A Chaotic Neutral Grocery List

A Chaotic Neutral Grocery List

  • Peachy-O’s stuck to the points on an aloe 
  • Hot Wheels cars joined as a bathroom mat
  • Cigarettes before bed, but not after sex
  • Cats in tiny bikinis 
  • Ringing the doorbell instead of calling upon arrival 
  • Toe socks*
  • Thinly veiled criticism 
  • Mr. Pibb instead of Dr. Pepper 
  • Not complimenting another drunk girl in the bathroom 
  • Arguments with your mom but not with your lover
  • “Enjoy your meal!” and responding “you too.” 

*Remind Chaotic Evil to pick up toe shoes

This guest post brought to you by Maggie “Maximal Awesomeness” Harper.

Two Delightful Ditties

I started a writing group. It was awesome. In our first meeting, we completed three 10 minute writing sprints, each followed by responses from peers. Here, my delightful darlings, you may find two of those creations:

Prompt 1: Picture an object from your childhood. Write something involving or inspired by it. 

I’m two years old and in a swing. A duck swing. A goofy, yellow duck swing. My sister stands behind me, pushing. I don’t have a fond memory of this first memory of my life but hey, isn’t that fitting for a constructed memory? See: 

I don’t actually remember being in that swing. I don’t feel my sister standing over me. I don’t feel what it’s like to be bald and big-eyed and have my lips puff out like Alec Baldwin doing a Trump impression. I can’t. It’s not a real memory. It’s a memory of a picture my mother (father?) took. A picture I’ve seen countless times and incorporated so much into my being it’s become what feels like my earliest memory. 

I feel sad when I think about it. 

It feels like the outside looking in, interposing on me in a nonconsentual way. Like we’re born and we die and in the middle we waffle around, buffetted and muffeted and ruffeted and scuffed by those bigger or stronger or wiser or older or first. Just first. Because first isn’t even a legitimate benefit. First is just first. It’s born at the right time or the right place or to the right sister or parents. And that reminds me of the melencholy in the world and that makes me sad.

I look back to that picture—that swing where I’m dangling form the ceiling, suspended in some ridiculous duck swing and I’m reminded no person is alone. No one is an individual. No being lives in true isolation. 

Still, at least I was supported. 

Prompt 2: Remember a time something made you angry. Like a 6 out of ten. Dial it up to an 8. Now a 9. Now a 4. What would it be like to live life feeling that level of angry in that situation instead?

“What is sanity?” The blue shrimp told me. 

It was tuesday, and tuesday is when the existentialists meet. 

“I don’t know, but he does,” he replied. 

“You can’t reply to yourself,” I told him, “It’s against the rules” and that’s when it 

broke. 

It shattered to tatters as my grey matter splattered. 

What’s it like to be an honest orange? 

How do orangutans pick a hand? 

What’s a perspective and how does it–? 

Can I please have another? or another? Or a hug. 

I don’t find myself flying most of the time. 

I don’t find myself crying most of the time. 

The words come in and I grasp what I can. 

Most tunas escape their captors. All salmon some day die. 

“This got weird”, I want to say, but then you’ll know that I could’ve stopped it, 

and we forgive those that can’t help it while

lighting aflame those that can. 

What is responsibility? 

What is it to be mean? 

Eery comparison…

Cops in 1974 vs today:

I suppose I had implicitly assumed that things had dramatically improved in every area over the last 45 years…

Today in Music.

In which I attempt to play the intro to Thunder Road on Harmonica (I do not yet play the harmonica), do a poor, shrill, and off-key impression of Bruce Springsteen, and snuggle quietly with the dog.
(Also, at the end, the song ends rather abrup

Notes to readers:

  • If you have a harmonica in the key of F, play along.

Notes to self:

  • Yes, I always knew I was going to be famous.
  • Yes, I posted these in part to inoculate myself against public mockery and to get comfortable with being emotionally authentic in public.

Jaywalking & You: A Guide

This is not a guide to jaywalking. It’s a humorous story; I lied.

Now that I’ve got your attention, please enjoy this anecdote. ‘Twas written by a dear friend of mine, Archibald Smittens*, who is a real person** who actually exists***.

*: Not his real name.

**: Not true.

***: Censors have attempted to verify this for years. None have, as yet, returned alive.

[Your Humble Editor also feels obligated to preface by saying that the low-fat version of cream cheese DOES NOT taste the same. He does not wish to spread such malicious lies. Anyway, without further ado…]

3 Perspectives on Jaywalking

Perspective 1:

The red hand. Just great.

9:27—three minutes left. The coffee shop’s only what? three, four blocks away? I can still make it…

The woman next to me just quickly skimmed the empty road and then jaywalked. More like a leisurely jay-stroll. What’s she thinking? Back home, no one would ever do that. Ma would’ve killed me. It was either jaysprint or jaysplat.

Still no cars, and that red hand’s still there.

Well, maybe it is time for a jaysprint.

But I’m in a suit; that’d look weird…right?

Middle-aged guy checks his watch, gulps down a half-chewed bite of bagel, and then rushes across the street. Didn’t even look both ways. Actually looked kinda cool doing it.

Well, until he dropped the bagel.

Maybe I should bolt across too. Like one of those guys from the movies.

Oof, curbside puddle. Just great.

Ah a dry patch. Perfect.

Wait.

Who am I kidding. I can’t.

My foot returns to the curb, defeated.

The empty road stares back.

Maybe… Just maybe…

My foot lifts off again.

Maybe just this once…

And the red hand turns into the white man.

Oh well. Right. Left. Empty road.

At least, Ma’d be proud.

