What do Irish dudes and marshmallows have in common anyways?


This is my super secret blog.  Okay, not really.  You’re here right now.  But very secret from the folks at home.  Why?  Because I have issues with Lucky Charms.  Late at night after a week of work, I have about two bowls worth in the bag.  Which I then open and eat all the marshmallow bits. In an effort to not waste the rest (or endure exasperated looks by my husband) I give a few of the left overs to the cat.  I mean, it’s gotta be fiber or something, right?  And the little fluffball Satanspawn likes them.  This wouldn’t be so bad, but now I have the cat hooked on the multigrain bits.  She’s like a little fuzzy tweaker, looking for misshapen spades and diamonds.  (those boring bits do have shape and texture you know.  What?  You thought because I didn’t eat them all I didn’t notice?)

I would like to say that this habit is just left to the cereal aisle, but no.  Sadly, I will not eat green sweet tarts, either.  But this isn’t really about food.  I mean I have lots of random shit like this, and  nowhere to place it.  Because I am a “responsible grownup” with a university job where I have to avoid the f word and heavy sarcasm.  Not because the students might burst into tears, but because I would have to explain the joke with hand puppets and drum rolls.  (you see?  that’s sarcasm, in case you didn’t get it.)  No, not all my students are twits by any means, but the few who are probably would burst into tears.  And I know it’s not appropriate convo, but jesus, way to stifle my artistic talents.  The sheer pressure from all that goody goody politico crap can have serious consequences if not taken care of.  I’m sure it can give me cancer, just like holding in your sneezes.  I got that from a very reputable source.  You know, that one infomercial thing on that one channel.


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