To: My mouth
Re: Saying “r” and “ch” properly in German
Why can’t you do this? Do you know how much frustration you’re causing me?!
It’s been a while. Miss me? Don’t worry, I’ll be by tonight to TEAR THAT SHIT UP!!
*pulls out empty pockets*
That’s all I got
I’ve recently dicussed my desire to have a mountain pie with a friend. She was clueless as to the deliciousness that is the mountain pie, and I’d be doing her (as well as you, dear reader) a severe disservice if I didn’t share the glory of the mountain pie.
So for those not in the know, a mountain pie is a pizza pocket type thing made with two slices of bread, pizza sauce, cheese, and pepperoni. (Or whatever you’d like it to contain.) The ingredients are placed sandwich-like into a long handled pie iron and held in a fire. (See below.) A campfire works best, but I suppose you could use a bonfire or small housefire if need be. When cooked, you end up with a nugget of goodness that is toasted on the outside, melted and gooey in the middle, and totally delicious.
A mountain pie is synergy at it finest. From the fire rises a pocket of awesome that your taste buds will cherish – all from basic, bland, and often overlooked-in-the-back-of-the-fridge ingredients.
My apartment, early Sunday morning.
Noise: Bang. Bangbangbang. Clunkbang. Bangbangbang.
Me: *Waking with a fright* Wha? What the hell is that?
Me: *Fall back to sleep*
Noise: Bangbangbangbang. BANG. Bang.
Me: *Waking again* Cliiiiff! What are you into?! BE. QUIET.
Cliff: *Picking head up from the bed* Mrh?
Cliff: *Ears perk up and hauls ass** into the dining room*
Me: *Dreading the immediate thought of who is tapping on the window and what I’ll have to do to get rid of her*
Me: GO AWAY!
Me: I’ll shoot!
Me: Fuck! *Getting out of bed and grabbing nightstick to end this shit once and for all*
Me: *Walk into dining room and notice cat on table, staring out window. Look out window to see a big ass squirrel, upside down and stuck to the screen, nibbling on the suet cake in the bird feeder.*
Noise: Bangbangbangbang. Clunk. Bangbang.
Me: *Walk right up to window and peek at wet squirrel. Remember not to eat it, then rescind as I’m not in New Jersey and they’re not toxic around here. Laugh at the idea of squirrel n’ eggs for breakfast. Sersly think about taking it’s photo.*
Squirrel: *NibblenibblenibbleWHATTHEFUCKISTHAT?! Runrunrunrun.
Me: Ahahahaha. *Walk to kitchen to make coffee*
**With my cat, that’s A LOT of ass to haul. You should see the cornering maneuvers.
If you haven’t heard, there was a devastating fire at the Jacksonville Humane Society last weekend. Their main building was destroyed and needs to be condemned; many animals perished. All but 12 of their cats died. If you can spare anything I know it would be greatly appreciated, by people and fuzzy little critters alike.
Bad Work Haiku
My job – it doth blow
Why must you all suck so much
And make me hate you
Bad Cube Neighbor Haiku
Gross fat belching man
Disturbing me every day
Another bad Cube Neighbor Haiku
Gaseous vibrations wafting
Cross national cubicals
Killing me softly
Ode to Chinese Takeout Day
“I will now recite my Ode to Chinese Takeout Day.
Monday, you blew
You blew like Traci Lords
And Tuesday came with hope
Only to be dashed
On the rocks of mind numbing ineptitude
I felt no more anger
I felt no more
But Wednesday brings life
Sweet greasy redemption
Oh! The Chinese Takeout!
Defied by the thick stomach lining
Should the worst indeed come
to the worst
Perhaps you provide respite
Perhaps a forced escape
To the restroom.”