Dreadlock Fallout (2670-2683)

I don’t know about those CPAs. They are SERIOUSLY CRAY!

Yesterday I told you about how their inter-office gross-out contest escalated to Pamcakes acquiring a contraband dreadlock from yours truly. It’s been a long 48 hours to wait for the payoff, but it finally came today.


Good morning Joe! How about a nice, steaming, dreadlock to start your day?

Image 1Oh my God, it’s a giant turd! No, there’s more. IT’S A DREADLOCK AROUND A TURD!  Wait, it’s even worse than that! IT’S A DREADLOCK AROUND A CUPCAKE! OH THE HUMANITY!!!!!  

I imagine this is Joe’s retaliation. My intel is a little spotty right now, taxes and everything. It’s crunch time and there’s only so much time our friendly neighborhood CPA firm can take to engage in pseudo-scatological warfare. I totally want them to do my taxes next year.

One might call foul on this maneuver. I mean, that’s a perfectly good cupcake gone wantin’. Some would say that’s jes wrong. I eat some pretty gross stuff but I’m not sure I would put that in my mouth. I put gross in italics because I think we westerners are a bunch of wasteful idiots.

People throw out perfectly good food because it is nearing the sell-by date, which actually means the food won’t “expire” for at least another week, which is a conservative estimate to say the least. As far as canned and frozen foods go, just because it is expired doesn’t mean it is dangerous, it just means it might not taste quite as good. Might not. PEOPLE ARE STARVING!

But the other day I pushed even my own boundaries. Saturday morning Zeb wandered over to a garage sale down the street and came back with this.

IMG_0079It’s two giant to-gos of saag (Indian creamed spinach, my fave) and a huge container of naan (Indian flatbread). Zeb found them on the sidewalk and who knows if they were left there Friday night or Saturday morning. It says “Fresh Friday Night” and “Good Food” although I was a little put off by “Saag, Be Careful.” Why? Should I be scared?

Zeb was all psyched and said we could feed it to the chickens. Excellent. But then he loaded up a bowl and heated it up in the microwave.

Me: You’re not going to eat that are you?

Zeb: Why not?

Me: Because it has been sitting on the sidewalk for God knows how long.

Zeb: I’m sure it’s okay.

Me: Dude, that’s disgusting.


Admit it, it looks fucking gross. But it smelled delicious and Zeb was digging in with a gusto so I decided to get over myself and have a bite. What’s the worse thing that will happen? I’ll get a stomach ache? We Americans act like it is the end of the world. I used to cook at a restaurant way back when but there is no way I could do it now because I cannot abide by having to wear disposable gloves all the time. Talk about wasteful.

Pizzaria Locale has an open kitchen and I watched in horror as a expediter put on gloves to pick up a glass of pudding, set it on a small plate, then shave some chocolate on top. He sent it off with a waiter and then swept the few errant chocolate shavings into his glove clad hand and turned the whole thing inside out and tossed it, like chocolate was some kind of biohazard. What. The. Hell.

I also saw him plate up a couple cookies. One slipped and touched the counter so he immediately chucked it in the trash … for touching the counter … where they make food … that is so clean you could perform surgery on it. We saw this happen again as he was getting our cookies and as he wound up to huck it into the trash, Zeb and I jumped out of our seats and yelled, NO NO NO!!!! He was like, do you want a free cookie? And we were like, duh. Clearly this is restaurant policy, but it sickens me. There is nothing wrong with that food. I don’t want to overreact like a the lady on the packaging diet, but something is really wrong with this situation.

So you know what I did? I ate the saag with the warmed up naan and THEN I fed it to the chickens. We ate the shit out of it; it was delicious. And no, I didn’t get sick. But I don’t think I would eat that cupcake, I’ve heard that the dreadlock it’s wrapped in has been in some unsavory places.

Okay, this is really fun but I’ve got to cut the crap.


I’m not that into handbags, really. When I say I have “designer” handbags, I mean a bag I bought at a consignment store for $50. That’s my idea of fancy. DONATE.


All Pooh must go! At least all the duplicates must go. To be honest, my guys aren’t really into Pooh, but I have a complete collection in our library, just in case. The books on nature are also duplicates. DONATE.


Too much Pooh. What’s with me and poo today anyway? It must be in the air, hahahahahahaha! DONATE.


Complete, just missing one dust cover.


Magnetic game sets without the pieces. Also, isn’t that what iPads are for? TRASH.


An impulse buy at Target a while back. DONATE.

6 thoughts on “Dreadlock Fallout (2670-2683)

    • Eating a burrito in a room full of dead people is not the same as eating a cupcake that has been touching them. Either way, you are still a pussy.

    • Totally. What is it about hair, though. Not talking about the dreads and all because they are their own entity, but why is it that when it’s on someone’s head it is pretty and touchable but when it’s in the drain, on the floor, in your food, it’s completely disgusting?

  1. I would totally eat the saag. I detest prissiness over food- totally had to wean the husband out of his prissy- food – snootiness. What really makes me laugh is people wont eat something after they drop it onto the ground and get some good healthy dirt on it- But they will eat fast food, drink diet soda etc. Have you ever seen inside a meat slaughter house? I have, they literally sweep the shit off the floor and it all goes in the sausage grinder. I will not take any rubbish from anyone that eats commercially produced food and whines about germs and cleanliness! GO VIV!!

    • I had dinner with a bona-fide porn star (Stacy Valentine) who did not want vegetables to touch her food. She said it was because she was fussy about what she put in her mouth. I’ve seen her films and I was like, “Um, but you’re a porn star.” She saw the irony.

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