I Bet Pepperoni Would Make Me Shit Fire for Days

Wanna know something that sucks?  Losing the license plate to your car.  Yep, gone.  Gone somewhere across the land hopefully not being used in a bank robbery.  You wanna know what happens when you lose your license plate?  I don't know.  So, if you do, let me know.  We gotta figure out how to get a new one.  Wanna know the crappiest part about it?  It's registered in Mississippi!  Yes, Mississippi.  It's cheaper there, and to get a car registered in Texas is like figuring out calculus.  To me, not very doable.  Also, we are lazy, and it was easy.  Guessing we are regretting that now.  Dang.  That's all I can say.

I did get a sample of Boss Orange in the mail.  Oh, and a nice travel book and map of the Byways of the United States.  Guess where there aren't any?  Texas!  I guess we aren't a bywaying type of state.  We don't need any of those gosh darn byways.  We are a highway and freeway type state.  Yes, sir.  Besides, we have no license plates.  We can't go anywhere, anyway.  So, pooh on you, Byways.  We're staying home!  But we will smell good whilst we sit here!

Tomorrow is Cinco de Pie-O!  That is a truly exciting thing.  I can't wait for some pie.  I don't generally like pie.  I mean fruit pie.  Chocolate and Lemon (party) and Coconut are great. Well, sans meringue. I hate meringue.  Pecan, too.  Wait, I don't hate pecan.  That kinda sounded like I do.  You don't get thighs this dimply without loving some pecan pie.  Anyway, I hate hot fruit.  Actually, I hate fruit not in fruit form.  Applesauce is fine, but the rest of it is gross. And you people who like it are gross.  Oh, bananas cool.  But, that's not really a fruit.  If you can't eat it on diets, it ain't fruit!  Actually, bananas are 0 points on Weight Watchers now.  Hurray for that and my everlasting Weight Watchers membership.  But, I digress.  Hot fruit and fruit pies are disgusting!

But, I am not going to be eating that kind of pie.  I will be eating the other pies!  Well, any vegetarian pie.  I hear there will be some sort of chicken pot pie.  None of that for me.  You have no idea what chicken can do to a vegetarians stomach (and colon). One bite of anything containing even chicken broth can bring a vegetarian down quickly!  But,  I hear there will be pizza pie.  I like pizza pie!  Or pizza, as we normally call it.

I am making Lemon Icebox Pie.  I hope it comes out okay. It's pretty easy.  I am going for this pie that one of my step-father's used to make.  He was kind of an ass (sorry if you read this, but you kinda are). But, my lord, he could cook.  For real.  Like a real Southern woman.  I am not kidding.  He would make things, and you could figure out how cram four helpings in (of course, if you reference my dimply thigh comment, you will know that I can eat a whole lot).  So, he used to make these pies that he called cheesecakes.  They weren't cheesecakes.  They were Lemon Icebox Pies.  And, seriously, Karen Carpenter would have eaten an entire one.  That good.  So, I am going to try it.  I mean, the ingredients are so that you can't really go wrong if you just smush it all together.  So, let's hope I don't fuck up an almost unfuck upable recipe.  Man, I almost wish that guy was still around to make these incredible au gratin potatoes he used to make.  You'd gain 11lbs eating the damn things, but they were good.  Maybe even worth his asshatedness!  He had a good sense of humor, though.  You know how I appreciate that. Or you don't.  I have no idea who I am talking to.

Okay, ramble, ramble, ramble.  Other people are so good at writing short, funny, effective (or should that be affective?  Nah, I'm going effective because I am going for effect there.  Wow, inner dialogue written out.  I am sleepy, aren't I?  I didn't even realize I was doing that. What did I just say about the long, overnight shifts. Ugh!) Anyway, I go on for hours.  Lord, look at that parenthetical whatever the word is that is supposed to follow that word in that situation.  And I've got a masters in English (say that like "And you wanna be my latex salesman.")

Just so you know Gravy Masters is written across the television screen.  That totally cracked me up.  Back to what I was saying.

Oh, I was talking about rambling. I have to go or this may never stop. For real.  It might not. I have to quit before more parenthesis happen.  Agh.  Someone stop me!  Help.  I'm out of control.  Okay, rambling.

Bye