Food for thought, mostly poison

Voodoo Cake

It is said that when a cake is cut, sugarcane fields can be heard crying in the warm Barbados breeze.

* * *

Define “Testicle”

More than a quiz, but a little less than a test.

* * *

After Canada conquered the US in the early 21st century, the Maple Doctrine was adopted. This document overwrote the American Constitution and many of the US's unwritten rules.

Perhaps the most memorable revision was Article 7, clause 32; the 5-second rule does not apply to shag carpeting.

* * *

"I can't believe that boat is named Wet Dream," I said to Nanny.

She turned to Poppa to clarify.

"It's the name of the boat in Margaret's yard," she said to him in a hushed tone.

"Did Margaret name it?" I asked.

"Probably. She's a drunk," she said matter-of-factly.

* * *

Georgina on Hitler:

"Anyone who uses their oven for anything other than storage is a complete wanker."

* * *

A Postcard from Aunt Mary:

Dear David,

         Since you are our family's Hemingway, I thought it most appropriate to send you this postcard from Key West where Hemingway lived and did a lot of his writing. I visited his home today and thought of you - the next Ernest Hemingway!

          I love you <3 <3 <3

          Aunt Mary

PS - Hemingway had four wives and sixty-two cats!

* * *

Getting Laid at the MET

I tried that once. It didn't really work out.

* * *

Mary Meets God

               Human life, and all life for that matter, concluded in a single rainy afternoon at the Porchlight Grill in Midland Park, New Jersey.  Mary was sitting at the bar on her break after waiting tables for six hours.  She was about to ravage a nice juicy hamburger, when from the corner of her eye she spotted something moving on the floor.  She hopped off her bar-stool and put her glasses on.

               Before her, on the tiled floor, was a large cockroach.  As not to cause a stir, she crushed the enormous bug under her black tennis shoe.

               And so, the very fabric of the Universe unraveled.

♫ Pointy boots for your birthday ♫

Typical visits with my father consist mostly of youtube videos, him singing small songs that he just made up, and bickering about one conspiracy or another.

"Did you hear that Michelle Obama is a man?" he will inevitably say. I will roll my eyes, he will show me the youtube video, and then I will at least have doubts about Michelle Obama's gender.

My friend from England was visiting me and he came over Dad's for dinner one night. Before the dinner, I warned him that my father would most likely talk to him about Queen Elizabeth drinking babies' blood in the basement of Buckingham Palace. That is precisely what happened.

The earth is flat. And hollow. The planet is ruled by an elite class of lizard people. Hilary Clinton is a clone. Pretty standard fare at Charlie's house.

This visit, we watched some fail videos with Dane and Bobbi Jo. After they left to go have dinner, he put on this video:

You should watch the whole thing, or at least until they start dancing. Somewhere during this nine minute exploration of Mexican pointy boots, it begins...

"What size you take?" he asks while peering into his phone.
"What are you doing?" I ask, fully knowing that he is online shopping for Mexican pointy boots.

Then the song begins:

♫ Pointy boots for your birthday, pointy boots ♫
[key change]
♫ Pointy boots for your birthday, pointy boots ♫

And so on.

Then he shows me this picture:

Fig. 1.1 Cobra head pointy boots

♫ Cobra head pointy boots for your birthday ♫

"Oh, there's a sale on now!" he says, exuberantly.

Fig. 1.2 Mexican Pointy Boots, chillin

"Come on, I'll buy a pair for Nelson, too." As if offering to buy a pair of Mexican pointy boots for my boyfriend will somehow convince me to accept a pair for myself.

♫ Fabuloso pointy boots for your birthday, pointy boots ♫

As we watch them do a strange pointy boot shuffle dance, he gives me the hard sell.

"Look at them dance. Takes a lot of skill. I want to get you a pair of pointy boots because I think you'd really excel at this."

Fig 1.3 Ultimate Challenge: Mexican Pointy Boot Cycling

♫ Pointy boots for your birthday, pointy boots

Cobra head pointy boots for your birthday, pointy boots

Fabuloso pointy boots for your birthday, pointy boots ♫

My birthday is only a few months away, plenty of time to have some custom Mexican pointy boots ordered and shipped. You may be thinking, he won't actually order them. You'd be wrong.

Mostly Drivel

Do you ever wake up and wish life was more like a Zoobilee Zoo rerun? I do sometimes. Who wouldn't want Ben Vereen dressed as a leopard narrating their life?

I think about stuff like that all the time. My mind is a virtual wasteland of nostalgia and mottled memories.

* * *

I've been reading through some of my old composition notebooks to see if there is anything worth while. In the middle of a short Resident Evil fanfic, I wrote this: "Sometimes I catch myself pretending I'm a real teenager."

* * *

Did you know:
As a child, I had a one-legged lesbian neighbor that moved to Budapest? True story.

 * * *

Me: Mom?

Mom: [from the living room] What?!

Me: The microwave popcorn didn't work.

Mom: Good! We'll mail it to Orville Redenbacher so he can shove it up his ass!

* * *

Uptown Jackie Red + Midtown Jackie Green = Downtown Jackie Brown

* * *

Can you, in good taste, use a white lighter after Labor Day?

