Ramblin', raw, salty, and questionable in, um, shape.

For lunch today, which I had at two p.m. owing to the fact that I didn't get up till almost one because I'd stayed up till nearly five, and only then because nobody was online but me in all the wide, wide world so I finally went to bed but it took me a long time to fall asleep because of the itch, itch, itch of all the mosquito bites which cover me from head to toe because I had stepped out onto the deck for thirty seconds to feed the cat and all the other cats in the county not to mention various and sundry racoons and possums all of which have some sort of hobo sign up by the road and back by the woods telling all the wildlife in the world to come have a free buffet at Jane's house, which mention of food brings me back to the point of this sentence, which is, for lunch today I had a tall glass of raw lemon juice and a hot dog slathered in mustard and a handful of Lay's potato chips, and really, nobody should be all weirded out or anything by that because people drink orange juice, don't they?  And in case anybody was wondering, the hot dog was the cheapest, grossest kind imaginable, purchased on sale, ten in a package, for eighty-nine cents.  I doubt if there's any real meat in it at all, unless you count all the ground-up beaks and claws and hoofs, but then those are all snatched up by McDonald's to make their McNuggets, aren't they?.  And I boiled it 'till it turned inside out and blossomed at the end, and resembled nothing more than a. . . . .oh scheisse.  I would be surprised if there was any nutritional value in it at all, but mustard is good for you, isn't it?  Whatever.  It was a freaky, somewhat pornish, totally lacking in nutrition-type lunch.

 

It was delicious.

 

Come on over.  There's still plenty in the 'fridge.