March 8, 2010
Year 4~Day 82 +53/365 AND Day 1178: Necessity is the Mother of Invention
From a Flickr set by Old Shoe Woman.
I just used everything in the refrigerator to make a sandwich for brunch.
2 slices wheat bread – 45 calories per slice
1 tablespoon Smart Beat mayonaise – 10 calories per tablespoon
1 slice pepper jack cheese – 80 calories per slice
some Baby Spring Mix – about 5 calories
some sun-dried tomatoes – about 30 calories
some red and yellow bell peppers – about 6 calories
1 jumbo boiled egg, sliced – about 78 calories
salt and pepperI heated it a little in the microwave to melt the cheese and wilt the vegetables.
In addition, I ate:
1-1/2 cups Fresh Fruit (pineapple, watermelon, cantaloupe) – 120 calories
6 oz cup Strawberry Yogurt (fat free) – 110 calories
1 cup of Mocha Almond coffee w/sweetener
1 bottle Propel water
Of Old Shoe Woman, “I guess this is what ‘normal’ people do,” says JustinSpace, who further supports his guess with photographic examples of the horrors of elementary school anti-drug door decorating.
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I’ve been thinking a lot about the word brunch. is there no trend for a meal between lunch and dinner simply because the word wouldn’t be as cool?
Isn’t dinner the word for the meal between lunch and supper in some parts of the country?
We don’t eat supper in California so I’m not sure about that.
dinner is what some people in the south also call lunch.
Assuming you take your evening meal at a civilized hour (not 5:00 or 5:30 pm), I’d say that what you sit down to between mid-day and evening is tea.
Lunch. Supper. Dinner. My head is in a whirl.
We don’t eat supper in California. That may be one reason y’all are not so fat as some of the rest of us.
I think that there’s no lunch/dinner hybrid meal because of the mainstream sleep cycle. There should be a push for this meal to come to prominence. It could really help out the economy. I think if there is money in it, someone will come up with a kickass word for it like ‘motherfucker’.
Hey, Deron. Wanna come over for motherfucker?
There should be a push to stigmatize the mainstream sleep cycle and promote staying up all night, working a few hours in the middle of the day and another few in the early evening, and spending the remainder of the waking hours eating, drinking, and fucking.
Yes!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!
Guess Who’s Coming to Motherfucker.
My Motherfucker with Andre.
Motherfucker at Eight.
The Man Who Came to Motherfucker.
Forget brunch, lunch, supper, and dinner. I just want to take drugs.
we’ll be rich.
The Man Who Came To Motherfucker has legs.
Dinner is lunch? You just blew my mind. Now I need to get me some food. Anybody free for Motherfucker?
I already had Motherfucker. Different time zones.
The truth is that it’s not even lunch time here yet, maybe I can make plans for some Motherfucker a little later.
Lucy, was it afternoon motherfucker or high motherfucker?
High Motherfucker, Sheila.
I reckoned as much.
If you’re from New Zealand, you pronounce it mutha-ucka. Unlike Australians, who pronounce it mutha-ucka.
Hobbits eat six meals a day. I don’t remember which book states this fact. Near as I can tell, they would be called:
I’m not sure whether Dinner and Tea should be reversed.
Motherfuck hobbits.
Renner eats six meals a day.
Dave,
Wikipedia says the following about hobbit meals: “They would enjoy at least seven meals a day, when they can get them – breakfast, second breakfast, elevenses, luncheon, afternoon tea, dinner and (later in the evening) supper.”
And if Wikipedia is accurate about anything, it’s probably Lord of the Rings facts.
Therefore, Renner is a Hobbit.
elevenses
Note, hobbits do not eat brunch.
Which brings me to my next point, brunch does not exist because it has a better name, it exists because of mimosas. As it is culturally acceptable to drink between lunch and dinner. There is no need to invent a meal.
What about ‘midnight feast’? I personally enjoy the dessert part of my afternoon breakfast the best.
Smart Beat mayonnaise
Deron will eat citrus desserts at midnight.
Who likes the word sup? I say fuck sup. It sounds all King James.
Sometimes, late in a game of scrabble, sup is a good word, mostly if you can put the “p” on the DL square and make the word “pi” too.
Not to sup, but to fête!
Fête de minuit.