Perspective 2:

Damn good bagel today. Think I’m gonna stick with this low fat stuff. Tastes pretty much the same as the regular cream cheese.

Countdown stops. But that stupid hand’s still there.

Chunks getting stuck in my teeth? Gotta check before I walk in the office.

Oh wow, now dumbass over here walks across the intersection. No hesitation. No urgency either. The hell’s wrong with her?

No cars out there, but seriously, lady? Can’t wait like two goddamn seconds for this light?

What’s the deal huh? Late or something? What’s the time anyways?

It’s only 9:28. Really? C’mon lady?

9:28!

Shit! Move people, move!

Yeesh. Took ya long enou—

Shit! No time to pick it up.

Perspective 3:

Red.

Right. Left. No cars.

Let’s go.

Travelog Tuesday 191029 (Redacted Version)

Start: [Redacted], New Orleans, Louisiana. 

End: Parked outside the New Orleans African American Museum, Governor Nicholl’s Street, New Orleans, Louisiana

Exciting Events: 

  • None to speak of. 

Real Realizations: 

  • All the thoughts that bubbled up as part of watching the comedy special Nanette. 

Quotent Quotables: 

  • This dialog:
    • Me: “I’m doing a couples costume with my dog: I’m Lucius Malfoy and she’s Dobby the House Elf.” 
    • [Redacted] (Former college classmate): “That sounds exploitative.”
    • Me: “Yeah, I’ll have to watch out for the Society for the Promotion of Elfish Welfare.”

Commonplace occurrences: 

  • Vaguely disappointing [redacted]. 
  • A bit of [redacted] work. 

Disappointing doldrums: 

  • Didn’t love [redacted]. Enjoyed talking [redacted] though. 

Delicious Delectables: 

  • Pizza & fettuccine in New Orleans again.
  • Ben & Jerry’s Chunky Monkey.  

Alluring Activities: 

  • Work.
  • Date with [redacted]. 
  • My death ceremony. 
  • Getting out of New Orleans. 

The Fiercest Chihuahua You’ve Ever Met

In this corner, at five-pound-four and thirty inches long, she’s the fiercest chihuahua you’ve ever met. She defends her food with the courage of a Rottweiler. She’s a fierce mama bear with six gnawed nipples to prove it. She marks giants’ territory as her own and likes her scritches… ruff.

 

Ladies and Gentlemen…

 

 

 

 

The one and only…

 

 

 

 

 

Smidge

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Want more Smidge? Comment with a request. 

Burrata & Salami on Lap

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Ingredients:

  • Burrata
  • Salami (sliced)
  • A second salami (unsliced)
  • Gluttonous attitude

Preparation Instructions:

  1. Stop at a grocery store en route to the gym.
  2. Find the burrata cheese.
  3. Consider buying two burratas.
  4. Notice there’s a sale.Buy three, and tack on a package of salami for good measure. IMG_7054

Consumption instructions:

  1. When opening the burrata, be careful not to spill any of the salt water. (This will be important later.)
  2. Open the package of salami.
  3. Slice off bits of the burrata using the plastic fork.
  4. Add burrata to salami and consume.
  5. Retrieve from your fridge the rosemary salami you recently purchased at a farmer’s market.
  6. Slice off bits of the salami with a knife.
  7. Add burrata to salami and consume.
  8. When the burrata is gone, drink the milky salt watery goodness. (I told you it would be important).
  9. Use a fork to remove the small delicious curds from the bottom of the bowl.
  10. Eat a second burrata, because you lifted weights today.
  11. Be glad you purchased three.

Did you enjoy this post? Want me to consume a specific food? Comment on this article so I know what you want me to write.  

Fuchs Geh Voran!

This song is hilarious.

Funny bits:

  1. It’s a German heavy metal cover of the U.S. Bubblegum Pop band that wrote “The Ballroom Blitz.”
  2. The original song, “Fox on the Run“, tells the story of a man chasing after an attractive woman. The German heavy metal cover, “Fuchs Geh Voran“, describes an actual fox-hunt, like those that happened in Jane Austin’s day.
  3. The original song is by Sweet, a shortened form of “The Sweetshop”, a place where children receive candy. The German Heavy Metal Band named themselves “Scorpions,” one of the world’s top 5 creepiest animals. And they didn’t choose “The Scorpions,” with a “The” to indicate they’re a band, not actual scorpions. Nor did they choose the singular form, “Scorpion”. No, they wanted fans to imagine multiple creepy crawlies each time their band name is mentioned.
  4. Heavy metal, fox hunting, and the German language are a great combo. An excerpt of the lyrics: (For full effect, imagine it sung in German, backed by heavy metal music. And if you don’t know German, simply imagine in a heavy German accent.) 

Hey, you beautiful animal,
I come and help you,
you are in danger.

Hey, you all just want your fur,
and whoever sells it fast,
yes that’s unfortunately true.

Wir müßen den Fuchs häuten!

The humor has concluded. You may now laugh.

If you enjoyed this piece, please like it or leave a comment. It helps me know what to write. 

 

Yo BTB! (Bearded Tomato Bisque) 

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Ingredients:
  • 7 tins Yogurt, in any flavor (Note: individually-wrapped tins of cottage cheese are also acceptable, but only if they have fruit on the bottom. For this meal, I used 4 yogurt, 3 cottage cheese.)
  • 1 can Campbell’s® Tomato Bisque
Instructions:
  1. Grow a beard.
  2. Eat 6 Yogurts.
  3. Remove lid from the Campbell’s® Tomato Bisque.
  4. Sip half the Campbell’s® Tomato Bisque.
  5. Eat the final Yogurt.
  6. Sip the rest of the Bisque.
  7. Fall asleep in your van.
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