A cig and a spritz.

The Cheek 017: On my desire to be famous and the vacation that changed my tastebuds.

Sitting in my notes app is a link to apply to be on the first non-celebrity season of The Traitors. I’m going to assume this is a safe space and admit that there’s a part of me that wants to be ✨famous✨. I know this must be childhood trauma speaking, and I should probably consult a therapist, but I can’t imagine going through the rest of my life without more than the average amount of attention.

Once, when I was going viral on TikTok, I was contacted by a casting agency and auditioned to be on the dating coach equivalent of Selling Sunset. I saw the rest of my life flash before my eyes: Skinny Tea partnerships, red carpet events, exes leaking my nudes to deuxmoi. But after not hearing back, and the show probably not getting greenlit, the excitement faded and I kind of forgot about it.

Until recently.

I don’t watch much reality TV or competition shows. But I’m obsessed with The Secret Lives of Mormon Wives and The Traitors. Since I’m not Mormon and don’t live in Utah, The Traitors is my only option.

So, what’s holding me back? My teeth, my arm fat, my level-headedness, and my non-confrontational disposition. I think I’m too fat, too ugly, and too boring to be on TV. On one hand, I’m extroverted and loud and unashamed. But on the other hand, I’m too nice and unemotional to fight with other grown adults on TV.

I’m also the worst liar known to man, so if they cast me as one of the traitors, I’d be discovered immediately and voted off the first night.

Oh, and the bugs!! I don’t know why they insist on bringing a Fear Factor-like quality to this show, but I’m not sure I can handle some of the actual challenges.

But most of all, I don’t know if I can handle the viewers. If someone disagrees with me on TikTok, it sends me into a rage. When I receive a mean comment, I want to quit social media and go live off the grid. How would I ever handle Susie from Arkansas commenting on my outfit choices?

I’ve decided that I will no longer accept food or restaurant recommendations from just anyone.

When I lived in New York, I could trust almost anyone with a restaurant recommendation. But in Florida? Hellll no. Almost every restaurant we go to with raving reviews ends up being meh.

Our most recent food-fail was on our family vacation. In all fairness, we were on a cruise, so the food was bound to be okay at best. I’ve found that avid cruise-goers value quantity over quality, so as long as they can eat themselves into a food coma, they’re happy. I wasn’t expecting Michelin-star restaurants, but the reality was so much worse. I was assured by multiple people (Floridians) that the food was great, so I went in with higher expectations than usual.

In the four short days we were on this ship, I spit food out of my mouth on multiple occasions. I could only describe the pizza as gelatinous, because there was a layer of solidified fat over the entire slice. Then there was the pasta carbonara, which should’ve really been called pasta maionese.

After this experience, I am now fully convinced that Central Florida natives do not have functioning taste buds. Maybe it’s all the sulfur in the water.

So, going forward, I will now only trust food recommendations from people who meet 2 out of the 3 following criteria:

1. You must have spent a significant amount of time in or close to a major city. Orlando doesn’t count. There is good food here if you know where to find it, but people who haven’t lived near a major city do not know good food. If you think a Pub Sub is the pinnacle of sandwiches, then you need a reality check. It’s not your fault that you’ve never been to a hole-in-the-wall Italian deli with real mozzarella and bread so good you don’t need to toast it.

2. Your lineage must be more Ellis Island vibes than Mayflower vibes. You cannot be white-white. If anyone older than your great-grandparents was born in America, just no. There needs to be a thread of the old country running through your family kitchens.

3. You are well-traveled. Cruises and all-inclusive resorts don’t count. You don’t have to be an international jet-setter. This can be domestic trips to major cities.

Honorable mention: You like spice and Indian food. If you are afraid to eat Indian food, then I assume you think mayo is too spicy and you only do it missionary.

Hear me out… drunk cigarette packs. Just four in a pack, rather than twenty.

I think cigarettes are having a comeback in the best way. Before the poop-food cruise, I hadn’t smoked a cigarette in almost two years. I don’t drink as often as I used to, and these days, you can’t bum a cig to save your life. You step outside of a bar and everyone’s sucking on an electronic device. I swear these vapes keep getting larger. I saw a guy recently smoking a vape that was the size of an electric toothbrush. I have vibrators smaller than some of these things. It’s getting out of control.

I swiped two cheeky little cigs off my stepdad after a few Hugo Spritzes (the drinks were the saving grace of the cruise), and all I could think about was how many people were outside smoking cigarettes.

I understand how toxic this sounds, but there’s no way vaping is better for you. If we could all agree to only smoke a few drunk cigs a handful of times a year, I think we’d all be in a better place

If you’re not stalking me yet, what are you even doing? Find me on Instagram @kristina_nasti and Tiktok @kristina_nasti