* * *

Put a little lift in your day. Try new caffeinated Kotex.

* * *

Me: Amy, can you pass the salt?

Amy: Uh, Pokémon, what's the magic word?

Me: [pause] Vagina?

Amy: [passes me the salt]

* * *

"There are no more oil-based concealers to conquer." - Alexander the Great

* * *

"In works of labor or of skill,
I would be busy too;
For Satan finds some mischief still
For idle hands to do."
-from "Divine Songs in Easy Language for the Use of Children", Issac Watts

"Fluff and Chow"

For the dozen or so of you reading this blog, my apologies for no entries the past few days; I was busy and didn't much feel like it. I also knew I had a family engagement to celebrate my sister-in-law's birthday coming up, so I figured I would hold off as that was sure to yield some gems.

For one reason or another, they have an unhealthy fixation with Chinese buffets, so we tried one we hadn't been to before. The previous buffet was visibly higher quality, but my brother was leery to return there due to a confrontation between my aunt and a man she felt was hogging all the raw oysters.

The attendees were as follows:

Mom: Road-rage legend. No filter.
Dad: Conspiracy theorist. Chinese chicken-wing aficionado.
Gail: Dads's girlfriend. Talented artist. Dog enthusiast.
Dane:  Middle brother. Wild Card.
Bobbi Jo: AKA Slubbybubbercans. Sister-in-Law. Birthday girl.
Dylan: Baby brother. Favorite past time - shooting mom in the face with nerf darts.
Justine: Dylan's girlfriend. Strong silent type. Ate pizza at a Chinese buffet.
Me: Epicurean in a lilac polo shirt.

We wasted no time taking our coats off and bee-lining for the expansive selection of food. I was fairly put off by a majority of the offerings at the Flaming Grill & Supreme Buffet ("The Flaming Asshole Grill" - Mom) on Route 23. There were a number of unidentifiable and/or unappetizing dishes, most notably a whole grey-skinned fish that had taken on a glossy gelatinous sheen. Oh, and calamari which my mother looked at and said "That's pig rectum" matter-of-factly.

After fixing a conservative plate of green beans, fried shrimp, and chicken variations, I sat down with my family. The green beans were delicious. The chicken was rubbery, if it was in fact chicken.

* * *

"I thought this was shrimp!" my mother said, referring to an amorphous fried nugget.
"It's sweet and sour chicken, mommy," I said.
"But I didn't get any sauce!"

* * *

I quit smoking cigarettes about a month ago:

Mom: I'm going out for a cigarette, you're coming with me.
Me: No I'm not. I quit and it's cold outside.
Mom: David! Come with me. What if I get robbed or raped?
Me: [Shrug]
Mom: It's ok - I wore my rape pants.

* * *

[Upon her return]
Me: How was the raping?

* * *

After discussing the pros and cons of DNA ancestry tests (particularly the possibility of getting cloned), government spooks, and chem-trails, Dane looked around to the now vacant area of the restaurant we occupied and said, "We cleared that out pretty fast."

Gail told us about a tutorial she'd seen using old Tic Tac containers for spice storage when camping. Dane insisted that you could just bring your spices with you rather than go to all the trouble of filling Tic Tac containers with spices that you probably wouldn't need anyway since you were camping. Gail clarified that they would be glamping, which I understand is a portmanteau of glamor and camping, two words that should never be used together or combined to form a new word.

Fig. 1.1 Tic Tac Spice Storage

While it's a cute idea, I have a number of issues:

1. Why would you need nutmeg or garam masala on a camping trip, glamorous or otherwise?
2. Other than salt and pepper, please name one other spice of any use for food you'd be preparing on a camping trip.
3. Why would you take the time to do this when this exists:

Fig 1.2 "Multi Spice" Jar

According to my sources, she already has a number of these Tic Tac containers saved and ready to go. I predict that despite our well-meant criticisms of this project, she will continue unhindered.

Back to the buffet.

Dylan sustained a small oral injury from the sharp edge of a fried wonton. I mocked him all evening like a good big brother.

Upon returning to Bobbi Jo's (Slubbybubbercans if you're nasty) and Dane's place, my mother had some gifts for us. Lego mini-figures and shell magnets for all. Then I was shown what she made Bobbi Jo for her birthday:

This is a hot-glue project made from driftwood, sharks teeth, and seashells. It is also a magnet. After requesting one for myself, I suggested she sell these on the side of the road during the Summer. Dane suggested that it was actually a prehistoric bread knife.

We also each received a small ziplock of fresh basil, two large cans of crushed tomatoes, and a large bag of rice, pictured below:

Fluff and chow

Apparently, concerned the world was going to end via North Korea, she purchased a 20lb bag of rice; like ya do. She then sat on her bed and divided the bag up between her three children and in permanent marker wrote the instructions for how to prepare the rice. She insisted that it was "the good stuff", to which I countered "Nothing good comes in a twenty pound bag." I also let her know that I would never be eating this rice as I now considered it a family heirloom.

"Fluff and chow. Love, Mommy"

FIN