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That is all. All of the other movies this year were terrible.

I needed a few small gifts for some people I acknowledge, and I was panicking. What to do? The gifts had to be exotic (but cheap) and small (yet enchanting). They had to be exquisite, but economical. Voguish, but bargain basement. So I bought some fancy boxes from Fancy Boxes Et Cetera and I filled them with Raisinets. Then I printed out some gold decals that said:

“Here at Piffen Kruk, we start with the finest natural Pif from the ancient Krukken Flyyen forest of Jaffjkkok. We remove the Kruk Flut by hand and roast the Pif kernels to perfection. Then we swirl the freshly roasted Pif into a bed of sweet dark goat whey, creating the perfect blend of creamy, viscous Piffen Kruk that generations of Jaffjkkokers have grown to rather care for.”

So far, the response to my gifts has been outstanding, and in return I have received three job offers, two marriage proposals, and a black aluminum double-matted Successories print depicting a golf course at dawn. “EXCELLENCE IS NEVER AN ACCID-,” it declares. The rest of the quotation seems to have been scratched off or damaged in transit, but it’s the thought that counts.

Partay! Jist fried meself an' me lads a sack av latkes. De air is so theck wi' oil dat two av me leprechaun guests 'av passed oyt - an' wan ignited whaen yer man sat too close ter a lamp. Seriously though, oi canny breathe. But de latkes - they were delicious.

Ah, cr'ahp. Oi canny breathe in me own gaff.

Luk 'ere if yer loike.
An' 'ere.
An' 'ere.


As yer can clap, de EPA does not acknowledge latke-related indoor air pollushun. Stoney broke wee little people, wi' their tiny lungs!

Extrovert + Extrovert = Just Fine, Whatever
Extrovert + Introvert = Workable
Introvert + Introvert = Deadfuckinglock! Fucking hell, just ANSWER ME when I finally say something! Fucking TALK already! FUCK OFF!!

This is what I saw as I woke this morning. Been cowering in the bathtub ever since.

Did you mean to send out holiday cards, but you just plain forgot, or were too cheap or wroth to get the job done? Me too, but so what? Instead of sending cards, I’m going to what I’ve always done, which is wrap a few McDonald’s hot apple pies in coloring pages and mail them out in February. “Enjoy the hot apple pie!” I’ll write on the envelopes. This year, I’ll also write “THIS SIDE UP” and “FRAGILE PIE,” so the Post Office doesn’t squish the holy Jack Andrews out of them.

This year’s coloring pages:

Royal Canadian Mounted Police
Who checks what
Hi There
Queen Esther (sartorially confusing)
Man in a frock falls into Leviathan mouth (Leviathan with hat version)
Loan officer Williams
Put your mind at ease

I think I will start wearing a Baby Bjorn, but I will not put a baby in it. I will just wear it empty. Then, after about three weeks of wandering around this way, I will put a gallon of Tampico in the Baby Bjorn. When someone asks why I have a gallon of Tampico in my Baby Bjorn, I will gasp and say, “I… I can’t… remember.” I will stagger around a little, for effect, and then I will roar maniacally, pull some Dixie cups out of my cargo pants pocket and pour everyone a cup of refreshing, life-giving Tampico. The crowd will cheer and lift me up on their shoulders. Then I will eat a Mento.

I threw a terrific party last Tuesday evening - it's taken me until now to get the house back in order. Everyone had a great time, but the best part was that I prepared all the food myself! My guests were in a pie heaven of sorts, though I didn't serve pie because it's too involved. My party food was so good that Violet suggested I publish the menu online so others can enjoy it. So here it is, Le Menu:

Little celeries stuffed with peanut butter and raisins - These were very popular. I've had the raisins in my cupboard for at least two years, but thankfully, nobody seemed to notice.

Little Cheese Pastries - These were great! When I took them out of the oven, they were stuck to the pan, so I just put the whole pan on the serving table. Guests tried to pry the pastries off the pan with their fingers. It was easy to get the cheese off the pastry, but most of the pastry itself stayed on the pan. Some of the guests complained, so I tried to scrape the pastries off the pan with a martini glass. The glass broke and I cut my hand. I probably should have gone to the ER but everyone was having such a good time at my party that I couldn't bear to leave. Questionable judgement, perhaps, given my excessive blood loss and frequent fainting spells.

Carrots - I hate carrots! I didn't "prep" the carrots at all. I didn't even wash them or take them out of the bag. I didn't even open the bag. These went over big, I thought - they disappeared right away. Later, I found them in the toilet tank, still unopened.

Glazed Cinnamon Almonds - I ate most of these myself, I do think, but not by design. I hadn't cooled the glazed almonds before I poured them into the serving dish, so they all stuck together. The glazed hardened far beyond the call of duty and the almonds couldn't be separated. Also, the glaze remained tremendously sticky, so when I reached into the bowl later, my hand stuck fast to the entire glazed almond ball. My right hand was wrapped in gauze by that time, so I couldn't pull the almond entity off my left. I had to eat the whole thing.

Shrimp - The box said "From the freezer to your table," so I didn't bother thawing them. I simply put the box on the table. Nobody touched them, not even the goyim.

Buffalo chicken wings - I've never made these before. I received several compliments on my wings, such as "I'm really enjoying the Buffalo sauce," and "I'm not so sure these wings are cooked through." They must have been slippery little guys, because I found several wings between couch cushions and behind bookcases.

Chips and salsa - The chips I had nothing to do with, but the salsa I made myself. It was easy! Tomato sauce, chopped-up jalapeno, pan drippings, worcestershire sauce, and skimmed milk. Food processor. Very popular! I must have served the salsa in a cracked dish, because a lot of it seeped out onto the tablecloth. But still very good salsa.

