Food worship

While the country was going to hell in a handbasket this weekend I decided to make my corner of the world a better place by making some crab soup. It freakin’ rocked. And I had a shit load left over so my freezer’s full. Now I won’t have to wait in any soup line once the next depression hits.

By the way, that’s me being all dramatical.

I got accosted by some Mormans of all things as I was entering the grocery store this weekend. They started out by asking me what religion I practiced. Now usually me saying I’m Catholic down south is enough to cause most door-to-door religious types to immediately start backstepping and apologizing for interrupting me. But this day I just felt like fucking with them so I told them I was a Pastafarian. They looked confused so I told them my god was a blob of flying spaghetti and I was going into the store to purchase some noodles since it was a day of worship. Honest to God Chef Boyardee, that’s what I told them. They just looked at me weird and continued to hand me some literature (note to self: worshipping pasta in not as shocking in the south as being a Catholic). I took it, dumped it in my grocery cart, did my shopping and checked out. As I was pushing my cart out the door the two that had previously talked to me turned around expecting a new victim person and saw it was me. I quickly grabbed my box of spaghetti (that I purposely bought for 88 cents ON SALE ), held it up and said “Praise God!” and smiled. They weren’t amused. But I was. And that’s all that matters.

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