The older I get, the more obsessed with cheese I become.
No. Not the cheese that made the state of Wisconsin great. Fromage, baby.
I should hate Enya…. but I don’t. I find it oddly soothing. I anticipate that eventually, I’ll start to crave Spam and Velveeta sammiches. With ketchup, if you please, on Wonder bread–That which never molds or decays, thank you.
Good lord.
We just added 72 square feet to our kitchen. I’m excited about this for one reason: I’ll have a place to display my metal lunch box collection. I’m thinking of buying a 1950’s-esque chrome table with flashy red vinyl chairs… the kind with little sparkles in the vinyl… just to match the keystone of my collection, my “Mickey Mouse Club” lunchbox.
I carried a Mickey Mouse Club lunchbox to my little religious school, grades two through four. In Fifth grade, I decided that a plain brown paper sack was more desirable than a metal Mickey box which slightly smelled of overripe bananas and natural peanut butter. Fate has punished me for scorning it so, as a replica cost me $45 on Ebay, and that was WITHOUT the thermos.
Damn Fate.
I spent the day trekking around town with my Mafia Grandma, going from craft show to craft show. I actually heard the words “Oh, that’s a cute use of an old tie”, referring to a paisley angel someone had made out of Uncle Earl’s Sunday strangler. As the words left my mouth, I felt the little portion of taste I’ve managed to cling to, curl up and die in agony.
I’m listening to the love theme from “St. Elmo’s Fire” as I write this.
I think it’s just my incredible sense of nostalgia which tends to sweep me up, especially when the weather turns sour. Remember, I think to myself, when times were tough and you played with your Fisher Price Castle? Remember back in seventh grade when you had to change for gym class into those nasty public school gym suits? Remember?
I want a Fisher Price Castle with all the accessories. I want to play with it and pretend I’m the Princess of Fromage. I’ll have a big giant (Donnie Osmund doll) come and threaten my Little People’s very existance and then the knight, helped by the purple dragon and possible the alligator under the moat, even though he’s only paper, he doesn’t let his two-dimensionality get him down, will save the day, and maybe the Giant Osmund will be helpful putting the flag on the turret of the castle or something, I don’t know.
I’m totally tipsy on Lambrusco right now. This probably makes no sense whatsoever. Oh well. Maybe it makes more sense than when I write on Ny-quil. You be the judge. I’m going to see if “Everyone loves Raymond” is on. Sort of like aversion therapy… if it’s not, then I’ll use a little Urkel… that eponymous bastard is on 24 hours a day.
I hate him so, that little puberty-deprived jerk.
