it's dark and stormy and night, all at once.
and that's when the hardest styles come out.
that's real, friends.
cold and rainy and windy weather will keep you indoors.
so what solution is there?
what's sadder than making making a fancy meal for just yourself?
oh, i don't know-
how about plating it up with the sort of professional presentation
most often reserved for impressing the ladies on date night?
i was on a stay-at-home-date, duders,
and it was with the most busted barbarian i know, y'know?
i really hate being all alone.
have i mentioned that before?
why am i force-feeding myself a steady diet of doo-doo buttery doldrums
and isolation of the highest order of hermitage?
because i choose the wrench, neighbors.
once i'm immune to the emptiest echoes of hollowed-out hearts and homes,
then i'll be even better equipped to endure a little more of this really-real life.
that's actually even sadder-sounding than it felt at first.
oh, don't worry, kids-
my solo-flight date still went well.
i sure appreciated all i did for myself,
even though i totally didn't put out for myself at the end.
i upped my dump'-making and dump'-taking skills to eleven.
check the uniformity and casual consistency of my latest technique,
rolling dough and making messes for nobody by my own dang self!
pinched tight, seamlessly,
with the pure and proper amount of filling in each and every one.
i'm pretty good at doing it without assistance or company,
i just don't really like doing it all that much, y'all.
if there isn't a partner or a posse to participate,
i'm really just rehearsing for a disconcertingly undisclosed
to-be-announced-type latter-time and latter-place.
i still did a darn good job of creating these delicious time-takers;
and once they got boiled up and pan fried,
i made sure to superstar the plate with all the appropriate trimmings:
a radial of arugala and baby kale?
toasted sesame seed sriracha?
scores of scallions?
i made it extra-special for that special someone i actually like the least.
and to be fair to truth-telling-
i ate all fifteen of them, in record time;
and the other nine were heaped heavily
atop each other in a deep bowl of grease, shark-gluttony, and self-loathing...
what can i tell you, ninjas?
i doo-doo that dump-type sh!t.
my house is a mess,
and so am i.
i've got plants and pots all over the place,
and the kitchen has got ingredients on every available countertop.
how fat do i really want to be, though?
if i turn sideways,
i'll be invisible.
disappearing, folks, slowly but surely;
never quiet, never soft.....