Even better: régal de minuit.
That is what I love best of all.
Le petit régal de minuit.
Le petit régal de minuit can involve wallowing in bed eating bread and cheese and slurping champagne.
Smart Beat mayonnaise has no place within le petit régal de minuit.
Can everybody please stop talking about champagne? I’m getting a headache.
Hey, Daryl. Will you walk over to the liquor store and get us some champagne? Prosecco, actually. That would be great. Thanks.
I will not eat a boiled egg. Not for anything.
This thread made me laugh out loud. The wheezy laugh. ‘Til my eyes ran. I needed a good eyes-run. I came home early today feelin’ beaten and wounded. I have not had the motherfucker yet. Time zones notwithstanding. Motherfucker-time’s acomin’ and I’m gettin’ hongry.
Just don’t eat a motherfucking boiled egg sandwich.
Cindy, no eggs tonight. I’m sorry to say it, especially to you my sweetie, but MEAT is on the menu.
With a schmear of Smart Beat mayonnaise?
I sup cheese curds for motherfucker. Whenever possible, at least.
Motherfucker is held right before sunset, during the mystic time of Shabbat’s waning. Timing is key to a proper motherfucker.
When I was a kid dinner was midday, but, now it is supper, which, when I was a kid was a meal before bed and after tea which is now what I call supper or dinner.
Ripeness is all. Motherfucker.
Dinner! Supper! Supper! Dinner! My head is reeling again, and I haven’t even popped the champagne.
When I was a kid, we only had dinner on Sunday. Roast beef was usually the centerpiece of the meal. The remainder of the week, supper featured some element of Sunday’s dinner. Wish we’d known about motherfucker back then.
Smart Beat mayonnaise. Is that what that was? I learned about that in high school.
“Roast beef on Sundays! ALL RIGHT!” (The Kinks, “Autumn Almanac”)
Young Phil Old Phil
Dinner(12ish) = lunch
Tea(5ish, main meal) = supper(main meal 8ish)
Supper(small snack prior to bed) = Supper(main meal)
All the formatting has gone tits up, but, you get the idea I hope.
I want a laminated card to carry in my wallet so I can do the conversions.
I think I could format that for you Phil using my newly acquired intermediate HTML skills, but it would take about 5 hours.
Saturday and sunday always behaved the same as being an adult, tea was tea and supper was supper
This has become something of a Good Will Hunting situation.
Tea was tea and supper was supper and the sun never set on the British Empire.
A place for everyone and everyone in his place.
It feels like we’re all huddled in some disused Quaker barn, chanting some really freaky shit.
Amen.
Motherfucker.
so much so, Sheila that I still drink with a crooked little finger – I think it’s in the genes – I also feel that I am able to speak any foreign tongue by speaking English slowly and very loudly
Good Will hunting, that is it exactly. S’pose I’ll find it? Can I find Good Will?
I remember my first trip to the states in 87 – I was taken for brunch. I had to have the concept explained to me and remember asking if that wasn’t lunch? I was told it was way to early for lunch and in any case we hadn’t had breakfast and so . . . . . .
And spittle starts coming out the corners of Phil’s mouth as he writhes and shrieks in tongues and falls to the floor, drooling. And then somebody brings him some tea and a Scotch egg, and he feels much better. And then somebody else sings in a dramatic soprano, but What Shall It Be Named?! What Shall It Be Named For Fanden?! (Oblique Danish reference there, sorry, this whole situation I actually see taking place in Danish altogether, probably with subtitles). And off goes Phil, spittle and tongues, and we all sort of wail and at that point I have to stop and think.
I think I need some tea and motherfucker, now.
Lucy, were you there? I was the cop having to make a speech, but, what followed is very accurate!
I am drinking both Oolong tea and red wine just now – not from the same cup I hasten to add. I bow my head in shame as this is obviously child supper time – it ought to be a SPAM® and mustard sandwich.
It was way too early for lunch and in any case we hadn’t had breakfast and so . . . it was time to start in on the booze!
Phil, some of us say sammich when we’re in our cups.
Phil, it is half past midnight in your part of the world, and we all know it. Is that when English children have their suppers?
What Shall It Be Named?! What Shall It Be Named For Fanden?!
Spittle and tongues. Life isn’t all spittle and tongues, Lucy, though Lord knows I wish it were.
