A Dreamer’s Tale

Tell yourself, “This world needs me. I am smart and capable of so much. Nobody but me has my unique ideas. Without me, there’d be a whole universe missing out on what it is that I have to offer.”

And then go make something.

Today’s genius idea: Beefwings

I took some old chicken wing bones out of the trash, rinsed them, and mushed seasoned ground beef into them, and once they’re done in the oven, I’m gonna serve them up to friends.

As great as it is to take risks and experiment, I think it’s equally as great to share as well. You’ll find that people can be appreciative of your creations. Not always, but slightly more than never they are.

Sometimes the response is, “Have I been poisoned? Am I going to die?”

But sometimes it isn’t.

A little disclosure:

I don’t know for certain that everything is going to be fine; you should induce vomiting if you feel you should. It happens all the time. The panicky, WTF response that is.

I cannot be offended. I am willing to admit to my mistakes and learn from them. I am always looking to go forward, and that requires an honest self assessment.

After what happened last summer with the cake I baked, I discovered that I shouldn’t use collected rain water as an ingrediant. The “natural, earthy” taste that I was aiming for, turned out to be a major misjudgement.

Thank God everyone made a full recovery.

I will continue to learn and improve.

Cooking is my passion.

We Are Not The Same Pt. 1

You: “I’m gonna go to Starbucks and work on my novel while drinking a latte.”
Me: “I’m gonna go to Taco Bell and drink Mountain Dew while posting bullshit to the internet.”

You: knows the lyrics to radio pop songs.
Me: can sing any McDonald’s jingle from the early 2000s.

You: goes to restaurant and posts pictures of food to Instagram.
Me: way too paranoid to give my whereabouts.

You: goes shopping at the mall.
Me: mostly wears free t-shirts from street fairs.

You: drinks soda and feels guilty.
Me: has a soda brand identity (Mountain Dew).

You: has a personal connection with an optometrist.
Me: squints and curses.

You: licks the spoon when baking a cake.
Me: fucking eats the batter straight and never bakes a thing.

You: has a fully stocked wine rack with plenty of variety.
Me: has a cabinet full of souvenir collectors cups featuring video game and sci-fi characters.

You: avoids confrontation.
Me: sputters bullshit indescriminately.

You: knows of a great place to get “authentic Italian cuisine.”
Me: is basically family at 3 different Olive Garden locations.

You: eats with a napkin on lap.
Me: wears a mess with honor.

You: does the New York Times crossword puzzle.
Me: can usually spot at least 3 of the 6 differences from the picture below.

You: collects scented candles.
Me: can identify any fastfood chain by its smell blindfolded.

An Amazing Story Never To Be Told

If walls could talk, I’d tell them to shut up; I’m trying to hear all about the adventures of the dollar bill…

An average, ordinary dollar bill has a story more remarkable and prolific than a human being ever could, regardless of age or experience.

The dollar bill that the little child hands to the ice cream man was once also tucked into the G-string of a stripper; thrown into the donation basket at a church; used to buy a regrettable sandwich at a rest stop; used to pay a toll; used to buy an Auntie Anne’s pretzel at the mall; found in the wallet of a dead guy; used to tip a bartender; used to tip a hair dresser; used to buy a lottery ticket; used to buy cigarettes; stolen in a robbery; used to buy crack cocaine; used to pay a baby sitter; donated to a politician; used to buy a gun; used to help the homeless; used to be exchanged for quarters so that a depressed drunk could play a game of skee-ball at a bar alone one night; etc, etc, etc…

Imagine: A person receives a dollar as change at a news stand at an airport. In a matter of hours, that dollar is the across the continent in a new city, where, maybe after only a few hours of arriving there, is spent again and given to someone else who is then on their way on a trip in an entirely different direction…

And the bill keeps traveling and traveling and traveling…

I guess you can say the story of a dollar bill is note-worthy. You guys like puns?

The journey of a dollar bill is so epic and nonstop, that if it happened to a human being, it would likely push them to the point of exhaustion and cause them to have a breakdown.

The story of just about any dollar bill is one of the greatest secrets there is and it’s right there all around us.

Think about it.

God bless you and good night.

May the universe shine it’s light on you.

May your journey through life be a fraction as incredible and eventful as that of a dollar bill.

Namaste.

Peace.

One love.

Check out this shit. This is a stock photo and I don’t even know what it means. This is just a part of the story of these 4 dollars. “Yeah they rolled us up, stuck us in the dirt upside down, and then took photos of us.” People do some weird ass stuff with money.

How I Keep Life A Good Time (In A World of Unrelenting, Unforgiving Madness)

  • I give thumbs up to everyone I pass. I never miss a person. If I do I go back.
  • I extend my bathroom time and treasure the escape from all my responsibilities.
  • Although I am impressed by people who can walk down stairs on their hands, I have never tried it myself.
  • I maintain 9 different online relationships and make sure that no more than 6 of them at a time are costing me money.
  • I sign up for catalogs that way I have something to look forward to in the mail.
  • I steal other peoples mail.
  • I collect coupons and tell myself that they have real cash value.
  • I challenge children to games and never go easy.
  • I tell myself that not having children is a positive and something that I have decided on my own.
  • I jaywalk like a motherfucker.
  • I find time to drink liquor and “follow the scene” (AKA eavesdrop on conversations at bars).
  • I use the hit and run technique when involved in motor vehicle accidents.
  • I have trained myself to resist the impulse to do the Macarena every time the song comes on.
  • I won’t dine and dash, but I will pick out a meal to send back to the kitchen, that way I can dumpster dive for it later.
  • When people threaten me, I make up a name and say “that’s my lawyer.”
  • I send contraband to inmates in jail that way I am respected upon my inevitable arrival.
  • I count everyday on the outside (of jail) as a blessing.

So…

Many people’s biggest concern in life is being popular and well liked and accepted by others, but just think…

Would any of that matter if aliens came to Earth?

You can make it to the top of the social ladder amongst humans, but can you beat out an alien?

Chances are you will never be the coolest person in the universe–so why not just give up on trying?

And with that illogical, ridiculous, basically useless attempt at a pep talk, I’m sad to admit that I still don’t have the courage to eat at the Golden Corral by myself.

The Golden Corral is a bucket list item of mine, and I’m literally not capable of doing it alone.

I’m not trying to imply that people who eat alone at the Golden Corral are sad and pathetic and careless and indifferent to their own reputation…

What I’m saying is is that I am weak.

You don’t care if you enter the Golden Corral by yourself?

Bravo! But keep in mind that most people aren’t as depressed as you.

Anyways, I’ve taken the long road to get here, and you can probably guess what comes next…

Does anyone want to go to the Golden Corral with me? I don’t have what it takes to go by myself; I lack the self-confidence. I will pay for your meal. Seriously. So far after years of suggesting the Golden Corral, no one has agreed with me.

Please go with me.

I have suffered long enough.