I blog. About life.

Tag: food

Gotta Nom!

So I was routing around for some snaffels in the store today and I noticed that there were a lot of “party sized” snack foods sitting around. You know, the super-grando-walrus-endorsed-butter-approved sized portions. Like 2 1/2 pounds bags of candy. The problem at hand?

We all know the vast majority of these “party sized” portions aren’t serving a party…

A little sketch from my blog

But, I’ll be real with you, ‘Murica. We have a problem.

Now, don’t get me wrong I did get me some of those delectable…delicious…bits of joy and happiness wrapped in colorful unicorn paper. Not necessarily the jumbo sized, but noms enough to make me happeh… until they were gone.

My desire for the “party sized” bag of candy, all for myself. AWL MYNE!!11!!one!!    Left me wondering…  what am I becoming?

Dear friends,

Worry not, I have not passed into the realm of the underworld. Worse. I was without internet. Life without internet is a like a cookie without sugar. Pointless, bland, and sad for all parties involved. I don’t want to hear any shit about splenda, or sweet-n-crappy cookies being the same thing. It’s not, they’re not. Stop lying to yourself. Grab a stick of butter, watch some paula deen and enjoy life. ❤ Walrus

Anyway, fatassitry aside, have I told you that my roommate is a little on the strange side fucking weird? So, I went to a restaurant the other day, got a to-go box, and put in the fridge… Well, I caught him going through my box of food. Now, I know that you’re thinking: I walked in on him scrummaging through my box. Nope, friend, that is a negative. That seems like it would be the likely case, huh? Walk in, he’s digging through my food. No, that would be too average for my epic housing life. He asked me what was in my togo box. Why yes, my roommate could not figure out what was I had eaten last night so he came up to me (box in hand) and asked me what I ordered.

Okay, first of all, we are not friendly. Do not ask me about my diet. Second of all, stay the fuck out of my food. 99% of the fridge is occupied by his hoard so leave my 1% alone. Kay? Good.

Nope, none of that food is mine. I put my take-out boxes in the upper left corner…. that’s the only reason there’s an empty space there.

It doesn’t just stop there, it can’t just stop there. After I tell him that it’s a guac burger he starts to critique the restaurant that I went to (my burger still in his hand). “Their food is disgusting and you payed way too much for what you got.”

Put my food the down and gtfo.

I will cut you.

So deep.

You know it’s true.

Why, dear friends, are commercials so damn unrealistic? Portions look huge, frozen food looks scrumptious, plastic bags are easy to close, your hamburger doesn’t look like somebody sat on it…. and millions of other examples of lies.

In my exasperation towards awl those lieees I made a little cartoon. This one is about mascara. You know, that tube of black unicorn shit that’ll make anybody’s eyelashes one billion times fuller, sexier, and awesomer…

First of all you see a great commercial that makes you think wonderful things will happen to your eyelashes and all that surround them.


I.E. this mascara will make you beautiful, sexy, hott. Fulll lashes. Lose weight. PURE AWSUM!!!11!1one! Epic w1n. Something like that, right?


So naturally your (and my) dumb ass is drawn to it in the store. Price no matter. Must buy. NO SUBSTITUTES.


... and reality


Will the people making commercials just be real with me? Honestly , everybody already knows that fast food looks like something you’d find under a dumpster… but guess what? We still eat it.. And, you  wanna know why? Cause it’s delicious.  Just be real with me about the way it looks. I’m not going to try to convince you that my granny was just voted miss universe. Try not to tell me your shit looks awesome or works miracles. kthnxbai