Not that this is a new development, but my hair presently feels "seductive and luxuriant". Due entirely to my shampoo. Being a bit of a doofus, I forgot to buy a new bottle until after I had run entirely out. And, of course, on Thanksgiving no local stores were open. Several big-box retailers were, but this being San Francisco we only have mainstreet brick and mortars run by mom and pop (and several poorly paid staff members), all of whom needed off to go eat some miserably dried out dead bird dolled up with sugar crusted rootvegetables, canned cranberry muck, off the shelf just add liquid stuffing (whatever that is), and some gawdawful compound of frozen string beans, dried onion soup mix, and tinned mushroom and dairy spackle.
None of which I've had in several years.
Not that I wanted to anyhow.
Whatever.
Food between Wednesday morning, and tonight, in order of appearance.
Wednesday: Crackers and cheese, cookies, roast duck over rice, and after midnight some chicken and pork franks fried with bacon.
Thursday: A cookie and some yoghurt, a flaky charsiu turnover and a cup of milk tea, rice porridge made with smoked meats plus ginger and scallion, mustard green stalks stirfried, and two cream puffs.
Friday: cheddar crackers, a miserable sandwich made with alleged "South-West Mayonnaise" (hoohah!) and bag of Jalapeno chips, cheese enchiladas with some duck liver Chinese pork sausage and Sriracha, cake (coffee & chocolate cream).
Saturday: cheddar crackers, and another horrid sandwich.
And four Mozart Kugeln ("Die echte Reber Mozart Kugeln"), consisting of mandeln marzipan enrobed in Schokolade. Two yesterday, two today.
They were excellent.
The sandwiches, which were altogether repulsive (bleghhh!), represent fine bourgeois cuisine in the epicentre of fester, Marin County.
Bear in mind that they were (marginally) edible with Sriracha.
FYI: South-West mayonnaise is a misnomer.
The meat was mysterious.
No Turkey.
On Wednesday all conversations in English involved what was going to be eaten the next day. On Thursday those same conversations involved food in the process of being digested. On Friday I got to hear (in English) what everyone else ate the previous day. On Saturday, even more people informed me what they had consumed with gusto.
On Thursday AND on Friday.
Turkeys are the BORG! Resistance is futile.
I've also had conversations in Cantonese these past few days.
Remarkably, they weren't food-related.
Thank goodness.
The best part of Thanksgiving is the shampoo.
Everyone around me should be glad that I do not snit nor throw snits, nor radiate a snitful attitude, nor have, in fact, any snitlike tendencies. At all.
The snit and me parted ways aeons ago. My snit is monumental by its complete absence. Which is remarkable. Rather than snit, which might be expected, I am suffused with an equitable and benevolent radiance.
I am in full control of my inner nature.
And quite snitless.
I am 'No-Snit Snerlock'.
Everybody should have shampoo for Thanksgiving.
PS.: This is the last Thanksgiving-themed post in a while, I promise.
At least several months.
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MAY GET DIZZY, DON'T GET PREGNANT
After picking up my refills I mentally calculated how often I've been to that pharmacy. More times than my years of age. Which is not su...
2 comments:
Oh you sad basterd! Of course you're probabaly a rather unpleasant old grouch, so we can understand why no one would think of inviting you.
A Grinch 365 days a year does not become a guest you want to meet the family.
[Sneer off]
Eat more. You're starving.
Find someone small and soft to eat with.
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