afternoon delight

tragic
delicious

You want honest? I’ll bring you honest. No activity today and I ate a bag of Bugles. And they were delicious. I was eating an orange but it was so tragically dry and sad, I needed to make myself feel better by eating a bag of processed sodium. Don’t judge.

We drove from the mountain to the shore today–oh my god that sounds so glamorous and douchie, I’m putting a dollar in the douche jar, I swear it–and had supper at home, not to be confused with condo on the mountain.

Aw nuts. That’s another dollar.

Groom promised he would make me lunch tomorrow if I walk the dog and then maybe take another loop solo because dog is old and sick and can’t really walk that far. So, if I go home with Groom at around noon tomorrow and “get some exercise,” he will make me lunch. Seriously? (Frankly, I wanted to link an Arrested Development scene with Maeby and Michael there, but I couldn’t find it. Made me feel a little bit like this. I don’t wanna finish this stupid blog post now.)

too excited for this
and this

Tonight, after no exercise, but two hours of driving, we ate a bunch of vegetables from Blackie’s along with some leftover chowder that Groom made last night. I was supposed to make some croutons from leftover Borealis Bread, which makes me wanna get all Nicholas Cage, but I got so distracted by how excited I was for asparagus and cucumbers and tomatoes from Blackie’s, and arugula from Squire Tarbox Farm, and feta from Pineland Farms, that I burnt the wheat croutons until they looked like pumpernickel croutons.

to worry about these

They were still good though.

You know that joke, right? A bunch of cowboys are traveling out west in a giant convoy and they’re complaining about the food. And it was getting on the nerves of the lead cowboy.

So, the lead cowboy says, “Anyone complains about the food one more time, he has to be cook for the rest of the trip!”

The cook is super psyched because he’s sick of preparing meals so he gathers up a bunch of cow patties, fries them up, and serves them to the gang.

final presentation

Each cowboy takes a bite, grimacing all the while, until finally one guy shouts out, “What the hell?! This tastes like a bunch of cow sh*t!”

There is a moment of silence before the guy then says, “Tastes good though.”

See, my dad told me that joke when I was a kid. I think there’s more to it than that. Like, maybe, the next person to complain gets a hot poker up the ass or something. But, whatever. I grew up saying, “Tastes good though.”

Tonight, I also cooked up some hard-boiled eggs, which we never ate, but I’m really looking forward to busting into a certain colleague’s office to peel said eggs and stink up her whole work space.

Tomorrow is officially going to be hilarious.

Sarah Devlin

About Sarah Devlin

Sarah Devlin has been writing about the recreational industry since the late ’90s but ironically can’t run, swim, or bike a mile.