No One Said Love Was Easy

The art of the silent film is rather underappreciated since my generation has had control of Hollywood. I don’t see many silent film suggestions on my Netflix “because you watched Unbreakable Kimmy Schmidt” list of shows. I dread the day when Netflix creates a section of forbidden shows called the “because you watched Unbreakable Kimmy Schmidt Season 1 six times and you need to move on, Katie” section.

Of course, I would never select a silent film to watch if I had the choice between that and a talkie. I guess I’m in the right generation. Enjoy this silent film! (I apologize in advance for the obvious amateur status of this film – I’m still taking Adobe virtual tours…)

Just Tryin’ to Help

If I had a nickel for every time someone asked me to help them come up with a title for a food blog, I would thus far have one nickel because my sister-in-law just asked me. I would also need alternative sources of income because you can’t buy anything for a nickel these days. I don’t know why Jenni asked me for help considering she’s much punnier than I am, but I’m glad she did because let me tell ya, it was an enjoyable brainstorming session.

So, in the time I could’ve spent studying for something, here are some thrilling/dreadful (you decide) titles I’ve crafted for your viewing pleasure:

(Feel free to use any of them if you’re an aspiring food blogger. But I would like to be financially compensated in the form of baked goods. And money.) 


If you want to incorporate the word “blog” into your title:

On the Chopping Blog

Sugar Snap Please Read My Blog

If You Can’t Handle My Blog, Get Out of the Kitchen

Eat Pray Blog

Song titles:

Brownie Eyed Girl

Thyme after Thyme (my personal fave, which I stole from Jenni)

Love Me Like You Dough

All About That Baste

I Knead You to Knead Me (it’s just a lyric, but it’ll do)

Live Like You Were Fryin’

Uptown Faux Fur Funk (this one could be for a fashion blog. I realize it’s unrelated, but it’s stuck in my head… I guess I could have said Uptown Food Funk or something. Oh well.)

Pop Culture References:

Beauty & the Feast

Grillmore Girl

Glazed & Confused

Whisky Business

Spice Girl (you may run into copyright issues with this one, but I – and if you don’t agree, I wouldn’t read your blog anyway – would take every opportunity to share my story of being sued by the Spice Girls)

Legally Blend

Justin TimberBake With Me

Bakestreet Boys

Bakeyoncé (you may notice I’ve resorted to just adding “bake” to everything and I apologize for that)

Gossip Grill

Suggestively Offensive:

Lovin’ From the Oven (followed by a winky face)

I Like Big Butternut Squash & I Cannot Lie

You Can Add Wine to Anything Even Breakfast

Honky Tonk Badonka-diced Veggies

Fifty Shades of Gravy

What the Fork

If your first name is Katie and your last name is Moore (there’s a surprising number of us) and you want to incorporate that into your title:

Add Moore to Your Meals (cute but also a slightly disturbing double-entendre)

Moorsels of Knowledge

Cookin’ With Katie

Eat Moore Cake

Kt’s Kitchen (this one would be boring unless you abbreviate “Katie.” You know what, no. It’s still boring)

Caramelize It (if your name is Cara)

Tragically do not belong to any particular category:

Dine & Dash of Salt

Orange You Glad My Blog is About More Than Just Oranges?

Read It Then Eat It

Wheat Are You Lookin’ At?

It Was Nice to Meat You

I’m Not Even Yokin’

Say Cheeeeese 

I’m sorry that last one was kind of cheesy.. Honestly, writing this blog has just made me hungry. I don’t think I could be a food blogger because I would just stop mid-sentence and go eat. Maybe I should be a life coach-esque blogger of inspirational pep talks and then I might stop mid-sentence to discover something or begin a cool new hobby. But alas, being productive makes me hungry too so I’ll just stick to this.


Get it? You probably don’t understand why my title is hilarious. I’ll explain: I’m at the tire repair place getting a nail out of my tire. And that is why I am tired. Nailed it (← which is what got me here).

I got there at 3:30 and at 4:45, a young man came into the waiting room to alert me that, “we’re pretty swamped, but I promise we’ll get to your car soon.” What he meant was, “we realize you got here over an hour ago, but we knew ahead of time that you had 3 midterms and 4 papers due this week and we have a personal vendetta against you for an unknown reason, but I promise we’ll get to your car soon.” Well at least he promised.

I really should’ve been more prepared for this – I did not bring my computer. But at least I had headphones in my purse so I could listen to Fiddler on the Roof in preparation for the next karaoke night. Sadly, all I had in my bag was a spiral notebook and a pen with no lid. To the naked, ill-informed eye, this seems perfect for someone who claims to enjoy writing, but alas, it’s actually the worst. Because here’s the thing: I hate writing. I mean I love the concept, but I hate the process of literally putting pen to paper. Typing I can do; in fact, I enjoy typing. The sound of my fingers dancing across the keyboard is so collegiate it’s all just very good.

But I’d rather spend the night in this tire repair waiting room than write with my hands for a long period of time. First of all, I don’t know if I’m a righty or a lefty. I switched hands after a basketball injury back in the day, which would be cooler if I weren’t now equally bad with both hands (I like to classify myself as ambidex-atrocious). I believe my brain is confused now too and it’s ultimately just resulted in a massive identify crisis.

I can’t read either hand’s work and my writing has even been suggested to resemble that of a serial killer’s (thanks Collin. Why not just a doctor..?). There’s really not much I can do about it. I mean I could revert back to kindergarten and practice my penmanship. But, if I did that, I would begin with a nap, followed by outdoor time and then reward my outdoor efforts with a snack. That’s the kindergarten I choose to remember.

This post has gone in a different direction than I initially intended, and I bet you can guess the reason: I couldn’t read my first, hand-written draft. And in case anyone was concerned, I drove away with a shiny new tire at 6:30 with cramps in both hands.