I like my family, I truly do. They’re all good people and we entertain each other in the weirdest ways. For example, during the New Year’s shindig I threw, did we gather around and compare blessings? Nope. Did we make lists of resolutions and our plans for keeping them? Not really. How about celebrating the miracle of each and every one of our respective children? Ha! Instead, we got drunk and giggled at the Honey Badger and the shits he doesn’t give.
That’s not to say my family scours in the cesspools of white trashiness with yours truly. Au contraire, some of them hover in a realm somewhere between the fancy and the schmancy. So much so that I sometimes wonder where I fit into the dynamic of it all. Unfortunately, I have a pretty good guess. There’s an old adage in poker that if you can’t spot the sucker at the table in the first hour, you’re the sucker. Similarly, if you can’t figure out who the black sheep in your family is after 40 years… you get the idea. White trash that’s a black sheep? Kinda funny.
A friend of mine went to Vegas this week and I offered some advice on how to live it up. I told them to do half of whatever I would do and even that made them blush. I’m the only divorcee of all my siblings. Rather, I will be the only one after I actually file, which is something I can do if and when I can ever afford it. To call me a mess would be an insult to disorganization, but I’m not fishing for sympathy. I’m finding my own happiness and I love the life I’ve lived. In fact, I’m gonna share some of that life with a Gallery page. (Of course, I gleaned through a zillion digital pics and only provided you with things that are at least a wee bit food-related.)
Yes, I’m introducing a new feature over a new recipe. Does that sound like a copout? I’m just like the Honey Badger: I’m pretty badass and I don’t give a shit.