frozen solid.

ice inside my window?
F* this day so hard.
yup.
apparently,
a low-sloping roofline,
exactly one above-freezing day,
and three feet of snow melting just a little,
and then immediately turning to ice at the ends of the eaves
makes for a really sh!tty morning.
mmmhmmm.
neighbors,
waking up alone in the Folk Life & Liberty Fortress is a cold prospect
on even the sunniest summer day,
but on a blaringly blustery windswept slap across the wintertime
with icicle on my indoor parts?
oh MAN.
that's not cool, at ALL.
so,
at six thirty a.m. i was a-hammerin' my thorlike fury out in battle-beats bursts
on shards of shattering ice fully a foot thick.
expert?
kinda.
i mean,
i smashed,
and i bashed,
and i crashed across the roof like an icebreakin' berserker barbarian.
huh?
i like to bash stuff.
duh.
and sure, i got stabbed by shrapnel;
i got ice-melt in my mouth
(i'm pretty sure that's poisonous, but in the frozen face of this house collapsing,
i was definitely ok with it being my last meal)
and i froze all my bits and pieces into smaller less useful bits and pieces.
on top of my kids leaving, that was exactly the right amount of lame bullsh!t
to deal with before breakfast.
i love having a good reason to flip out and exorcise my hurt feelings.
seriously.
beats bottling it up for an undetermined threshold of surprise explosive temper, no?
word up.
*
anyway,
i ate too much, again, yesterday.
i always do when i'm feeling the separation sickness
after my girls go back to their 'real' home.
it eats a bag of crap, basically,
and then so do i.
ew.
anyway,
check this out:

and this:

what do they have in common?
duh.
they're both ugly, and all wrapped up,
but pretty damned dope on the inside.
get it?
c'mon.
rules is rules,
and you know i love that stuff.
stay ugly, stay dope,
and make sure you overdo it, too,
because too much is the right amount.
y'know?
i dunno, man.
this last week was faster than i'd have liked.
i'm not in a hurry to pass time,
but i am in a hurry to move on.
it's not easy,
but what ever even really is?
hard styles;
cold nights;
ice dams;
hot damns;
and missing pieces...
it's all really happening,
that's the whole point;
never quiet, never soft.....

i might always hate goodbyes.

yeah.
i might really truly always actually hate saying goodbye.
it gives me an unfinished feeling in my chest.
and today is another 'nother goodbye day.
i've got about five or so hours of road warrior roundtrippin'
before i go to work and do some tattbombin'...
and at the crux of that unavoidable oval recirculation
of time and money, spirit and memory, bitter and sweetness,
there's a great big fat dumb bye-bye hand-off.
ew.
now,
i've got these two girls of mine,
and i think they're pretty rad kids.
the only problem is, there's never enough time together with them.
and this extra-short span of wintry vacationing is no exception whatsoever.
cut short,
snowed-in,
and already over.
ugh.
harvest and maple are getting taken to the heart of the weak-sauce,
and handed over for heading back down to the doo-doo butter of their homeland.
yep.
today is the day, and it's a bad-vibin' one, already.
awwwwww, man.
i HATE goodbyes, guys.
oh, sure, on the brightish side,
there are hours and hours of car-ridin' big fun,
good talks, pit stops,
and traffic attacks to get through first,
but,
it's still all gonna be over and out by this afternoon.
and that's pure sh!t.
i'm trying to instill these virtuous viking values in these daughters i've got,
and that requires time.
to that end, i'd like a lot more,
and more often.
however,
i AM grateful for the time i have been given.
fun vacation dad is hardly title i'd have chosen for myself, neighbors.
and i'm guessing it's the last honorific you'd bestow on me, as well...
it's pretty weird, considering how much fun i'm normally not.
i guess it really does depend on how you make it, and with who.
for example-
last night we needed a special send-off fond-farewell suppertime spectacular.
and even though we got some sub-sensational sorta-suck pizza pies for lunch,
we made our own extra-expert Folk Life pizza party deluxe when we got home.
yeah!!
the oven took forever and ever to activate the required level of hottness,
but we took that time, together, to laugh at each other,
laud our individual small awesomes,
lament our uniquely weird F*ing faces,
and laugh some more, at ourselves, our friends, and everything else, too.
mmmhmmm.
and also,
that gave me a walloping wide window of ingredient prep time to activate.
friends,
we'll all be sad potatoes later,
but when pizza is on the menu,
we're too busy being dope.
check the teleport:

