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Jett Superior laid this on you on || December 2, 2008 || 12:19 pm

finally, the respect I deserve up in here

Lately when Mathias wants to come hang out with me in my bedroom (which is off-limits unless one is invited in) (it occurs to me the correlation between that and vampires, don’t get me started), he will knock on the door and when acknowledged with my polite “Yes?” asks, “Permission to come aboard?”

He may be budding some sarcasm but I don’t really think so because his delivery is far too earnest. I think he’s just the ‘interesting’ and ‘unique’ kid I’ve always tried to convey to you that he is. So, “Permission granted.”

In other news, a decent (FINALLY!) barbeque joint has finally dug a trench and settled into this side of the mountain with us. Bad thing is, they sell fried pickles. Really-really-REALLY good fried pickles. Now, as you know*, even an average fried pickle is amazing. With above-par fried pickles around, I’ma have to exercise some fierce restraint, or I’ll have a generous dollop of extra thigh meat to contend with by February.

Oh, that I could’ve been born even ten percent less compulsive.

*and if you don’t, I’m terribly sorry for you

12 worked it out »

  1. cIII 12.3.2008

    Fried Pickles taste like Angel’s Tears.

    Angel’s Tears dipped in Horseradish.

  2. Coelecanth 12.4.2008

    Sometimes you’re just innocently checking sites you’ve been neglecting and you read something that you shouldn’t. Something that goes down yer brain gullet sideways leaving you agog and aghast, perhaps even akimbo. You can’t unknow it, no, it’s now a deep fried holographic memory not unlike that glimpse of your parents shagging or sight of one of your very own bones shining in daylight.

    Pickles….Fried. Fuck me. I was just coming to terms with Vegemite and now I have to deal with this.

  3. Jettomatika 12.4.2008

    Whatever, Canada.


  4. Coelecanth 12.4.2008

    Ah thanks for that. I haven’t thought of those things in 25 years, since they stopped making them in fact.

    Mind you, those were good times. A milk bladder thrown at your brother was just so much more satisfying than a water balloon. The careful testing to destruction experiments. I’m pretty sure neither tree nor roof were high enough to get it to break on the lawn but concrete and asphalt only required a good follow through.

  5. Carolyn...Online 12.5.2008

    I’m so curious about the pickles. The fried pickles… I mean the first person who decided to take the pickle and then fry it. This is who I’m curious about. Who was that person? Why did they do it? Why.

  6. mongoliangirl 12.5.2008

    I am citin’ some geist about fried pickles. I could strip down naked and rub fried pickles all over my nekkid body.

  7. Suzanne 12.5.2008

    It’s been far too long since I’ve ventured into Superior Land. Hope you are well… and WARM!

    For the record, I predict a season of SNOW for us both… and ATL never gets real snow!

  8. Jettomatika 12.5.2008

    gurrrrl, I sincerely hope it snows up to the cracks of our asses. we are far overdue.

    how you been?

  9. Suzanne 12.10.2008

    Let’s see…All is great although I’ve been crazy and busy and yet somehow not accomplishing much of ANYthing that I can account for! Where does all the time go? Despite it all, I AM trying to enjoy the Christmas season each and every day.

    I do have a question for you though: can you sit perfectly still and all-blah-blah-blah while singing? (ESPECIALLY when singing Christmas music?) I swear I just might have to light a fire under some of these folks at choir practice tonight!

  10. mongoliangirl 12.10.2008

    Hey…I’ve been trying to add you to my Google reader. Can’t make it recognize. Any ideas?

  11. Jettomatika 12.15.2008
  12. I want a fried pickle like Forrest Gump wanted to run.


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