He handed her the slow cooker and said, Do you want this I have to move, and he was putting it into her hands before she’d even given her response. His name was Crispy. When he’d first introduced himself a year before, she’d been carrying her old end table—the one with the three wobbling legs—up the stairs to their then-new second floor apartment, she’d heard “Crusty” and repeated it back to him. But he’d been adamant, Crispy, he’d said but this time with an extra puff of breath behind the beginning of the second syllable.
Dear disappointed eight-year-old on Christmas morning, Continue reading
You always wanted to know: So, what happens when you eat fourteen corn dogs?
First off, you win. Even if the dude next to you–who only ate nine corn dogs–is declared the “official” winner of the contest because of some lame technicality, because beers count as points. I mean, you just downed over 2600 calories of sweet spongy goodness slathered in two cups of condiment slime as coolly as if you’d been nibbling the corner of some cucumber sandwich at a tea party. WINNER!! Way to make them wish they had blabes as stout and sturdy as yours. Continue reading