Spittle and tongue, tea and motherfucker.
Hold the SPAM®. Thank you.
The nice elderly woman in the picture looks like she wants to kill me with that motherfucker.
Rick, I can live with Sammich just so long as Danny is making it.
Sheila, I’m eating childish food at adult time and ain’t nobody gonna stop me.
Killing me softly with motherfucker.
My dad, in his lunchbox, had a Spam and mustard sammich for his work lunch, supper, dinner, WhateverTF, every day he ever worked. At eighty, I’m pretty sure, he still carries it with him.
Well, Rick, you can’t go wrong with SPAM and mustard.
SPAM® and mustard for motherfucker. Help me, Jesus.
I love all y’all. Big, big love.
I guess old people can’t afford good bread.
You’re all invited over for motherfucker tomorrow.
Here’s what’s in the fridge for motherfucker sammiches:
Canned beets (pickled and plain)
Roasted red peppers
Tahini
Baby Bella mushrooms (sliced, of course)
147 kinds of mustard
23 varieties of hot sauce
Oscar Mayer light bologna (5 slices)
Annie’s shitake and sesame salad dressing
Fat-free plain yogurt
Cottage cheese (low-fat, small curd)
Parmesan cheese
Stroh’s, Old Milwaukee, and Guiness beer (yes, that’s right)
Some really, really nasty mixed greens from GFS
We like having motherfuckertime early, so please be prompt. Bring some bread. Dress up a little.
ok
(. . .addendum to MGS. . it’s 314 kinds of mustard and I finished off the Annie’s last night0
Motherfucker chez Smith: Dagwoods. Dagwoods as high as your eye on the Fourth of July.
It seems rather odd for many people to be discussing my photo. Usually I don’t mind, but there is a lot of unnecessary language in the comments. This is very offensive to me. I’ll have to think about how I should respond to this use of my photo.
motherfuckerclusterflockerstocker.
Oh, Ms. Baxter, we know–we are sometimes very crude. Even the Pope got onto us once.
Your picture gave me salmonella.
What are “Moral Rights”?
In addition to the right of licensors to request removal of their name from the work when used in a derivative or collective they don’t like, copyright laws in most jurisdictions around the world (with the notable exception of the US except in very limited circumstances) grant creators “moral rights” which may provide some redress if a derivative work represents a “derogatory treatment” of the licensor’s work.
We were talking about motherfucker.
This feels like it’s going to turn into something like the ReadWriteWeb One True Facebook Login phenomenon, somehow.
Judy, you could just save yourself a lot of hassle by making your photos not available to download, or altering your privacy settings on Flickr so that only your contacts can download them.
But this is the internet, where you have the wonderful opportunity to learn to tolerate not being able to control everything in your environment. Good luck.
Does this mean tomorrow’s motherfucker at Michael and Kathy’s is off? I’ve already picked out a nice frock and everything.
So far as I know, Judy, I did attribute your work “in the manner specified by the author or licensor (but not in any way that suggests that they endorse you or your use of the work)”.
I linked to a NASA picture of a rocket once that looked just like a penis. Those people are sick and they eat lunch in a control room.
We’re still on. We’ll just have to finish and clean up before the motherfucker lawyers get here.
Where’d Matt Damon go?
Phew. This is quite the read.
But what I really want to know is why don’t Californians eat supper? You mean, they only dine??
Here in the midwest we sup often; supper is almost always better than dinner. Supper means left-overs, the TV on, sitting in the kitchen, in bare feet (now on cold floors).
Mmm, that’s good eatin’!
We also are passionate about our elevenses. Along with supper, it’s the very best time to eat.
On our drive over we will be sure to avoid pointing at anything that is owned by anybody, and if we do we will be sure to not talk about how it reminded us of something else, since the owner might not approve of what it reminded us of–or of our driving by on a public highway with our eyes glancing all about while eating moldy sandwiches inspired by things seen on the internet.
Yes, I am aware that I can change the license on my work. I was just pointing out that I have some “Moral Rights” according to the Creative Commons license.
You are free to share, to remix with the understanding that there are Other Rights. And one is The Author’s Moral Rights. I quoted above what Moral means.
Sheila, I am reminded of some of your photos (and I think you’ll know which) checking out Judy’s Flickr site.
