Everything I Like Causes Cancer

I got a present from Whiskeymarie!

I got a present from Whiskeymarie!


(The above should be sung in an annoying sing-song cadence and in a tone of voice that implies bragging. It also has an "And yoooouu didn't!" implied at the end. There's also a dance. Ask me. I'll show you it.)






I've barely been able to contain my glee since I opened the package Friday evening after work. Up there's a picture of the adorable little Missouri sticker that was on the envelope. Isn't she somethin'? The envelope itself was STUFFED with awesome and useful goodies.

The first thing I saw when I finally got it open were the monkey band-aids. I squealed.

Little did I know I'd have use for one the very next night. It seems Monroe is an angry drunk who shouldn't be allowed near gin. We had a bit of a row when we got home from The Royale Saturday night and I finally had to put him in a box to quiet him down. During the row he bit me.


It was just a scratch, but Monroe is now banned from Subcontinentals.

I thought the next thing I pulled out was a t-shirt, until it unfurled. I truly have no idea how she knew that I've been saving my change in a big jar, collecting coins for Hot Dish Road Trip 2025. This map is a dream come true, manna from heaven if you will. The map, Minnesota: Principle Hot Dishes by Region, has been incredibly helpful with plotting my Minnesotan casserole cruise.


I'll be driving up from the southeast so should probably start eating my way across Minnesota in Rochester, home of the Jiffy Pork Pie. Ain't nothing better'n cornbread and pig mixed together, like God intended.

My next stop will be Mankato, where the hausfraus are known for their Creamed Peas and Ham. Yum! Can't wait! I also want hit a Lutheran church supper in Minneapolis because those ladies know their way around Bologna Supper and Tater Tot Hot Dish. I don't know anyone who lives in this area but I'm confident the legendary "Minnesota nice" renders reservations useless anyway.

I intend to head north after drowning my faith in bologna and tater tots, toward Brainerd where I'll sample the Hamburg Deluxe and Chipped Beef Cake. I can feel my arteries hardening as I write this. Remind me to pack the heart paddles just in case I need a jump.

Trucking down the road to the east I'll hit Duluth just in time for 6-layer Supper, a Sunday tradition, you bet. Northwest of Duluth I won't run into any more towns big enough to be on a map (at least this one) but I'll find a way to have Hawaiian Meatballs and Cheesy Scalloped Potatoes before I cross the border and head back down to Fargo.

I'm so excited to be more focused on and driven by the prospect of this trip. I'm going to hang this map in my office as a constant reminder of my savings goal. Thanks, WM! Your thoughtfulness and generosity warms my Pyrex.

The next item out of the magic bag of gifties was a fancy-schmancy chocolate bar. Yup, so fancy it had instructions on how to eat it. I followed those instructions, too, damnit. I rubbed it and I smelled it. I broke it and listened for the snap! I put a little bit on my tongue and let it melt, but the combined flavors of the chocolate and the sea salt and the hickory smoked almonds were so tantalizing that I lost myself and before I knew it, I looked like this:

I think I did it wrong.

The package also contained a funny refrigerator magnet and a pack of post-it notes. I glued a couple magnets onto the back of the pad of notes and hung it on the fridge, too.

I left myself a note on it, a list of the things I want to accomplish before I turn 40 next year.



1. Hot Dish on A Stick.


2. Lose pants while out w/Whiskeymarie.


3. Lose 10 pounds.


4. Clean the basement.



I'd sacrifice 1, 3, and 4 for 2.