c'mon!
underchee' on a sourdough crust,
with simple-as-heck-sauce, daiya vegan-chee' melties,
little tofurky dawg discs,
and darlin' cute baby broccolini florets.
yummmmmmmmm.
and that was just one of three.
yep.
two more, for me and mine to devour like wild animals.
there's an eleven minute window between pizzas,
eight to eat it up,
and three to make the next one.
it's a system that works,
and we know what to do when there's a tasty still-steamin' saucy circle
sittin' pretty right before our faces.
you know it, buddy.
we beat up this one in record time-
i had a whole extra minute to make another afterwards, even.
boom.
check the teleport:

pee eye zee zee ayyyyy.
trader joe has himself some dang lovely savory baked tofu.
that's what's so prominently featured atop this very red ring of awesome.
no foolin',
it was so smoooooooooooth, we pretty much sucked it right down
in the bare minimum of bites.
that underchee' is the TRUTH, too, btw.
for serious.
and then,
we saved the most beautiful and the biggest for the grand finale.
uh-huh.
the object was more,
and this identifiably awesome object filled the role with flair.
teleport:

yeah!
too much is the right amount.
brussels sprouts make us scream and shout,
and caramelized onions are good for you, in a sugary slippery snakey kind of way.
if you're gonna have a pizza party,
and it's gonna take a while to get everything ready,
you're gonna need a three-pizza entry fee.
that's a thing.
we do what we do,
and that includes an abiding love of food.
my girls aren't vegans,
but they aren't diaper-baby buttheads, either.
they're vegan-friendly,
and they love to create in this Folk Life & Liberty kitchen.
maybe it's just for my benefit,
but the time we're spanning benefits ALL of us.
it's over already,
too soon, and not enough.
i hate goodbyes more than i love pizza,
and that's saying something;
never quiet, never soft.....

twenty seven oh one

i love when the weather report offers you some feelings.
y'know what i mean?
yeah, man....feelings.
the forecast says its negative 18 degrees fahrenheit outside,
but,
it feels like negative 35.
so, now we're catchin' feels over here?
c'mon.
catchin' frostbite, maybe.
what do you know about minus thirty five degrees??!!
i'll tell you what i know, neighbors-
that's some irregular A*-hole-flavored bullsh!t.
and that is the fault of the wind.
ew.
the wind is the biggest jerk in the group,
and i'm steady stay-hatin' on it, for effing up
my wintertime family-style staycation.
awwwww, MAN.
there's so much 'sgusting, and just in the ambient air around us.
i know.
i know.
february is the worst.
it's just that i don't think anyone was challenging that title,
so i'm not sure why the whole month has been flexin' it's doo-doo buttermakers
as hard, as often, and as consistently terrible as it has.
that's just poor sportsmanship, no?
you're already winning, nature, so don't be a jerk about it.
dang.
that's real.
*
i guess i'll have to console myself with cookies.
uh-huh.
cookies.
like,
gluten-free coconut macaroon snowballs.
what are those?
they're delicious, and they're treats...
what else do they even need to be?
yup.
check the impending-snow-day-type teleport:

