Orts

Here’s a quick post as a I work on a rather lengthy sequel to my Montenegrin epic.

"But...I'm thirsty".

Yeah, I ate it.

M:”Put down a layer of oatmeal and spoon a can of coconut cream over it and I guess you’ve got yourself a pie”
Me (poutily): “No, no you don’t. I thought it was fucking graham cracker crust…I love graham cracker crust”.
M:“I made mine into the shape of a piece of pie…it tastes better that way”.
Me (grudgingly):“It tastes pretty good actually…but it’s still not fucking right”.

Open Letter to Guy Using the Toaster at Cambridge this Morning

Dear Guy Using the Toaster at Cambridge this Morning,

Do you mind if I call you Asshat? No? Good. Well, Asshat, those toasters are designed to handle a pretty significant throughput of bread. The idea is that once your bread is loaded into it, others (most importantly, me) can then put their bread into it. If you put your bread into it then stand directly in front of the thing with your crotch pressed up against the tray shelf, no one else can put their fucking bread in. Then we all have to wait for your bread to be done, watch you take it out zombie-slow, drop your butter packet on the floor, bend down to pick it up like you’re in an action scene from Kung Fu, and chat to your fucking idiot friend about how clumsy you are before you finally get the fuck out of the way.

Maybe when that polite Canadian contractor said “excuse me” you could have stood back. Failing that, you could have taken the hint as he tried to reach past you with bread in hand. Instead, you stood there with that stupid ass, oblivious, newbie smile on your stupid ass face making stupid ass small talk with your stupid ass friend. Stupid ass.

Regards,

Kafoodie

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