Judy, the passport photo of Jim (?) is super.
Deron, I think we’re about to get sued. God help us all. Everyone, to the lifeboats. Cockfuckers and cuntybitches first, please.
We have not changed your photograph. We have had a conversation that evolved from a perfectly moral and legal viewing of it. We are not concerned with your views about our conversation unless you want to join in, as you have done. If you are offended, don’t visit this site again. If you remove your photograph from Flickr, or block it so the link no longer connects with it, this thread will still be here–and we will enjoy it.
There are no grounds for a lawsuit here–all of this is perfectly legal–but wouldn’t it be interesting for something like this to be argued in court? The idea that language in itself can be immoral, that discussion inspired by a photograph (and only minimally inspired, at that) could somehow be harmful to the photographer who openly shared the photo–I’d love to hear the discussion.
Cindy, that reminds me of something a cocksucker of a lawyer once told me. I could tell you stories.
Sanjose! Kielbasa, y’all!.
Goddammit! I put a period after an exclamation point, y’all. Must have meant it.
Cocksucker? That’s our name for dessert!
Tofu Kielbasa for me, please. Or Soyrizo.
Sheila, pumpkin, you could tell me stories all day.
I took it away, but I’ll put it back if you like. For emphasis. Motherfucker.
We should charge.
Me too, Sheila, doll. We just need a day.
Five Easy Pieces Oh yeah–that scene.
Poor Judy Baxter, all she wanted to do was eat everything in the fridge and take a picture of it. In the end she inspired the creation of motherfucker. An unwilling messiah, if you will.
Sheila, please put it back, Thanks for fixing it, but it fucks up the comment. Smootches, Mothafuckaaaaa. XOR
per se
Holy Shit, Cindy. Like you said above, “Big, big love.”
where are the masons when we need them?
this is what happens when you fuck a stranger in the ass.
All better, Rick.
Stranger things can happen. They might cry or some shit stranger than that. It’s been a few years…I can’t remember everything.
Judy Baxter: Unwilling Messiah.
She did not know how she’s been done unto.
Deron. Deron, Deron, Deron.
(I was talking about motherfucker.)
When this photo was taken motherfucker hadn’t even been invented yet.
We need to trademark motherfucker quick, or someone will steal it and put it up on the Internets.
motherfucker.
Will Aaron claim moral rights, do you think?
Oh, you can bet on it. People smell fame, they go all moral on your ass.
Kelsey?
The repast of Motherfucker has to now be woven into our time at Clusterflockstock II. It don’t need to so fancy, for me, but a repast maybe figured into the afternoon in the theatre while watching Bottle Rocket? It might be as simple as popcorn and vodka? Or as elaborate as one might concoct with Danny? (And, girl if you go with him, you’ll need to talk.)
Just sayin’
XOR
flickr. I hardly know ‘er.
Cindy, when the inn opens we need a big neon sign, “Original home of motherfucker.”
Flickr. Motherfuckr.
Pink neon. I’m on it.
Here’s what I want to know: did Judy clean out her fridge and eat before the colonoscopy or after? Can we get our lawyers to make her answer in open court?
Sheila, is this our most-commented upon post of all time?
I believe that Your Drag Queen Name?, posted by Rick Neece, holds that honor.
And another reason I love you, Cindy, is that you said “most-commented upon post”, not “most commented post”.
We have our standards. Motherfucker.
and to think, all this happened whilst I slept. It was a fitful sleep and after reading this is it any wonder.
I bet Judy Baxter will be lurking here. We seem to have introduced her to a new sandwich after all!
I see artistic collaboration in the future.
Hey Lucy, who comes after cocksuckers and cuntybitches? I’m so late I must be swimming to lifeboats with the assfisters.
I read somewhere that elevenses was created because we had some astronomical surplus of harvested apples and figured a cider hour would fix everything just right. I think it was in The Botany of Desire, but you shouldn’t trust my memory. Is there a beverage we can affix to motherfucker, like cider with elevenses? Our Amanda would approve of the champers and prosecco y’all had last night.
I love a good stout.
Jeez Kels, I’m sorry but at this stage of the game you’re with the pony interferers.
Shoot. Well, that makes sense. I do love to interfere with ponies.