There are exactly 11 days until Christmas morning and I haven’t purchased a single gift. In fact, I don’t know what I’m getting anyone, which is pretty normal for me. The final week before Christmas usually involves me scrambling around trying to find meaningful gifts for people that are important to me. I know they don’t want anything from me, but I want to get them something. I can see myself circling Target like 5 times and then standing in line for an hour to buy 3 gifts. Maybe that’s an over exaggeration…
I just learned that over exaggeration isn’t actually a phrase. “If something is exaggerated, it’s already overstressed.” The phrase over exaggeration is an exaggeration of the word itself. O geez, I’m spiraling…
I feel like people exaggerate all the time. Like using the word LOL and Epic. You did not just laugh out loud at the fact that some guy walked by with a weird hat and your morning does not qualify as Epic because you found a curly fry in your regular fries. If I worked at McDonald’s, I’d throw in a curly like 8 times a day and I’d go home knowing I made 8 people a little happier. I don’t know one person who isn’t excited to get a curly fry in their regular fries.
FYI, this post has now become all about food.
Stew is awesome. It is so good on a cold night with a little bit of bread. You blow on it a couple times and it’s just hot enough to warm you up. Cool down that chicken, those carrots and whatever other vegetables are in there. Perfect temp. You take a bite and…AHHH fuck you potato! You’ve fooled me again! Why do you seem cool enough to eat on the outside, but freakin hotter than Satan’s jacuzzi on the inside. None of your other vegetable cousins are deceitful like you are, you little heat ninja. Now everyone else has to suffer because of you…
Spoiler alert. Everyone’s secret sauce is either ketchup- or mayonnaise-based.
If someone says “nothing tastes as good as skinny feels,” then they’ve never had a carne asada burrito at 2:30am after a long night of drinking.
This sentence has actually come out of my mouth: “You know we were messed up when we go to a casino called Mermaids and get 99 cent hot dogs from a guy name Sk8board.” Thank you, Vegas.
I’ve often wondered if my car will smell like Macho Man Randy Savage if I leave a Slim Jim wrapper in there all weekend. <—Over exaggeration.
Well, that went downhill in a hurry. Next week will be better…I think.
Thanks for reading.
– The Macho Potato