anything can happen,
and anything includes cookies, kids.
coconut flour, coconut sugar, coconut flakes.
that's that winter-lookin' stuff that snow bunnies
and photographers love the most.
mmmhmmm.
is that icy winter-white icing?
you bet your b-hole it is,
with those macaroon-fine flakes frosting it so soft and sweetly, too.
they melt in your mouth, like snow,
but without all the brain freeze and wet gloves of real snow.
duders,
i like little cute treats,
and i like coconut,
and i LOVE having the oven on in the kitchen.
(negative degrees aren't invited, man)
i'm loading up on calories, like a late-to-the-season polar bear.
i mean it.
i've been shivering myself slimmer,
and if the weather stays like this until april,
i'll have worn myself skeletal with shaky behavior under sweat-lodge layers.
gross.
***********
the hardest part about letting my kids have a girls'-night?
i missed 'em.
oh sure, that's some sentimental sap oozing out right there-
but,
it's the truth.
knowing that they're becoming their own future selves,
and that they're pursuing relationships with women
outside of my sphere of influence
and under the auspices of throwback family-style togetherness
is a timespan spanking that's tough to temper with good temper.
ummmm, yeah...
these girls of mine have their own views and opinions of the folks
who care about them, and i guess i'm s'posed to swallow a lot of personal opinions
in favor of their good cheer and good will and good times.
yikes.
to that end,
they hung out with their exed-out stepped-off step-mom,
and i had dumplings at home instead.
huh?
yeah.
that's allowed.
no, not dumplings.
those aren't just allowed, their mandatory...
i'm talking about hangs with my ex-wife.
i mean, not for nothin',
but they hang with their ma allllll the time,
and she and i have even less in common.
ha!
that's just it-
telling your kids to feel the way you want them too is a sure-fire way
to guarantee that they won't.
or worse,
they will,
and all that tells you is that they are easily manipulated and possibly dumb.
...that's not cool.
this isn't the weather report, friends,
c'mon.
even when it feels like negative a-million,
i bet it's probably a positive in the long-term prevailing patterns.
there's no point in prohibiting the presence of people who care about these kids.
so,
they had their time,
i had those dumps.....on my face.
teleport:

kaboomfire.
it's all really happening.
swallowing dumplings and wallowing in winter's cold clutches.
no big deal.
true stories, told truly,
and too much of all the hard styles, sore spots, cold spells, nasty spills,
and every other other sort of minor misfortune.
it's inconvenience, or it's nothing.
i think that must be a clause in my contract or something;
never quiet, never soft.....

coffee cup coffee cake

treats!!
me and my dude,
my ace homeboy,
my ultimo expert hombre,
the cucch, collaborated on some elite treat jauns for our faces.
yup.
that's no joke.
when i've got extra hands on deck,
in the test kitchen of this Folk Life & Liberty Fortress,
i make good use of 'em.
he creamed the butter and the sugar,
he mixed in the soy yogurt and the sour creamy stuffs,
he sifted the salt and poured the vanilla,
and he stirred in all the flour.
mmmhmmmm.
it was fun.
calling out ingredients and quantities on the fly,
and having a competent and capable cook keeping it real alongside me.
boom.
that's how taste explosions get poppin', neighbors.
no jokes.
and once we sprayed down some middle-sized muffin tins,
and he portioned the proper plops of battery business in?
we baked it up.
obvi.
c'mon.
that's how it works, guys.
don't be dumb.
.....aaaaaanyway,
once they were all cooled off from that heavy metal hotbox,
i cinnamon'd and sugared a whole lot of creamchee' and butterish butts.
i did.
and i whipped it up into a super-elite and extra-sexy swirl
on each and every last one of 'em
check the teleport:

right?
little grandma-style coffeecake cupcakes!
i'm tellin' you guys-
they have all that breakfasty taste,
but with enough sweet sugary activation to hold their own all day long.
crisp outer edges, soft, dense, moist crumbs on the inside,
and both-bites'-worth elevated and elucidated
by that cinnamon sugar goobieblop on top.
that's how it's done.
***********
however,
breakfast isn't always cups and cakes, kids.
sometimes,
it's pans and cakes, instead.
this morning,
i experimented with a little double-butter batter,
and a little macaroon coconut.
it traps the air in there, and makes the cakes double fluffed for fuller effect.
i mean it.
go ahead,
check the teleport:

'bout to EXTERMINATE that short stack.
yup, and yum.
i've got explosions of excellence,
flipped off on that griddle jauns,
i measured not one thing, just pinches and punches,
sprinkles and glugs,
and other imprecise portions and proportions.
i doo-doo it like that, just so you know it's really not a joke, jerks.
i use my eyes, and i use my own weird brainmaths, too.
huh?
so i use strawberries?
dudes, c'mon with the silly sh!t.
those are clearly straw-style berries up on top.
mmmmmmmm.
pow-pow-powdered sugar simple syrupy fruits are expert.
and so is real maple syrup.
and so is breakfast time in the woodsly goodness.
we're into it,
and we appreciate it.
well,
maybe my girls are grateful,
but i'm a bit busy making all the magic happen.
i'll give praise and thanks once i'm finished with the dishes.
real talk.
***********
twenty-seven hundred.
that's how many times i've sat down and typed up one of these.
they say blog is a deceased medium.
i think that might even be a thing.
all my favorite bloggers are now ex-bloggers,
and i seriously contemplate cutting this little ritual out of my daily routine.
i do.
but,
i do what i do, and this is part of it.
ugh.
the biggest problem with always wanting more?
there's no room for anything less.
i guess 2701 will show up sometime tomorrow, then.
you're welcome, or i'm sorry, or both.
this is it.
too much is right amount,
and the sinking ship of dear-dumb-diary-style social media hasn't hit bottom yet.
i suppose i'm run aground,
and staying on my grind.
there just aren't enough pancakes to placate that kind of faltering ebb and flow.
dang.
i'm shoveling shoals, and sh!t,
and the tidal waves of unsuppressible inevitability wash it all back to sea level.
oh, don't worry,
it isn't going to end anytime soon;
never quiet, never soft.....

dumps on your face.

it's been a little minute, neighbors.
y'know?
yeah.
like,
i've been sittin' on all that plump dumpy dumplin' science,
and i was letting it fade away.
that's not cool.
dumps are the dopeness.
and the thing of it is,
it was a china-style lunatic new year,
all chappy goats and rammin' rams-
and my daughters are around,
and it's so flippin' cold all day and night that we need extra nutrients
just to keep from fading away into transparent steam ghosts in this
somewhat-windy-on-the-inside Folk Life & Liberty Fortress.
yikes!!
that's a lot going on, all at once-
and when it's all really happening that hard,
and the hardest styles are even harder, because they're frozen solid?
mmmhmmm.
we NEED dumplings.
and, really, when we see a need, we fill it.
that's the Folk Life family togetherness sh!t that really matters.
recognize.
also,
check the teleport:

dumps.
on your face.
custom soyfire dippin' sauce,
with ginger and pepper and rice wine vinegar,
a little sugar, and sesame oil?
c'mon.
my fat little purses of activation have got it goin' ON, guys.
that's real.
a bit of radish, a bite of dumpling, a drop of sauce,
and you're having a new year's party before you finish chewing.
that's expert.
the only real drawback to all that pinchy pouchy paunchy pocket party time?
those F*ers take forever to make.
seriously.
mini minced carrots and celery and mung bean threads, and cabbage,
and smooshed-up tofu, and so much onion and garlic,
before the g.p.o.p. and sesame oil, and the tamari,
and the ginger and mustard, and the rice wine deglaze haze for days.
duders,
it's an awful lot of effort,
but it's totally worth it, onve they're sittin' pretty on a plate.
the time involved leading up to the big reward is just such a laggin' drag, though.
and that's considering that i made the fill-in filling mix in the morning!
the simple dough was the result of a quick drip and knead when i got home.
that's the easiest part, really-
water, flour, salt, and a bit of stirring...
then it's roll-roll-roll-your-dough, gently at the seams.
merrily, verily a lot of glass and circles and stacking ensue after that.
i'm just sayin'.
y'make that filling,
then, there's the rolling out of all that well-rested warm-water dough;
then you gotta pack those circles,
and pinch the edges, so it's crimped on top, and flat on the butt,
and then you go right on ahead and rest 'em all over again......
and then heat up your oil and layer those flavor grenades right in there extra close.....
and when they start to sizzle, all pop and crackle and snap?
splash 'em with water, cover 'em, and let the steam absorb into their skins.
jeeeez.
then, and only then,
have you finally got all that heavenly hottness by the lack of light of the new moon,.
damn.
the things i do to make a moment with my kids.
they just ate them, hungrily, happily, impatiently,
after a lot of laughs in the kitchen while i worked,
and they watched,
and we talked,
and time passed.
we span it, the time-
expansive, expensive, intensive, hypersensitive, all of that.
it's all really happening,
and when we're together,
it's the best part;
never quiet, never soft.....

