If I Stumble, They’re Going to Eat Me Alive

// March 5th, 2010 // Daily Jots

I have recently discovered that mangoes are a glorious snack food.  They are not, however, good date food.  Like chicken wings, it is impossible to eat an entire mango in one sitting like a lady unless you spend half an hour cutting it into tiny manageable slices.  Impossible.  I was going to tell a story about how I took a mango to bed with me to snack on while reading To The Lighthouse (an attempt at pure levity in the face of entangling English), but how my mango and I succeeded only in making a mess of the bed, left with sticky, gooey remains after a few brief moments of foodie pleasure. But then I realized that to go into any detail would just make that sound way worse than it already does, so I’ll stop.  My pure heart and soul can’t handle the thought of it being misconstrued as mango porn.  Alas poor mango, they just don’t understand.

Also of an orange colour, I was reading up on Jersey Shores, because I just don’t understand why they’ve become such a thing.  They’re as orange as Oompa Loompas and only half as interesting.  I guess it’s like watching a trainwreck maybe, or an opportunity to simultaneously live vicarously and mock incessantly.  Sn00ki pretty much comes up to my waist, Jwoww has trademarked her boobs (good on her, I’m thinking of trying that myself) and all of the guys look like my personal nightmare of masculinity.  And they’re all orange.  How are fake tans cool?  How are super dark real tans cool for that matter?  You could never marry someone like that because you know that they’re bound to develop skin cancer at a young aged and you’ll be widowed in your prime.

Alyssa Milano is super jealous of those JS kids, so much so that she wanted to turn herself into one of them:

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