Tag Archives: food

I love my town….

 

And their slightly off balance Facebook page.

 

 

 

Not off hand, no.

But I hope he finds one. Pigless is a terrible thing to be.

 

 

 

This picture of our local sheriff’s truck was posted by a resident.

Because really, who needs blue lights when you have a chicken?

 

 

 

 

This post was met with the incredulity and the scathing derision it deserved . Reveal your fiddlehead location? To a stranger!!

Mainers have been killed for less.

Fiddleheads are a precious ($15-$20 per pound) and extremely fleeting commodity in the spring. Locals protect their secret gathering spots like they do their virgin daughters. Personally I can’t stand the slimy things…

 

 

 

But Mainers go berserk for them.

And speaking of barely edible food, some well meaning townie posted this:

 

 

 

Now really, if I’m not going to eat the delicate unfurled leaves of a fern?

You can damn sure bet I’m not baking helicopter seed pods that look like bugs.

Damn.

Little known facts.

 

And once you read them you’ll realize how little you care…..

 

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I’m sure you could have gone all day with out hearing that, but since I hate nuts anyway? It strengthens my resolve that peanut butter is disgusting.

 

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Yeah.

Enjoy that sandwich now.

I dare you.

 

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I had to do a little research on this one because I grew up adoring Ted.

Sadly, he’s wasn’t always the sweet cuddly children’s author we imagined.

But I still love the Lorax, sorry Helen.

 

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Asbestos snow…

What could go wrong?

 

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True.

And quite bizarre…

 

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Well, we could all use a little more protein in our diets.

 

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People are allergic to cochineal insects?

How would they know? I didn’t even realize there was such a thing.

 

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Okay, I agree…. that really would have sucked.

And finally, because men aren’t filled with enough penile insecurities as it is.

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Sorry guys.

Penis envy is a horrible thing.

P.S. ….. When I woke up and checked WP on my phone this morning? My reader preview made me do a double take.

Damn.

The porn spammers will be back any day now.

Strange products are back.

 

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Unless it’s in a rent by the hour hot sheet motel? I don’t think anyone needs their bed to vibrate.

 

 

Just…. no.

If I’m not willing to eat kale? ( and I think we’ve established I’d rather have my toenails ripped off by a hungry wombat ) I doubt I’ll be spreading it on my face any time soon.

 

 

 

Well this is ridiculous.

Leftover chocolate. What’s that?

 

 

 

Proof positive there are a limitless number of kitchen gadgets waiting to collect dust in your cabinet.

Move over avocado hugger and ice cream ball. Spaetzle maker is in da house.

 

 

I have no idea if this works or not, but may I just say?

Eww.

 

 

 

 

When I first saw this I thought… nope, I’ll pass on the motivational self help crap.

Until I realized it could be filled with G&T’s or margaritas.

1:00pm took on a whole new meaning then.

 

It ain’t what it used to be.

 

Going out for a seafood dinner certainly has changed in recent months.

Gone are the charming restaurants with lovely oceanfront views. Gone are the meticulously crafted cocktails and professional wait staff.

These days?

 

 

It’s a long line of cars idling at the curb waiting to cue up to a traveling roach coach.

 

 

While this would normally not be the least bit appealing, I was quite sick of cooking last week and one of the husband’s friends swore this seafood was good, plentiful and reasonably priced.

 

 

From the size of the crowds you’d think the circus had come to town.

People be desperate.

We waited 20 minutes in the car parade, 10 minutes for a girl to take our order, and another 20 minutes for the food.

50 minutes without a martini?

Is not my idea of dinner out.

 

 

To say I should have known it would be bad is trite…. but oh, so true.

For slightly over $30?

 

 

I received 2 absolutely disgusting and totally inedible crab cakes…. while the husband frantically tried to find a section of fish in the foot thick batter.

Disappointing doesn’t begin to describe that rancid grease drenched mess.

Bad seafood is always bad.

But this?

 

New is not always improved.

 

You never know what the grocery store will be out of these days.

I haven’t seen flour for weeks, unless it’s made from something ghastly. At this point, dehydrated tofu/arugula flour wouldn’t surprise me.

Along with the lack of everyday items comes the strange substitutions.

Some, I can live with.

 

 

Peach and almond dish soap? Sure.

Legume pastas? Not so much.

 

 

Colorful? Yes.

Tasty? I doubt it.

 

 

Yes, these horrors are still on the shelf.

Though that shouldn’t come as a shock to anyone.

I couldn’t find my regular orange juice last trip and had to home with this.

 

 

And all I can say is the fruit might have ripened on the tree…. but the flavor leeched out on the way to the bottle. A less fruity fruit juice you’re not apt to find.

Then there was this, that the husband simply had to buy when the peanut butter shelf was empty.

 

 

Roasted watermelon seed butter.

WTF?

 

 

”  ‘In with the new’  kinda day” ?

This abomination looks like beige spackling paste and smells half as appetizing. Needless to say the other half had one sandwich and called it good.

Did I mention it was $17 a jar?

A new scent of soap made its way to the shelves and being a mango lover, I had high hopes.

 

 

Sadly there was a lot more butter than mango in this product and unless you have a sudden urge to smell like a hot bucket of movie theater popcorn? I’d steer clear.

And finally, there were Pete and Gerry’s eggs.

 

 

What happened to Ben….

Good God, is my Cherry Garcia in peril?

 

 

Gerry… go back to Ben.

Substitutions are not always acceptable.

 

Pandemic humor.

 

Because we all still need a laugh.

 

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Now that’s just rude.

 

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This looks like a great idea since I always whup the husband at gin rummy and he won’t play with me anymore.

*Note to self – borrow neighbor’s rooster*

 

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I really do miss traveling.

Even if it’s just to the next town.

 

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Indeed.

 

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Yeah.

Gwyneth  (correct spelling)  can bite me.

( Did I already post this one? Maybe… but the sentiment holds true. )

 

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Cats.

They think they know everything. It happens to be tequila.

Stuff it Mittens.

 

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Jesus… neither do I!

We’re doomed.