This morning I had an epic nacho hangover. The only cure, I’ve found- is twizzler flavored water. This is how I make it: on any given day one will find 6 opened packages of twizzlers throughout my house- these might be in my purse, buried under the covers on the bed, hidden behind the sofa, etc. One never knows when a twizzler craving will strike and I can’t very well eat the whole bag... (that would produce a *twizzler* hangover the next morning- for which there is no cure) Anyway. Regardless of the fact that twizzlers are made entirely out of plastic, they tend to lose their fresh deliciousness quite fast once opened. After almost breaking a tooth on this leathery discovery, I knew I had to figure something out. Before leaving for work one morning, I plopped a handful of them in a glass of water. Upon my arrival home, not only did I find a way to revive my stale treats- I also discovered the recipe for twizzler tea! Norm is a big fan. :D
Uuuuuggghhh. I swear to god- if I’m pregnant, I’m so marching to one of his shows with the thing and plopping it down on the stage and walking away. I’d have to as #1. He has no job, no home, no phone, hell- no SHOES so I have no other way of reaching him and #2. I really don’t think he and I should have a child (drunk&dreadlocked; mom&dad) so I might as well offer it up to the reggae gods. ‘Ira! You patchouli-wearing, hippie mothafucker! You’ve bred- sarong your offspring to your hip and bring it to a goddamn festival. Maybe one of your unwashed, unshaven groupies will take care of it for you in the name of the great spirit, free love, or some other womyn mysticism.’
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Tonight I have to go to a feast at MCTC. Hopefully I won’t have to say much as my Ojibwe is embarrassingly rusty. And I suppose, after I should figure some things out. Strangely enough... I’m not *too* upset about the whole matter. A friend asked me earlier, of the 3 men in my life- if I had a choice... surprisingly I did. But that doesn’t matter now:) Still- it was nice to realize that about him. And... if he were to ask me again, seriously this time- I’d say yes.
Of course, he'd have to take my bastard in too. That would complicate things a wee bit.
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