Creamed Candy Corn
Baby Ruth Bader Ginsburg
Pieces of Reese Witherspoon
Today, I learned that beaver anal juice – “castoreum” – is a common taste enhancer in raspberry-flavored foods.
And that rimming a beaver is surprisingly fruity!
The long weekend was finally upon me. I bid farewell to my wife and children. They would be spending the next few days with the inlaws, leaving me with a list of things to do around the house, and an empty hole in my heart.
But mostly that list.
Can a man fend for himself without human interaction, hot food or clean underpants? And will he wait to cut the lawn until about ten minutes before they’re due back?
At age 48, I intended to find out.
He was truly… Alone in the Suburbs. They even took the fucking dog. But he would endure. He would even consider filming his one man odyssey with the help of an iphone mounted on a tripod and that app that makes everything look like an old home movie like the one that guy made about living all by himself in Alaska for like a year or something. But then he thought, “too much work.”
DAY ONE: I arose bright and early, getting right to work fashioning my own primitive tools. I carved a mallet head out of a block of wood, augured a hole into it, and fitted a handle.
Actually, I slept until about noon, and I’m not really sure what augured means.
When I awoke, I was anxious to get to the couch to see if there was anything good on ESPN2.
Eventually, I needed to forage for sustenance. I prepared a hearty meal of cheesy taco-flavored pizza rolls and the rest of the Cinnamon Toast Crunch.
I should probably get to that lawn.
As the sun began to set, I thought of all I’d accomplished that day. I had the process of doing dishes down to a science by not actually doing them. And I saved myself any additional work by drinking right from the carton.
(Back to the bathroom.)
Tomorrow should see more working. And less dairy.
The Adventures of Huckleberry Pie
Lord of the Fries
The Catcher in the Ham on Rye
It’s Not Deliverance, It’s DiGiorno’s
Make Way for Pan-Seared Duck in a Delightful Port Reduction
Goodnight Moon Pie
Frog and Toad Taste Like Chicken
Lemony Snickerdoodles: A Series of Unfortunate Desserts
The Hitchhiker’s Guide to the Galaxy Diner on 46th and 9th
If you’re old, you probably eat applesauce.
If you eat applesauce, you’ll inevitably spill some.
If you spill some applesauce, it will land on your glasses on a string around your neck because you’re old.
The whole mess will remind you of a children’s book series, and give you an idea for a sequel.
So you’ll start writing about it on your blog while eating more applesauce.
And chances are, if you write about it on your blog while eating more applesauce, you’ll spill some on your glasses on a string around your neck so you don’t lose them because you’re old.
• 12% of all players in World Cup once in Menudo.
• Traditional post-game exchange of jerseys dates back to that one guy who was into that kinda shit.
• Collect three yellow cards and win a complete set of flatware.
• American soccer fans not this excited about anything since Capri Sun’s new clear bottom.
• National anthem of Columbia actually that one Eric Clapton song.
• Average player runs up to 7 miles in one game, still gets shot by as many as 3 snipers.
• Head of stadium security actually the guy who used to stand out in front of the Sbarro at the food court in Paramus Mall.
• 92% of US fans who travel to Sau Paulo bring cooler full of HotPockets and Sunny D so they won’t have to leave the room after dark.
• Inside official game ball: nougat.