I Care to Call Those Spasmodic Tricks of Radiance Miracles

Well. First let me tell you about the sausage I did NOT put in my mouth.

I discovered this sausage at a "Lilburn International Farmers Market" or some such which was absolutely fabulous, particularly if you need to experience at least 200 varieties of soy sauce and vegetables I have never seen, not even at the Dekalb Farmers' Market. They also featured a variety of the sort of seafood it seems would be great to play pranks on people with, like, you could go to a party, and backhand people with a squid. Also: Pork stomachs! It's what for dinner!

Not. This sausage was some type of chorizo, and I was thinking, that looks sooo good, and is only $1.49, and then I noticed the ingredients.

The first ingredient was "Pork salivary glands," the second ingredient was "pork lymph nodes," and the third ingredient was "cheeks."

Now the real question is, would I eat this, and some of y'all are shaking your heads. Y'all know I won't eat anything "unnatural" like turkey bacon or turkey sausage or Splenda, so- - - perhaps not. And I consider that the Right of Americans Not to Have to Eat Squicky Organs should be right there in the Declaration of Independence. I mean, seriously, freedom from having a heavily tongue/feet/kidney based diet is honestly one of the things that makes this country KICK ASS.

Now on the other hand, you wouldn't KNOW that it was made out of salivary glands or whatever, so perhaps it tastes nice, and it doesn't have a lot of chemicals, so perhaps I might eat it.

I really think that I should be in charge of a marketing campaign for this product.

El Vallejo Chorizo! Now with 25% more lymph nodes than the competing brand!

Or they should market it to the sort of middle school mentality that likes squicky things like eyeball gummies and Skittles and blue ketchup.

Here is another thing that makes this country KICK ASS; we don't have to eat nutria. At least not yet. However, the Obamalypse is not yet over so, I dunno.

I do realise that rabbits are rodents as well and I would eat a rabbit but I just draw the line here. I would, however, WEAR this animal, so anyone who wants me to buy me a nutria coat, you will have my eternal gratitude.

Oo, and I didn't write about my car accident. Yes, the Cadillac got hit, AGAIN; I was waiting to turn left from Memorial onto Delano, at about 7:21, 'cos I was on my way home to cook mussels and have some Fun with Mr Taggart (please note Atlas Shrugged reference) and then wham I got rear ended, and not in the good way, either.

It takes a moment for one to collect one's wits after such an occurrence because there I was just sitting there and then I figured out what had happened and dialed the police.

Ms. Thang gets out of her car and wants to use my phone to talk to the police but they had rung off by then. My head and neck hurt. I get out of the car; I am angry. Here it is broad daylight and you manage to rear end a car which is white, chromey and about the size of a small house. This woman (?)- o my, you should have seen how she was dressed. She had some kind of peroxide weave thing on her head, and fake eyelashes with vibrant blue eyeshadow and her skirt was smaller than my hand but she was wearing converse stiletto platform things that that were taller than my hand, and enormous blue plastic earrings, and I am- baffled. It is too early to go clubbing, and this outfit was- this outfit was- worse than a life-size Bratz doll. Strippers would have found this outfit indecent. It was like, there's a continuum of sexiness that goes from totally- nonsexy, like Amish/Orthodox Jew? Down to Prostitute? This was like, way on below that, this was-- naked would be less slutty than this. And this sort of outfit is incomprehensible to me, because- I may have some dim concept of what a heterosexual male might consider erotic, which (to me)involves some degrees of femininity and softness. Marilyn Monroe, curves, padding, voluptousness, some degree of grace- But this was sparkly- no, not sparkly, it had a kind of meretricious occasional glint to it, and hard, and cheap, like- having sex with a Brillo pad, is how I would imagine it to be. She starts screaming at me, and - then pushing and shoving me, which did not enhance her reputation- and then Sheridan happens by- "Look, she hit me!" I exclaim, and Sheridan stops and witnesses her attacking me, and Ms. Thang is also flagging down cars on Memorial and screaming and cursing at them. The neighbours, also, naturally stop to witness this and she curses and screams at them.

