Saturday, July 21, 2012

I've been running out my pantry in an effort to make moving all that easier and so I don't have to get groceries again until I move. I remembered why I don't eat Zatarain's much anymore. It makes my ass smell like a tire fire and my poops come out like a torn open bag of peat moss.

The exciting part about this move is that in a few months, I'll have my hospital bills paid off, giving me actual disposable income from whatever job I have at that point. That means it's time to get my car fixed, get it running on all cylinders again instead of the five the mechanic says I'm running on. I don't know what that means, but it sounds expensive. When the day comes that the hospitals are no longer getting twice what I pay in rent, I have a plan for a feast involving a quarter barrel of good beer and very much meat. I think about this every day, about what I want. Today I wondered if deep frying a pig would be possible. Not likely. Deep fried bacon? Is that something I want to eat? My body says no, but my brain says yes. I've emailed the traveling vegan chef to try to get him to stop in Milwaukee because I purchased his previous book for my friend who doesn't cook but was vegetarian and I'm in love with his "travelling chef" idea.  I don't generally do vegan after eating baba ghanoush and what felt like nearly losing my asshole because of it. But I'm looking to throw a massive food party that rivals past Tomsgivings, the Queen's jubilee and other feasts.The promise of being debt free and feeling able to import fancy cooking magazines makes me very excited and is what keeps me getting out of bed in the morning.

said Tommy T. at 4:16 PM - #

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