rabbitrabbit.

happy chinese lunar new year, duders!
rams, goats, and horned fauns and satyrs, too, probably.
it's a new year (sorta),
and just to be safe,
i said what needed sayin'.
yup.
rabbit rabbit.
magic words for the chappiest goats and rammiest rams.
so weird, but also so necessary.
and also,
i made treats.
that's the thing that mattered even more.
after all,
treats are what we're all really here for, anyway.
check the teleport:

uh-huh.
c'mon, now, neighbors.
you see the depth and strength on those jauns?
i know you do.
you into those stacks on stacks on stacks?
imperial biscuits, in triple decked full effect.
word up.
you 'bout that, or not?
hell yeah!!
that's correct.
you gotta be on that futuristic business, or what is even the point of you?
british empire biscuits are pretty neat,
but these are barbarian empires, y'all.
a whole bar of chocolaty truffle, ground down into shavey slivers,
and folded into the sugary cookie dough, extra gentle, so they stayed solid.
that's careful creation, kids, and it's worth it.
sure,
that makes 'em look a little bit banana-y,
but it's F*ing chocolate bar shards, sucker!
ha.
i'm trickin' your face, and treating your tastes, because that's what i DO.
yup.
the cookie portion is crisp,
but that creamy dream in-between is the TRUTH.
mmmhmmm.
a little cream chee',
a little buttery butts,
a lotta cocoa,
and tons of whippin' whisky whirlwind activation.
that makes it so smooth, and creamy, and soft.
expert.
and that little top ghost circle of cookie baby cuteness?
they're new year cookies, man, so they need a baby new year moon.
duh.
i'm not reppin' that mincey nancypants sh!t.
no way.
***********
ways and means.
yup.
that's what's on my mind this morning.
i got myself a few ways of doing things that work,
but i don't have the means to break away from where and what i'm doing.
confusing?
tell me about it.
there's a certain amount of efficient proficiency that is appreciated,
but after that,
it's expected, overlooked, and often taken for granted.
that's a very hard style.
y'know?
for example-
i bring in the treats i make to the studio.
i'm not trying to be a fat F* and eat 'em all myself,
and i know that my clients are all about that confectionary excellence.
my largely undeserving co-workers can have some, too,
as a gesture of conciliatory kindness from me to them.
provided they ask first, though.
right?
i mean, before you assume it's all here just for you.
ew.
that's a principle that should be observed anyway.
and then a thank you would be nice.
that's called having manners,
-
mostly, though,
these one-way-streeters i'm spanning time alongside do the opposite.
helping themselves, or worse,
offering these little masterpieces to their clients and friends,
and claiming gratitude, and exhibiting generosity and viking virture,
by proxy, through false efforts and absent skills.
guys,
i am so serious when i say i SO can't hang out with that.
i do get it, in a way.
i'm not dumb, y'know?
nobody else ever makes treats or brings in anything....
because why try at all,
let alone try any harder,
to contribute and actively participate,
when the rewards of spectator wallflowering are so delicious and numerous.
i guess the message hasn't reached them yet.
yep.
that message:
just be dope, or F* right off.
really.
i'm ready for the next big effort,
the logical ensuing push of hottness,
the more and bigger and better something else.
y'ever get to that point?
i've been ready to cut loose from the source of much of my anger and anxiety,
the unbalanced ballast that holds me down and holds me back.
where i live is fantastic,
where i work is not.
i have the ways,
i lack the means.
unless of course, you mean, the means, as in the not-nice.
i've got plenty of that these days.
this here is a true story, friends.
they all are.
lunar new year?
same as the old year;
never quiet, never soft.....

famished for fam'wiches.

