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At first I felt happy and smart and salty and American. Now I feel greasy and full and thirsty and a little sick. All in all, AWESOME. Next, I am going to pick my stepdaughter up from her first day of the fifth grade, so I get to leave early and walk around Brooklyn with a 10 year old.
Main Points:
Bison - Big, Salty.
Jerky -When is too much never enough?
First day of school - Outfit cool? Notice the pierced ears? Teacher eats boogers?
Wino - Greasy, loves to love you baby.
Leave me a message that I will read tomorrow.
Peace and love on the playground.
yrs trly,
Ding Wizzo
I'm eating cookies from the vending machine. Or more accurately, cookie crumbs from the vending machine, because when they drop, they invariably shatter. Why do the vending machine jobbers even bother?
all her friends from fourth grade are in the other class.
I remember how much that can suck. Everytime my mom said, you'll make new friends I was like "yeah, right." -- she was right, though. I just wasn't ready to hear it of course. Love the love letter to the colon.
Speck, there's a restaurant/bar a few blocks from my work that serves black-eyed pea salsa. MMM.
The other night after having some barley pops with the Wino, I joined Vidiot & his gal for a southern meal nearby. We had crispy crawfish, pimento cheese, shrimp & grits with scallops, chorizo & country ham, and beans and collards. Much deliciousness and belching ensued.
I'm eating the big-assed sourdough pretzles from our vending machine. Good news: they're so big-assed they don't break when they fall. Bad news: as soon as you bite into them they fall apart, as if they were angry that you bit into them so have chosen to explode, leaving dust all over your pants and the floor. Angry pretzels. Annnnngreeeeeee. And not very tasty, either, in retrospect. Should have gone with the Famous Amos chocolate chip cookies. That's what I get for being "healthy."
I think I made it because it was cheap. I'm really, really hoping that it wasn't some subconscious New Orleans thing, because that would make me feel sorta guilty.
well, fish have no souls. (private joke, long story, but I'm cracking myself up).
Ribs and barbecue in general are not like other red meat. It's the finest thing you can do with a dead cow or pig. Plus it's unapologetic meat. You're gnawing on bones ala Fred Flintstone. It's a beautiful thing.
I hope she had a good day, Wino, and that your colon forgives you.
Now for my whine. I can whine here, right?
End of third grade. I was friends with a bunch of kids in my class. We were all offered the chance to skip fourth grade and go directly to fifth. My mum didn't think I was ready. My friends' parents did. Mum said I'd make new friends. There were one or two friends during the rest of elementary school, but nothing like my original group. In the middle of fifth grade my family started moving around. Frequently. I ended up being in three different schools just for fifth grade. I've never (re)gained the ability to make friends. There have a been a few here and there, but not like I'd like there to be. Ah well. Anyway, I'm sure all of this contributed to my becoming extremely shy as I wasn't before all of this happened. The 'net has been wonderful for, at least partially, filling that void.
photo by splunge
photo by TheophileEscargot
photo by Kronos_to_Earth
photo by ethylene
