I went to the airport, and it turns out you have to have a ticket to be groped! Pay for play unfair! What if I just want to be sure I am not a threat to myself in my own home or car?Â Who will think of the children? And grope them.
If you’re going to be gadding about in a metal bird of death this holiday season, or if you’re going anywhere near North Korea, you’d be wise to study Kitty Winn’s victim tribute photo tips. To add a touch of modernity to Kitty’s sage advice, I suggest uploading a few flattering shots at print resolution and making them into a Facebook album called “OK to use in the event of my exotic death.” Some people just can’t see the forest for the trees.
Now go forth and conquer! My flan is done. Let it be known.
An unassuming but delicious salad from my childhood:
2 packs pistachio pudding mix
1 20 oz can crushed pineapple
1 tub of thawed Cool Whip
tiny marshmallows and chopped walnuts to taste
Gobble accordingly, my friends. My fellow Americans, I know how to make the salad. I know where to get the marshmallows.
I am so bringing this to Thanksgiving this year. People won’t know what hit them. They’ll wish they had healthcare that allowed mandatory screenings for AWESOME.
This just in: it’s stinking November! Didn’t I just warn you about this? Faaaaack. It’s too early to go to the Caribbean.
Dismember? Nofunever? I will think of the perfect Novemberism right after I post, I’m sure. Nonmember. That’s me. The Democratic Party called the other to thank me for my generous donation a few years ago. I said yes I am so nice like that, the things I do for those children, but what good did it do? And the poor lady read a script about all the ways they screwed up and all the things they are going to do differently next time around, and would I consider doubling my donation? I said I had left the party. I don’t know if this is true, but I am not about to part with my no money yet. But please don’t start out by telling me how you suck when you want to ask me for money.
Me? Oh, I am fine, thanks for asking! More about me: Last night I got hella free candy because I had the foresight to have offspring. That made it all worthwhile, let me tellyoo. Abdominal surgery, sleepless nights, and the occasional poop on the floor? Certainly a bargain price of a snack-size Kit-Kat! Oh, give me a break, give me a break! Break me off a piece of that.
Allrighty, what’s good about November? How psyched are you for November? Guy Fawkes day!!!!!! That is in November. Thanksgiving is in November, and that’s generally fun if you put aside historical context and all. I make a mean quinoa pilaf. Veteran’s Day, well, that could be a downer. Depends on who you ask. Halloween candy on sale? Don’t need that and would not want to catch obesity from looking at it funny either. Christmas decorations will slowly start to become more contextually appropriate. I think we should just neatly excise October and November from the calendar. Halloween can be moved to September, right after my 25th birthday. The Vomitola calendar is awesome. St. Croix’s Day is a real day! So is “everyone’s attractive” day! Except that is not really true. We just pretend and feel better.
I’m glad you asked. A ybab and I went through the drive-thru at the drugstore to get drugs. Then we went to the deli to buy a lot lot of booze. The deli was mostly out of booze! They are going to convert to a cafe soon. I forgot to RESERVE PIE NOW, and I was all prepared to grub one of their extra pies, but they didn’t have any pie at all. That’s OK, I can’t eat it anyway.
But I can drink a pie! Here is the annual Vomitola.com Free Recipe Giveaway.
1 part Harpoon Winter Warmer
1 part Cider Jack or other cider. I actually prefer Magner’s.
Then I saw a person to whom I was recently introduced. I see this person everywhere now, yet we have no deeper relationship than the first meeting. Hi, hi! Helllooo.
How much beer should I buy for tomorrow? A lot or a lot lot?
Today I went to the grocery store to wrestle for the last can of cranberry sauce. I had to hurt a bitch. A ybab (I am sick of all those ybab ads) bit a bitch. OK, she bit me. She bit her dog? I didn’t even buy cranberry sauce; it was just fun to play America. No one was in the bulk aisle buying organic quinoa by the pail but me. Why is that? Boy are my relations gonna love a pilaf.