hey there, neighbors!
it's yet another 'nother snow day up here nestled in among
the blissfully brutal now-you-know-why-they-call-'em white mountains.
mmhmm.
that's pretty lame, all things considered.
i mean, sure-
harvest and maple, my still-a'sleepyheaded teen daughters like it....
...but they aren't gonna shovel a flippin' flake, so why wouldn't they?
i'm not being a babycake, here, either, guys.
i'm not opposed to the natural weather pattern for this part of the year, either.
shoveling, shivering, snot-drippin' chapeed-lippin' ice-slippin' is part
of the woodsly goodfellowship of worthy warrior poetry.
they simply don't have that in permamently-pleasant places, and that's no joke.
the thing of it is,
while february is predictably a crap month,
this particular arctic blast cut my super-secret extra-special visit short by a full night.
huh?
oh.
well,
my very best buddy, now a utard, (or whatever utah folks are called)
is back on the east coast doin' some work for a very limited time-
and he commandeered a vehicle specifically for a jaunt up to these icy peaks,
to visit his peoples in these hills.
yeah!
the cucch was here...
...and then he wasn't.
all thanks  to the buckets of stoopid snow that effed up the evening.
awwwwwww, man.
still,
me and the girls got to visit with my numero uno hombre for an afternoon,
and make treats,
and eat treats,
and talk sh!t,
and get rad,
and terrorize some hello/goodbye sandwiches.
yep.
family dinner was between baguette, b!tches.
and it was expert.
check the fam'wich-type teleport:

mmmmmmmhmmmmm.
don't even act like you're not about that boomfire, bro.
hahaha.
not-so-chickeny beige strips of pea protein,
seasoned and smoked and sweetened a scooch,
a pan-toasted heavy-duty mouth-slicin' demi-baguette,
apples and onions, caramelized, for a blended flavorful bite,
and with a few crawnchy jauns in there, too.
pickle staxxx, for sharpness,
whole grain dijon mustard shmears, to counterbalance those pickles,
and a slaw to activate your whole entire jaw, y'all.
flat leaf parsley, napa cabbage, celery and radishes?
yup.
crawnch, spicy bite-back, flavor, coolness, hottness, and everything nice.
i don't know how YOU get down with dinner,
but family togetherness calls for some big action around here.
we doo-doo that sit-down-shut-up-and-eat-style sh!t.
yep.
and we do it as hard as we can.
*
the Folk Life & Liberty Fortress was abuzz yesterday.
waffles in the morning,
sandwiches in the evening,
treats of all sorts in-between,
and peoples coming together to make it all matter and mean something.
i love that.
and i'm grateful for the time i have been given;
never quiet, never soft..... 

waffle wednesday.

yesterday had allllll the traffic.
mmmhmmm.
that's real.
from late morning until early evening,
driving and driving and driving.
and by that, i mean mostly driving very slowly.
yep.
that was some big fun, too,
steady creepin',
and more than making forward progress,
i made myself furious for a few extra hours.
who doesn't love a long drive, made longer by 'fraidy cats
and crap-holes cruising cautiously back to their unholy holes
in the suburbs of boston.
yikes.
heading south in the icy air,
behind miles and miles of supersized snailcrawlers.
that's what i get, when i gotta get a couple girls for a short visit
to the wonderfully wintry wild-windswept woodsly goodness.
yup.
an arctic blastin' berserker brouhaha, beginning with a too-long road trip.
the thing is,
i've got harvest and maple now,
and we're doing some family togetherness sh!t as hard as we can.
we only get a short stay this february,
so we've gotta get all the good stuff stuffed into a small space.
that means starting the day off right.
check the teleport:

boom.
it's waffle wednesday.
that's a thing.
coconut, coconut flour, oatmeal, butter, brown sugar,
and expert activation.
plus,
we wanted to bring a bit extra to the breakfast party.
mmhmm.
...and we did just that.
well, actually,
amber brought the strawberries and bananas.
but we ate the holy heck outta them all.
wordimus prime.
powdered sugar on the berries.
sliced up 'nanas.
and pecans.
yep.
that's no joke.
heated up, buttered down, and sugared with vanilla an' that.
real maple syrup?
obvi.
we aren't a bunch of F*ing A*-holes, man.
take it easy.
***********
the brightest spot in my yesterday?
i mean, the other bright spot,
besides these daughters of mine?
chipotle.
YEAH!
so much food, in one deviously dope diaper.
neighbors,
as usual, i got allllll those vegan jauns.
teleport:

ew, and yum,
and also, ew.
i'm a fat pig, and i hate myself.
also,
i love food, and i'm learning to live with the loathing.
hahahaha.
psych!
duders,
i actually just want to eat all the food of ever and ever,
FORever and ever.
that's the truth.
so,
it's all mostly still a food story.
but at least it's a true story.
that's it;
never quiet, never soft.....

