north Raleigh when I was 16 called The Coterie that had the best dang cheese straws I've ever put in my mouth--and I've put a LOT of cheese straws in my mouth. I don't know what it was about them and I never was able to get a gander at the recipe we used, but if time machines existed the very first thing I would do would be to troll on down Leadmine Road to Greystone Village and get a cheese straw specimen so I could recreate them in the here and now.

I've tried to make them before and have had a small degree of success. The last batch I made were more like small cheese scones, but they were ok. But this time I really wanted to go for it. Make 'em real cheesy and biscuit-like. I searched for good recipes on the internet and couldn't find anything decent and then I thought, hey, I have Amy Sedaris's cookbook. Surely she'll have something retarded in there.

Sure enough, she has a cheese puff recipe. But it called for swiss cheese, which is lame. I wanted to use sharp cheddar. So I made some adjustments to the recipe and ended up with the most succulent, mouthwatering, and buttery batch of cheese biscuit thingies I've had since the Coterie days. They still weren't up to the Coterie's standards, but they were a close second or fourth. Hey, here they are:



Don't you just wanna eat 'em?

While I was at the store buying the cheese I decided, hell, why not go ahead and make a pie? So I decided to make another one of my famous Hershey Bar Pies, which are so easy to make and which are better than they sound, so shut up with your dismissive judgments. You just mix two giant melted Hershey bars with a thing of Cool Whip in a bowl, add some nuts or something, pour it into a pie crust (make sure you cook the pie crust, dummy), and then put it in the freezer. When the pie has set, top it with some more Cool Whip and then maybe some chopped nuts and/or crumbled Heath Bar or Peanut Butter Cups or some shit. Then have a photo shoot:






Don't forget a close-up with a slice cut out so you can see the delicious gooey insides.



Then check your blood sugar, have your insulin pen ready, and maybe even plan a bike ride for later. Those blood sugar levels aren't gonna come down to acceptable levels by themselves!

One Good Reason for Google to Stay in China: Beijing's World Chocolate Wonderland Theme Park

Communist dictatorship has never looked so delicious! I just wanna take every one of them terracotta warriors, dip 'em in a big ole glass a whole milk, and then eat 'em.

Apparently this theme park, which opens on January 29, also has chocolate versions of the Great Wall, luxury bags, and sports cars, so you can get some exercise, be fashionable, and be a douchebag while enjoying your chocolate. Also on hand is a chocolate toilet you can hurl into to make room for the giant, five-story chocolate Mao Zedong heads.

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Everything this woman is wearing is made of chocolate, except for the nipples.
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When does NYC get one of these? I wanna eat a big chocolate Pauly D.