How? Why? Huh?

Spied these exciting diaramas while waiting for my breakfast ciabatta melt.





I think they should step up their drug screening. Seems like they're having too much fun on the night shift.

First "Illustration"

My mommy got me a Bamboo for Chrimmas, and this here is the first thing I drew, kinda quick just to try to blog while it was still Chrimmas (will probably fail at that, too). I don't know why I always draw grapes.

My brother and his girlfriend spent the day with us and we had a delicious dinner and everyone had the warm fuzzies. Until he went to go home and found that the rear window on his brand new car that he's only had for 2 months---the first brand new car of his 31 years, had been shot out by some jerkoff kid who got a bb gun for Chrimmas. Seriously? If I see a kid in my neighborhood with a bb gun I am totally unleashing Uma on him. Then I will follow him home start kicking over shrubberies until his stupid parents reimburse us for the glass. Ok, none of that is true, but I would maybe have a grown-up talk with the stupid parents.

My dad passed away on Christmas Eve-Eve when I was 14. That New Year's, my friend Kristen insisted I come to her Uncle Frank & Aunt Sandy's NYE Party. It was kind of great. Just after midnight, everyone ate grapes and that was supposed to mean good luck or something in the new year. After the grapes, there were the homemade sausage & lettuce sandwiches on crusty rolls. The sausage sandwiches were frickin' awesome. Every year after that, until Kristen's grandmom died, whatever New Years party (the ones with booze & stuff) we were at, after the ball dropped, we would pile into a car (with a responsible driver, natch) and zip over to her grandmom's house for a sausage sandwich. We would stand there in her kitchen, kinda drunk, while Kristen's dad told us inappropriate jokes.

That's it, the end. No epiphany. Grapes & sausage sandwiches.

Holiday Lunch

All the bigwigs gathered round in plastic aprons and served us quite a lovely holiday lunch. The president of the company gave me my ham slices and my boss tried to douse my plate in gravy, but I said "no, no, no." There was even a DJ spinnin' the chrimmastime hits. It kind of reminded me of that time they served Thanksgiving dinner at Rogers Hall. When we ate by candlelight. That was nice.

chicken fingies

I read this article today about how chicken fingers/nuggets have become the scourge of the average american kid diet.

It reminded me of being eight years old and hating vegetable soup so much. My mom wouldn't let me leave the table until I ate my whole bowl. I distinctly remember, as the 7 o'clock hour crept past, frequently excusing myself to the bathroom with fist-fulls of soup to flush down the toilet.

Also on the enemies list were (and still are, natch) beef stew, anything slathered in gravy, the classic frozen peas n' carrots mix, cooked carrots in general, mushrooms, onions, and brown potatoes.

I hate cooked carrots, but at least I know why. Without struggle, there is no progress & all that.