blown apart.

stretching that thin crust jauns?
we do what we do, duders.
yep.
and i doo-doo that pizza sh!t.
on a blistery blustery busted and disgusting sunday night?
that might be the only thing holding back a tsunami of berserker fury,
railing to no avail against nature's permanently upper hand..
that's right.
i can't hang out with lame pizzas,
and i really can't hang out with the wind.
you know that, already, if you know me at all.
i HATE the wind.
like,
actual hate, all the time.
for really real?
last night, was power-outage chapped-skin iceburn barbaric,
and it sucked alllll the balls in the whole world,
in the colder darker depths of indoor living.
all thanks to the wind whippin' it out and slappin' it around.
ew.
so,
by the time i was at home,
removed from the stinkbombs and stoopidheads,
safely ensconced away from all the vacation snowbunnies,
and the wailing banshee b!tchbaggery of the great outdoor windtunnel,
i had an especially hard heart, a worse-than-usual attitude,
and some remarkably unhappy bones,
(the cold chilled right to the marrow of 'em)
so i desperately needed a little latter-day valentiny reactivation,
i know it was twenty four hours behind schedule.
but better late than never ever- no?
ha.
in this instance- yes.
mmmhmmm.
and that meant a pizza party for my face.
tossin' that sourdough, neighbors, to suit my sour mood,
and baking it up on that scorching-hot oven stone
saved the remains of an otherwise lost-cause sunday.
whew.
thank heavens for that pizza pie.
check the pee-eye-zee-zee-ayy-type teleport:

wordimus prime.
a margherita heart, because that's a cute way to start.
italian flaggotry-
red tomatoes;
white tofu triangles, seasoned-up and fried a baby bit
(mozzarella isn't invited, and the daiya isn't for everything);
and big fresh green basil leaves.
plus that sauce, and obviously, the underchee'.
if your vegan pizza ain't steady reppin' underchee'?
that's dumb,
and you are probably a giant A*-hole
who doesn't know rinotta from terra cotta.
.....kaBOOMfire.
underchee' is the truth, friends.
and it activated one instantly expert super-supper, right down the hatch.
but one small pizza isn't a party.
that's why we fired up another one.
teleport:

heavy on the everything, please.
a thick level of underchee',
an even thicker plateau of pesto-
and it's had a little minute to marry all of it's flavors together,
so that the basil loves the scallions, and the nootch loves the cashews,
and the garlic and the olive oil are overseeing the whole orgy,
and it is a steamy succulent parts-on-parts-on-parts explosion at that.
plus,
it has a hearty punch of that daiya('rrhea) stretchy chee' on top,
just to keep it all under cover....
and nootch-kissed tomatoes, to take it one tastier.
mmhmmm.
this goes to eleven.
now we're having a pizza party.
but,
that's not enough is it?
it never is.
too much is the right amount.
that means a grand finale banger to close out the batch.
what happens when there's more dough?
double-dough, yo, y'know?
yeah.
that's it.
check the teleport:

pizza is good for you.
underchee', sauce, daiya...
that's the entry level stack'em-up.
but that's not then end of the story-
once we established the foundation,
we added on a rasher of bacon-style strips,
and caramelized red onions and leeks!!!!!
friends,
this big action is better than wind isn't.
that's no joke.
i LOVE pizza like i HATE wind.
***********
there is a lot going on...
valentine's treats (i got alll the stumps)

and food (i'm fat now?)
and wind (F*ing worst)
and pizza (F*ing best)
and work (pretty much the same as wind)
mmhmm.
vacation week weakness is a real motherF*er.
this is all there is,
until next monday,
so get ready for more of all of this;
never quiet, never soft.....

lookin' it, not feelin' it.

