Everyone needs a fleet of flying monkeys to rip the stuffing out of the annoying people in their lives
— Laura


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It’s that time of year again. The time when offices all across the land plan on pot luck lunches to celebrate the birth of the sweet seven pound eight ounce baby Jesus. The list to sign up for a dish went around my office today. It seems no matter how hard you try to avoid getting that list, someone always corners you and places it directly in your hands. Kind of like a subpoena.

I generally don’t participate in these dining extravaganzas because, well, pot luck means everyone makes a dish, and let’s face it, I’ve seen how some of these ladies treat a public restroom. It’s kind of scary thinking how their own homes rate on the Board of Health scale.

A few of my co-workers were discussing what they were making and one of them asked me for suggestions on what she could bring. Here’s a list of just a few of my suggestions plus a few extras, because, well, I’m helpful like that.

1. A few cans of beenie weenies dumped into a microwave safe bowl.

2. A fried bologna platter with a side dish of mustard, and a loaf of bread arranged in a fancy fan pattern next to it.

3. Two cornish game hens. But eat a wing off one and a leg off the other on the ride into work in the morning. And don’t explain why they are missing after you place them on the table. 

4. A single Lean Cuisine meal, microwaved and placed on the table with a large serving spoon placed in it. If you are feeling really generous make that a Swanson Hungry Man dinner instead.

5. Boxed Kraft Macaroni and Cheese, cooked, then Spam chunks thrown in.

6. A Jello fruit mold. But substitute the fruit for canned corn or baked beans, heck, maybe both.

7. A cheese platter made from government cheese you received during that “hole in your resume” period.

8. Mystery salad. This will contain items from the back of your refrigerator crisper plus a few greens you found in your yard. Hey, they said they were fine on the Discovery Channel. Really.

9. Expired sandwiches given to you by the vending machine guy that you have collected, cut into small pieces and arranged in an appealing display.

10. For fancy hors d’oeuvres, cut about a half dozen Slim Jims into small bite size pieces and place a fancy toothpick in each one.

Arrange any of these dishes on plastic festive Christmasware you get from the Dollar Store. It’s those extra touches that make any dish special. 

Slim Jims

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J and I were driving down a country road this weekend when I spotted the cutest little donkey in a field with a few goats. I yelled “STOP!” and J slammed on the brakes and looked at me. I said “I want to get a picture of that cute donkey!” And smiled the sweetest smile. He rolled his eyes and pulled into a small dirt road beside the field that held the critters.


I got out of the car and started taking pictures. Then the donkey and the goats spotted me and started running over. The donkey kicked the living shit out of a few goats, but I failed to get that on film because I was too busy grimacing.


They were real interested in me mostly because they thought I had food, so I snapped a few more pics while J sat in the car and ducked down everytime a car passed, not because we were trespassing, but because of embarassment. He played it cool though, and pretended he dropped something on the floor everytime a car went by. I continued snapping pics because, well, I have no shame.


Eventually the donkey and the goats lost interest in me once they figured out I was the bearer of no gifts. I continued snapping pictures, when movement caught my eye towards the woods. That’s when I spotted them. A murderous pack flock of chickens heading straight for me.


For some reason this gave me the creeps. My first thought was that there might be a fighting rooster in there and it would spur the shit out of me. They kept coming with a determined blood thirsty look about them. I started to back up towards the car, still taking pictures.They rushed up just as I decided it was a good time to leave, because I knew the electric fence around the other livestock meant nothing to them. Hell hath no fury like a territorial chicken.

Chicken Fury

After we left I asked J if we could stop at a little country store that I saw had a ‘feed corn for sale’ sign in the window. He asked if I was thirsty as he started applying the brakes. I said no, I wanted to get some feed corn and keep it  in his car for when we spot livestock I want to take pictures of. He looked at me and accelerated. I took that as a “no”.

Donkey Chicken

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Mr. Hanky/Junior says goodbye.


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