I really, really want this year to be better than last year. Last year sucked eggs. I’m going to make this year better. Look out 2011, here comes Seer!
I’m too tired today to post proper. I’m about to go to bed. I didn’t even make my black-eye peas and collard greens yet. I did make some bomb butternut squash soup, and it was vegan. Coconut milk and coconut fat really can replace cream and unsalted butter. Whoomp! I’ll tell you all about it soon.
But last night was rough. Bird mites infested my dryer. I think some nasty sad flying rat roosted in the vent and the mites got all up in there. So I put sheets on my bed and they were mitey. Grody. Today I put a poisoned sock in the dryer for a long, long time and prayed the dryer wouldn’t catch on fire from the volatile fumes. I’m kinda nauseated from all the contact I had with poison today. Not good. I think I’ll get cancer from all the poison in this apartment. But I have PTSD from the mites. When I get goosebumps I freak the fuck out, thinking I’m about to get bit again.
So today I was too tired to do anything except go to brunch, go on an expedition to find ham shanks and smoked turkey thighs, and make the soup that I started last night.
Here’s wishing you all the best that a year can offer. I hope you get your heart’s desire. Best of luck. Heaps of love. So much wealth. Tons of fun. Utmost health. Greatest happiness. Sweet orgasms. And so much fucking candy. (I ate a pound of chocolates–See’s–in 24 hours yesterday.) What? What’d I say? Oh, come on, you’re just acting shocked because Sheila’s here. We both know I saw you looking at Steamworks site on your phone the other day.
Oh, and if you’re in a Mega Millions state, it’s $290 million today. Drawing is Tuesday. That’s totally my career goal. Lotto. I’m so wanting that shit I can taste it. It tastes like blueberry.