The bagger at the checkout told a ybab that she is too small to be five months old. Well, how do you like that? Demoted by the help! There is no need for science when we have the great natural resource of grocery store advice just waiting to be tapped. Imagine our confusion and need for guidance as a nation, waking up in a world where Michael Richards has just Mel Gibson’ed himself. Down is up, up is down, and there is a tarantula in my bananas.
Oh, and peep this: the plumber came and put the tasteful little “hot” piece of red plastic and brushed metal in the bathroom faucet. Now I know that tap is Hot, as opposed to just knowing it was Not Cold. This divot has only been missing for a year, since we moved in and stuff, but compared to the other random hijinks to which the seller has attended (blood spatter on the counters, exploding circuit breaker box), this was a very small problem. With this problem’s small frame, it could curl up in a very small ball.
Christ, it’s Monday again. There was a holiday dinner, and I survived the gauntlet of one billion hugs. The mashed potatoes were instant, and I almost ran screaming into the cold when I found out, but I toughed it out and ate them anyway. Mr. H’s Indian co-workers livened up the proceedings by graciously enduring inadvertent racial slurs. I am pretty sure they took pictures of the carpeted kitchen.
This week my pants don’t fit. I can’t tell if it’s because I am genuinely obese or because the parasite made a major land grab. We’ve been getting quotes for hardwood floor installation (yes, I know people do this themselves, but that’s people), and this has been a humiliating process, reminding me that we have no money. Between that and my rope belt, I feel myself entering a Shame Spiral.
Also, I broke the internet yesterday. Word to the wise: the reset button on a DSL modem is hard to press for a reason. My inner monkey tried power on/power off a few times, but then she stuck a pencil in the reset hole, figuring this must fix internet good. It didn’t. A smarter monkey would have just signed “Put lipstick on cat OK please cake.”
PICK UP PIE TODAY. That’s mine.
Also, SUCKER and CHUMP. The mortgage guy calls from a cellphone listed under someone else’s name. The condo fee is now $40 a month higher, and we haven’t even closed yet. haha.
And let’s not forget SPECIAL. Mr H made coffee in the French press again today, putting on airs and all, and he poured me a cup and showed it to me. Like someone showing a dog the disgraceful leavings on a carpet. NO BARK. Here, HERE, girl. Right HERE. It’s not like I don’t deserve it. The French press was sitting one foot to the right of the coffee maker yesterday. A smarter dog would have noticed and called 911.
I woke up this morning, went about my breakfast and second breakfast routine, and yet I felt too ill to properly enjoy elevensies. I was going to blame the parasite, and I stormed into the kitchen to get the melon baller to have it out once and for all.
But then I noticed the half-filled French press on the counter. That could only mean that Mr H did not make coffee in the coffee maker this morning. Yet I drank coffee from the coffee maker, and I wondered why it was cold. I just thought he must have made it earlier than usual. I’m not one to complain, so I just microwaved what was in the pot and added honey and soy creamer. The parasite is laughing at me now, saying “I told you so!” Except it most certainly did not tell me. It sat idly by, chortling, while I sipped day old coffee. Misery! I am not going to swallow Thanksgiving dinner. I am going to chew n’ spit. That’ll teach it. “Mmmm, isn’t this greenbean casserole delicious? Oh, you’ll never know. That’s too bad.”
You say potato and I say “fuck it”, Let’s Call the Whole Thing Off. I decided not to have Thanksgiving Dinner after all. Though I received several kind invitations to warm hearths, I decided I would rather laze around in my unheated room, and drive around looking for a convenience store that has frozen bagels. When you play surf music, everything feels like a Mission. Take Gas, Goofy Footer Hodad!
Like every lily-livered gold plated American, I have a tarjillion things to be thankful for. But no one wants to hear me opine about how lucky I feel to have all my limbs, food, and a bomb free-sky to gaze up at. So we decided to ask Happy-Go-Lucky Hasselhoff, for a list of the things he holds dear on this day. And we bring you:
I am Thankful For…
2. Chest Wax
4. My favorite well-worn Speedo, “the Gunboat”
but most of all,
5. The Germans!
Happy Thx-giving Everyone!