Friday, December 04, 2009

Quaint Vignettes From My Charming Rural Idyll

I remember my ex-husband the way he looked when last I saw him 23 or so years ago: a sweet little catamite angel, pretty as an elf. Naturally platinum blond, with sculpted lips, bone structure forever, chocolate brown eyes, slim, athletic and stylish (and trying to choke me out and kick my legs out from underneath me while I held our infant daughter in my arms. Ahem.)

Time, as they say, wounds all heels. I finally saw a picture of him taken about a year or so ago.

The guy looks exactly like a really mean hard boiled egg.

I could not POSSIBLY be more delighted!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!

The swine and their so-called flu which has the brain of a duck you know have been defeated and I once again reign supreme, striding unseen and foul through the waste places of the earth. I thought it was gonna kill me. I can see why this shit is taking lives-even with good nutrition and timely medical care I was left feeling like I'd had a giant horrible leech sucking my will to live. The only other time I was left feeling this completely beat up and exhausted was after I'd given birth. It scared me badly.

From what I read swine flu heads straight for the lungs and creates all kinds of havoc there. I am here to testify to that fact, chillun. I went straight from it to bronchitis and pneumonia without stopping at GO. I could not walk across the room. I felt like-no exaggeration-I was being shot in multiple places all over my torso and upper legs with an industrial pin nailer every time I coughed (yeah I know I already said this in my last post but it bears repeating. It HURT.). All I can say is thank God I finished my Christmas shopping early because one trip to the seething dish of agar and pestilence called the ladies room at WalMart would have flat killed me. Just touching the latch on the stall door. BOOM. Dead. On the floor.

My advice to you is: don't get swine flu. And if someone offers you some swine flu, like say at a party or on the elevator or something, just say no.


This past summer the Yummy Biker decided to take a mental health holiday from work. The Playboy of the Western World was kind enough to leave us more than enough wherewithal (which is French for 'massive cash') to take a few months off and enjoy life. We did a little recreational spending, travelled around, took a few road trips on the Victory, and hung out with degenerates. It was awesome!

Whats not so awesome, at least as far as my ego is concerned, is that suddenly the Biker has blossomed into a world class chef.

Here's the deal: I am the queen of cuisine around here. ME.

When I first met this man he was doing lame bachelor white trash things like eating dehydrated mashed potatoes and putting brown sugar into marinara. Meanwhile its been me who cranked out the serious chow and garnered all the applause and had to pretend to be all humble and shit. Sure, I'd let him mess around and make a few side dishes and stuff or do simple shit like roasts. I even let him keep his gimpy kitchen tools in my kitchen; it made him happy. And its not like he didn't have native talent; once I'd introduced him to the concept of respect for ingredients (and hidden the brown sugar) he demonstrated an amazing gift for flavor combinations and textures, better by far than mine. Still, could he make bread? Deep fry? Knock out a hollandaise, or put together a pate brisee or make a comfit or do any of that fancy technique stuff? No way.

Not then.

Here I thought he was laying on the couch all mokin da doink and reading American Iron. I was wrong. What he was actually doing was laying on the couch mokin da doink and watching Food Network and taking notes.

No kidding. I've found notes.

I'd be outside working in the garden, feeding stray cats into the chipper and meanwhile his ass was in the kitchen making fucking tapanade. I come in and he's all like "Oh here," and hands me some dish of amazing miraculous amazingness. "I made dinner."

I put on ten pounds in three months.


  1. Anonymous12:22 PM


  2. no, wonderful!

    ...I have no idea what either of us are talking about.

  3. I was ordered by my doctor to NOT accept swine flu from anyone. So you are my second opinion. I would like to find someone in my kitchen cooking me stuff, even dehydrated potatoes with or without brown sugar in the marinara.
    Like that? I really do read your blog...ha

  4. Anonymous2:55 PM

    I did swine flu about 2 months ago. I also have asthma, so i ended in hospital in a ventolin tent... I genuinely thought I might die for the first time ever and I am 45...

  5. Crikey.

    Swine flu approached me and I wafted it away as all foul little viruses should be.

    Are we all dead yet?

    I'm not, but it's only a matter of time.

    Dugongs in Heaven shall be my cry as I ask my way to the Great Golden Arches in the Sky.

  6. Zats ma boy!
    Or whatever the bull dog off Tom & Jerry sounds like.....

  7. Lordy I am very happy you kicked the swine flu habit, we have been hit hard here in Coos County but no fatalities,Thank all the Gods.

    TEN pounds the biker put on you!? Why that's that's....can I have some?

  8. I'm up to date on all my shots, so the piggy flu probably won't make a landing in my lungs. I've been around enough of it in the hospital for it to have had a chance and so far... nada. Which is the way I want to keep it, of course.

    Glad to hear you have recovered and are back in the land of the living. I can't think of any reason why one would not want a manchef in the kitchen.

    Personally, I love one!

  9. vicus: well.....good. for you. um. yeah.

    gale: well I never thought you didn't! and I read yours too. its getting kind of sexually explicit, and the multiple references to pus and satanism are kind of appalling, but it's your blog and you do what you have to do, gale.

    mr. the dog: oh holy CRAP mutts! a ventolin TENT? when you get sick you don't mess around do you. luckily I escaped the hospital. just. are you doing better now? you better be! XXOO my darling.

    garfy: sometimes i read your comments and i don't know whether to envy you for the quality of weed you seem to be smoking up there or to worry about the quality of weed you've been smoking up there. in any event you don't have swine flu, and you DO know whats important, which is dugongs.

    Ara: aint he grand? and he's a chip off de ole block!

    retro: its got to be all those fresh winds in off the ocean or the turkeys or something. its all over the place here. and if you want some chow, girl, then get on up here. I can't put it in an envelope and mail it to you. that would be gross.

    ponita: you have that good immune system from being one of those outdoorsy people, see. my immune system is all wussy and emo. my immune system wears really tight pants below its ass and has a black hitler haircut that hangs all in its eyes and listens to lots of phish.

  10. I see that all of your three personalities were battling it out for position in this post.

  11. ...AND my immune system. Which actually didn't do much battling; it just went and sat by itself and looked glum and thought about nihilism.

  12. i haven't had swine flu. Not that I wanted it but the offer would have been nice.

    As far as the man in the kitchen goes, the offer would have been nice too but the ten million dollar question is, does he do the washing up after he's cooked something?

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  14. oh yeah, re: pig flu. It took mover a month and 2 courses of ammoxicillin to recover from the resulting secondary chest infection, and even now every time i get one little sniffle it goes straight to my chest. I'm now on my 2nd chest infection of the year. joy.