Saturday, July 29, 2006

A CAUTIONARY TALE

Today I woke up with large breadcrumbs stuck to my legs and sheets. There was turkey in my hair. And the taste of swiss cheese and mustard on my breath.

I'm no forensic genius, but I think l had a one-night stand with a turkey sandwich. I'm not entirely sure, because I don't remember us getting together. I don't remember how the turkey sandwich even got into my bedroom. And, worse, my bed!

I'm hoping it was consensual, although I can't find the turkey sandwich to ask it. I think I said "no!" a couple of times, but it kept putting itself in my mouth anyway.

I was face-raped by a turkey sandwich.

I know what you're thinking:

Wow.

Right?

I can't imagine the kind of Google searches that are now going to lead to this entry.

Wednesday, July 26, 2006

ARE YOU GONNA EAT THAT?

I'll eat that. If you're done, I mean. Even if you're not. I will eat that. Whatever you're having, I'll have, too. Don't throw that out! I'll take care of it, PRONTO! You're full? But there's still food on your plate! Why don't you slide it over here. I'm all over that. I just hate to waste. Oh, it's cold now? No problem. I'll eat it. What are you gonna do with that extra sauce? Just leave it there?! Gimme! I've got a spoon. That's right: I'm going to sip your sauce with a spoon. Why? 'Cause it's THERE. And I hate to waste. Trust me. I will EAT that. Hold up! you're not gonna eat your crust? I'LL eat your crust! That's FOOD, not GARBAGE. Glad one of us knows the difference. No, I'm not full. I'm NEVER full. Hollow leg? Ha! Ha! Not me! See all that food on your plate? I will EAT that. Even if you won't. Ha! Ha! Why? Because I'm still hungry. Why? Because I'm ALWAYS hungry. I'm INSATIABLE! Ha! Ha! A dog would stop at this point? Is that some sort of insult? Ha! Ha! Go fuck yourself! Ha! Ha! But first: slide that plate over my way. Ha! Ha! Yes, I'm serious. Seriously serious. I will eat that.

Monday, July 24, 2006

CASUAL

I was feeling sad and I was feeling strange, and I met my friend by Union Square and she did the most wonderful thing. She had a roll, it was hers to eat, and even though she was feeling hungry, she saw me feeling sad and strange and so she did the most simple, silent, human thing: she broke the roll in half and shared it with me. "Here, eat this," she said, so I did. I wasn't hungry, she was hungry, but she fed me anyway. I had forgotten what it meant to be beautiful and safe and she reminded me.