Thursday, November 24, 2016

Oh look, another Instagram of your culinary skills.

I cannot stop sneezing this morning. And wiping my nose so stuff doesn't run into my mouth. I'm a fucking toddler this morning.

I have stopped typing three times to blow my nose.

I'm not sick, it's just my stupid allergies and I forgot to take my drugs before bed.

Then I got distracted by an article. Today I am not good with staying on task.

I left my USB plug for Slagathor in the rental car in LA so I have been listening to my Lincoln Durham CD the last two days. Hipster mustache aside, that motherfucker is a bad man, yo.

It's Thanksgiving.

Mom did that Ancestry.com shit and learned what I told her a long time ago: we beaners are mostly Native American. America being part of the entirety of the continent rather than this particular country.

Well, how was I supposed to know?

Have you ever looked in a mirror, mom? We aren't brown and flat headed because of our hint of Eurotrash genes. 

Well, I have Italian and Spanish genes, too. 

Yep, single digit percentage. Great-great-great-great-great-great-gramma got thrown down onto a hard, flat surface and forced to carry a Castilian baby and syphillis against her will. 

You don't know that! 

Right, she's related to you so she probably was all, 'aye, poppy chulo...'

You're not right! 

But am I wrong?

Maybe now she'll finally stop hating her brown side.

I'm not a wetback, I'm Pocahontas!

You do know she was kind of a whore, right? 

Titty sprinkles!

Seriously, bad motherfucker