i got dressed up.
no.
i didn't get all fancified and gussied,
but i did put on my fresh-to-death colors,
and that, coupled with those cupcakes, kids?
i'm sayin',
i was eleven kinds of ready for a righteous snow day.
that's the truth.
instead,
it turned out to be a gelid, gelatinous glob of ungregarious garrulousness.
mmmhmm.
i said a lot of sh!t,
and none of it was any good.
damn.
that's a hard style for heart day.
i blame the doo-doo buttery humbugs who were hatin' on the holiday spirit.
anyway,
i had my head-to-toe reds and pinks on point,
and i'm pretty sure i looked precise,
the thing of it is- i felt inaccurate.
teleport:

aww.
womp womp.
a beat-up bathroom selfie jauns,
closing out a day filled with disappointment.
what?
oh.
i'm talking about a whole day being disappointing in almost every way.
(the cupcakes were preposterously expert)
no, it's cool, really-
i heard yesterday that people who complain live longer and are happier overall.
so get ready, because if you thought i was a real downer before?
i'm preppin' to get my flame-spit flying even hotter and farther...
yeah.
that's right.
i'm probably gonna live forever.
i suffered through a sh!t-salad saturday of stormswept savages,
driving out for matching tattoos.
i'm serious.
that was my thing.
all damned day.
no jokes.
apparently,
if you smell like bologna, and you're SOOO F*ing in love
with a similarly-scented cold cut of a human,
you match 'em up, and make my day a smear of skidmarkin' magic.
ew!
so gross.
***********
oh, yeah......
also,
i made some valentine art.
yep.
check the teleport:

barbarian love.
bald underbitin' orcs and their angry lovin'?
i'm about that life, for sure.
so that's that.
*
eloquence?
not today.
loquacity?
no thanks.
tattbombin' crap-slaps all day?
that's a foregone conclusion.
cold, old, and busted?
today is the day;
never quiet, never soft.....

valentine's day.

yeah!!!
happy valentine's day!!!
hey. you.
yep.
you.
you're cute.
and i made these for you:

that's right.
i've got that kaBOOMfire, sweetie!
red velvet soft cocoa-fudgy-battered bombs.
all kinds of mauve-y crumb in 'em,
and a lot of buttery, sugary, luscious flavor, too.
that's expert.
white-chocolate-(vegan)-space-egg cream-chee' frosting,
in dual valentine's day color scheme blops?
yep.
swirls and swoops and scoops,
plus,
three different kinds of sprankles!
mmmhmmmm.
candy dots and hearts and sparkles and dashes,
(that sounds like four, but the hearts and dashes were mixed together)
making a text-message morse code sugarshock spell,
cast in cocoa and carnauba wax for your tongue to twist up,
and decipher in four bites or less.
woooooooord.
plus,
i tippity-topped 'em all with a sugar cookie cutout.
c'mon, duders, that's cute as F*.
a conversation-heart-sized little shortbread treat,
just to take it a little teeny tiny bit over the limits of regular choliday hottness,
and activate an eleven-level rating.
that's correct.
these aren't just cupcakes, neighbors.
they're love letters,
encrypted in pink and white and red,
with light and dark chocolate codebreakers working concurrently
just to let you know i'm displaying affection,
the best way i know how.
awww.
***********
go do something romantic, guys.
i mean it.
before i get it poppin' on the hearts and lace jauns,
i'm going to slide down a slippery slope.
huh?
no.
not like a gateway to questionable behaviors.
i am literally going to careen down the hill i call home,
and then i'm gonna climb another 'nother other slippery slope
when i get to the worst workplace access/egress in the area.
ew!
and once i'm there, if things go the way they're scheduled to?
it's matching crap-tats on crap-hats all day long,
provided the blustery ice of this artfully arctic avalanche
that the clouds have launched doesn't scare away all the clients.
i suppose if nobody shows, that really just means more treats for me.
.....i can live with that.
kisses and hugs,
X's and O's,
all of that.
today is the day.
i'll bring the cupcakes,
you bring the shovel,
and we'll dig in to the piles of treats and the piles of snow,
together.
awwwwwwwwwwwww;
never quiet, never soft.....