Hi, there! Today I’m gonna teach you how to make a lovely dish known as HWIDG. It’s from Northern Italy, and when prepared right, it’ll knock your socks off. But first, here’s a five page essay on my life that you’ll have to scroll through to get to the recipe. I’m VERY interesting so I know you’ll want to read it-wait what’s that? You don’t? I’m not interesting and that’s why I run a vegan mommy blog? Well, fine, here’s your dumb recipe:
* Shrinking Men's Sections
* Release Dates
* School Fundraisers
* Wrong Numbers
Men. We know what we want. We go to a store, grab it, and go. Sure, if you need to kill some time you might walk around looking at things absent-mindedly. But chances are, we’ve done the research, we know what we want, and odds are we have a backup plan too if they don’t have the exact thing. Or we’ll go to Amazon. I guess that’s why stores are limiting our options so much. Used to be, we’d have at least a third of the store. It made sense. Men’s, Women’s, and Kids’. Now, we’re lucky to get a closet’s worth. The Men’s section is now in a discount bin at the end of aisle three, good luck. Remember when things came out on a certain day? Me too. Now they’ve changed that day. Movies, Games, what have you, are now released whenever they want. Movies used to come out on a Friday, now, Wednesday night. Music on a Tuesday, but now it’s Friday. I think video games come out at 4:51 AM Sunday mornings. Books only come out on Katilsday anymore, it’s impossible to get a hold of one fresh. Digital releases are even worse, you’ve got to hike there and back 20 miles in the snow to get a one of those.
Remember those days when you’d gather in the Auditorium and the Vice Principal would tell you all about the new school fundraiser? You’d get a cool catalogue of prizes you could win if you sell enough. It’s either meat, cookie dough, chocolate bars, wrapping paper, or coupon books you’re selling and people, you better pray for the non-perishable items cause if you’re buying sausage from a kid, It’ll be grayer then Clint Eastwood’s pubic hair by the time it gets to you. Here’s a secret, the kids don’t care about your damn hot Italian links, they just want that cool looking stereo. How in the world, in this day and age do you dial a wrong number? My theory: old people. Old people, with their failing eyesight, are trying to call their grandson from a terribly scribbled number in their little journal notepad. They can’t see the numbers on the page, and they can’t see the numbers on the phone (smart phones are a whole other level of difficulty) so they end up dialing you, but with 300% confidence that’s it’s little Jimmy. And they do it once every two months. Not enough to bug you, just enough for you to slowly hate anyone with that name. Plus, a look at the movie selections for next month’s commentary, and your voicemails, all while surrounded by loaded firearms! Don’t forget to visit the Patreon and Discord for even more of us!