They are willing to give a statement when the police arrive, which- I would be thankful, except you know some people, it's motivated by a desire for drama than it is by a desire to help.
The police arrest Ms. Thang for battery. I want her charged with assault as well (causing apprehension of an imminent battery), but apparently, this is not a crime in Georgia anymore, and curse you Professor who Made Me Hungry and the Bar for making me learn this. The police officer for whom I had to wait two and a half hours to sign the warrant was a jerk. He was not happy that he had to deal with all this. "It's 9:00 on Friday evening and I didn't expect to have to do anything tonight, etc." He complained bitterly.

Well how do you think I feel, is what I wanted to say, here I am, going home to cook din din for Mr Taggart and snuggle him, and then she (I am rather questioning this, because- I am thinking, no real woman could dress that badly? And then there's Lucky who has had three or four kids so never mind.) hits me and then attacks me and then y'all keep me waiting here for two and a half hours while y'all diddle y'allselves or whatever.

Please let me not forget how she had klon?opin in the car? Some kind of muscle relaxants in a prescription bottle which wasn't hers and she gave the cops an ID which clearly wasn't her.

And in shorter news items: Alex etc went hiking on Monday, which I forewent (this is too a word; I looked it up) to go have dinner with two professors and the first professor's wife. Out of professional courtesy, I shan't name the professors.

We had din din at professor 1 and wife's house. It was- OMG the JETSONS apartment! It was on the 14th floor, which was -vertiginous, they had a balcony and I would, if I lived there, spend a great deal of time on all fours experiencing this balcony- and it had amazing 360 degree views of Atlanta. And the slanted windows etc just like the Jetsons. I was hugely impressed. I'm like, lawyers! F*ck yeah! I want to do this someday!

The professors were awesome. We had a wonderful conversation and a lovely evening and Mr Taggart came.

Oh, and I am a thousand times glad I forewent (there's that word again) hiking because I was told there was much drama. First of all, this was supposed to start at 9:30 on Monday morning and I can think of one kind of exercise I would do at 9:30 on a holiday morning and it would not be hiking. Later in the day, certainly. Then, the worst part of it was that- listen y'all, they hiked up.

To a waterfall.

Then they swam in the pool beneath the waterfall.

THEN THERE WAS A SNAKE IN THE POOL!

A SNAKE! Yes! A SNAKE!

That would have absolutely been the end of Happy Fun Outdoor Time for me and I would have run screaming back to the car and sat there and read a book.

Snakes, no matter what Daniel says, are NOT our friends. No. I do not care if they eat rodents and insects. Cats eat rodents and are furry and nice, and lots of things eat insects, and snakes are not MY friend.

"Robin" said snakes come and go. That is also a lie. They come, I go.

And they are not more afraid of me than I am of them. No animal could contain that much fear and loathing in its body. I am torn between whether I fear GPS or snakes more. The snakes get the edge though.

Oh, and I need to write about THAT fallout but not tonight

Also Cruella, what is with this stuff you are posting on Facebook? It makes no sense.

Actually, my dear, this Mr Taggart has put me in a poetry quoting mood. So every day I find an appropriate- hee- what I find appropriate- piece of poetry and quote it to him.

My current favourite is "Black Rook in Rainy Weather" by Sylvia Plath.

Cruella- do you really think that's going in a good direction?

Well, I don't use any of the more unpleasant poems and stick to the intense imagery of passion in some of the others. No, I'm not going to stick my head in the oven, or encourage- well- not Mr Taggart- anyone to stick their heads in the oven.

Now, I have a new euphemism for orgasm, as in- "Spasmodic Tricks of Radiance- you might care to call miracles" (not actually quoted, but paraphrased)

Cruella - -

I like to use this as in, "Let's go home and have some of those Spasmodic Tricks of Radiance." And what I want to know is how do you know she didn't mean it like that? The more I read the poem, the more I get that out of it.