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Over thanksgiving I took part in a discussion about the preparation of cranberries; and since neither of those partaking (F (do you know F? Probably not… I’ll just go ahead and let you know he’s one of my new friends (yeah, in my mind there’s this group of people who are sort of referred to as ‘the new friends’ (though they aren’t necessarily all friends with each other)) and his name’s Foster (good guy, intelligent, amiable)) and myself) were totally confident in their knowledge banks, we deferred to the ultimate in information: The Internet (which I have to add is on my shit-list recently since it pretty much doesn’t work ever at my apartment and rarely if ever seems to be working properly at Bug). Not only was our curiosity quenched as far as cooking the cranberries, but I also found out more than I ever wanted to know about their health benefits. Essentially cranberries just go into your digestive tract and sort of repair it on their way through, which I think is pretty noble since the GI is basically designed to destroy them, and what do they do? They face the inevitable and even give a little something back… these guys! So here I am, almost a month later, drinking a glass of that bittersweet (another reason I’m getting into them, they’re bittersweet… like this wacky world) nectar everyday, and I’m not gonna lie to you, Charlie, no more bloody stools, burning urine, bile-y vomit, or pungent flatulence on a daily basis. Pretty awesome, right? Right? TC!
And here’s something else I’m coming around to recently: global warming. I know, it sucks because Santa’s traditional outfit is like made out of fifty ducks worth of feathers and like thirty mink pelts (which is so sexy… Santa, bringing sexy back… or did it never leave? I don’t know…) and is super warm and I feel bad that he’s gonna sweat his balls off when it’s like fifty-five degrees (F) on Chirstday Eve, but what-evs, I’m loving it, riding my bike to work in comfort, putting off buying any winter clothes.
Oof. Man, has your life been like uberbusy lately? It’s like I can actually feel the wind of time blowing in my face as the days fly by almost overflowing with tasks and events. And you know what, I bet my hair looks fucking hot all windblown by time.
P.S. I’m moving to Jersey to start a rap group called Jerzey Fresh.