Raspberry Chipotle crostini - I couldn't get the polenta to set on it's own, so I made these crostini in mini muffin cups. The raspberry chipotle topping sort of mixed in with the wet polenta, and by the time I served this dish, the paper muffin cups had absorbed so much oil that they collapsed and disappeared into the polenta/raspberry chipotle mix. I set out little spoons by the mini muffin pan and called it Tuscan soupini.

Beer fried blankets - I created this recipe myself. In an ideal world, these would be small squares of dough fried in beer. In the real world, the boiling beer started smoking, set off the fire alarm and sort of seared the wall and ceiling adjacent. I didn't think anybody would want the dough blankets if they hadn't been successfully fried in beer, so I ate them myself.

Phwew! It was a lot of work, but it was worth it. The doctor says my hand may never heal properly, but he also said that I should "stop drinking milk" in order to "cure my lactose intolerance," so I probably just need to find a new doctor.

Usually, when I drink a can of Diet Coke, I drink the whole can without burping. I save up all my burps for the end and then I emit a gorgeous string of approximately 35 to 40 burps of various sizes and shapes. This is not how the Buddhist monks do it, however. They let their burps happen as they happen. They do not try to control the burps. What rises rises and what falls falls, and who are they to corral their gas into one explosive, mind-blowing finale? The rigid reed breaks while the bamboo bends, and all that nonsense. And what of it? Really, I don’t care what the Buddhists do because I know I’m right.

If you’re looking for some helpful tips, by all means don’t bother using Google to find them. I just did a Google search for “tips” and all I got was pure crap nonsense. Then I tried narrowing my search by typing in “tips for doing awesome stuff.” More rubbish! So I searched “tips for helping me complete particular things or activities.” That got me thousands of pages of grade-A choice junk. I hate this stupid computer, I’m going to throw it into the canal.

Hi everybody. How do you like my blog template refurbishment? I spent no hours on it, and I must say, it looks fantastic. It’s weird how almost beginning to consider slightly altering your blog template can really spruce the page up. I feel like a new woman.

Confidential to Pat in Encino: I’m sure your airbrushed posters are beautiful, but I don’t believe in river trolls anymore, and I have some serious misgivings about highland unicorns, too. Please take me off your mailing list.

Just had a tremendous idea for a movie. A traveling salesman shows up at a white bungalow with two tongs in a tote, one tawny tong and one tongol tong for tuna. He wants to sell his tongs to the woman of the house but she refuses because she never buys from traveling salesmen. Also, she already has two tongs. This is where the plot gets interesting. The tong salesman has a seizure in the woman's kitchen, and when he finally comes to, the movie is already over and he's been sued for breach of contract. The viewer never finds out about the lawsuit because the movie ended right after the seizure. I can't remember if it was grand mal or petit mal. Who wants ice cream?

I am incredibly hungry, and yet I do nothing to assuage my hunger. It doesn’t seem to be my responsibility any more. I am responsible for many wonderful things - local well poisonings, pious counter-graffiti near the railroad tracks, etc.… but feeding myself? No. Not for me. If somebody doesn’t come by with a tray of finger sandwiches soon I may fall into a semi-permanent stupor. Who will poison the wells then?! If not me, who? If not now, when?

I've spent the past 4 years writing a fantastic Swedish folktale. It takes place on gentle rolling hills of south-central Minnesota in 1890. Gertie and Albert are Swedes. "This is the story of two Swedes, picked to live in a house and have their lives taped, to see what happens when people stop being polite, and start poisoning each other with something from a can." This is their folktale, a play in one act. Four years of my life! Finally, it's perfect enough for print.

Alarum. Enter Gertie and Albert.

Gertie: Drink this, yah? (hands can to Albert)

Albert: (drinks from can) Good drink! (finishes can)

Gertie: It's poison, yah.

Albert: POISON?! (stunned, drops can)

Gertie: Ooooh, yah. Poison.

Albert: Will I die?

Gertie: Yah. Real soon.

Exeunt.

It is imperative that David Cameron triumph in the Conservative leadership election. This is not a matter of issues or ideals or a fresh start; it is an aesthetic matter. Cameron is more handsome than Davis and there is no getting around that.

I may be a pushover when it comes to panda embryos, unilateral war, and international table tennis, but when it comes to Conservative party leadership, I stand firm. Tippecanoe and Tyler Too, etc. etc.

Hello, the Halloween Peeps I've been aging have matured. They're finally stale enough for human consumption. By the time you read this, they will be gone.




I have taken the liberty of collaborating with Emily Dickinson in documenting this phenomenon:

The Products of my Farm are Peeps
Sufficient for my Own
And here and there a Benefit
Unto a Neighbor's Bin, but not really.
Because I ate them all.

With Me, 'tis Harvest all the Year
For when the Frosts begin
We just reverse the Zodiac
And fetch the Christmas Peeps in.



Now if you'll excuse me, I have to go into the next room and have diabetes.

Last Sunday I remembered that I forgot to celebrate Labor Day, so I spent Monday-Thursday celebrating Labor Day. To celebrate, I ate all the foods I normally eat and I pretended I didn't have a blog. What did you do? I presume you ate all the foods you normally eat and pretended I didn't have a blog. Very good.

Am considering celebrating Flag Day next week. To mark the occasion, I will eat copious amounts of toast and break into every car on the block. I won't actually steal anything from the cars, I'll just leave notes that say "Sorry I missed your birthday. I promise to take you out for ice cream when I get back into town. Love, Dad."