Eventually, microwaves die. Usually right after the dishwasher. They are proceed in death by the clothes dryers, and survived by the washing machine.
The new microwave has a setting for “Potato.”
When did the t-shirt become a souvenir, sprout sentimental value, and suddenly you have 347 of them, occupying several drawers in the dresser? Many of them don’t fit anymore, just as many are in colors you wouldn’t be caught dead in, and several have slogans or sayings with which your personal ethics may no longer be aligned. But you got that shirt at Cedar Point that day that Aunt Vivian choked on the peanut and your mom laughed so hard she had to put her hand between her legs and run for the bathroom and therefore you have to keep that tiny, turquoise shirt that reads, “SANDUKSY!”
As one mellows on the pathway to senility, one should make a concerted effort to purchase socks sporting a pattern of some kind. In this way, they are still match-able, and one can potentially even tell if they are inside out. If one is standing by a window. During the day. In Arizona.
People own caviar servers. Yes, yes they do. There are people who will eat fish eggs who are so rich that they can afford them in quantity, and so disciplined that they can eat them slowly, that they need to pack them in ice to keep them at the ready. I will probably never end up at a shindig where one of these is sitting next to the thin mints, but if I do I’m gonna betcha I make a horrible, horrible faux pas.
When your doctor advises you to ingest large doses of Vitamin C, and you’re already taking so many pills and nasal sprays that you’re pretty sure people can’t get pregnant within 20 miles of your corpus you can elect to chew Adult Gummies instead. BUT they are not calorie-free, and either is anything made by the Hall’s people. Which is why they say, “Starve a fever, but FEED…”
This is the picture of Alan Cumming I didn't know how to post in the last blog. Because I can.