Sauce: A political speech. Or, Why I’d be a great president.

Saucey sauce sauce! Ha ha!
You knew you could always trust me for great content, didn’t you? And as always, I never disappoint!
Sauce sauce sauce. Yep, folks, I’ll be here all night! Gimme a hand!
(Memo to self - I am so hilarious. The people are going to love that incredibly witty opening.)
Okay. That was fun. But let’s stop fooling around and get down to the nitty-gritty reality of this thing we call life. Life isn’t fair. Life isn’t just. People aren’t fair. People aren’t just. Sometimes they’re just stupid, but they’re never just just. But sometimes a little hint of justice peaks out from behind the dark clouds of incompetent, anarchistic (Is that a word???? Memo to self - remove all memos to self before publishing!), man-made obnoxiousness we call the penal system. I don’t know exactly what’s up with the penal system, by the way. My mind gets hung up on the “pee” sound and I start snickering and my brain receptors shut down. It’s people like me who makes the world such a great place, let me tell ya’. We stand around in a blissful stupor, chewing our agrigarian cuds, chuckling over funny sounding words while innocent toddlers are led to the electric chair on false charges that aren’t true! (Memo to self - “agrigarian” adds a very nice touch. Whatdoesitmean.)
I have amazing hair today! It’s made out of carrots or something and that’s why it’s yelloooowwww!
Did I just say that out loud?
What was I talking about?
Oh yes. Justice! Justice needs to happen more often! People in authority need to be under the same justice as the commoners! People in charge should be subject to justice just as much as people who work at Wal-Mart! People like me deserve justice just like people like you, excepting a few exceptional exceptions. I demand complete and total justice for everyone, all the time. ALL the time. Constantly!
(Memo to self - why is the crowd waving axes and shovels?)

Comments

Noodles: It’s autumn, all of you.

Hi world. It’s me, your favorite super sheltered, extremely Scandinavian, strangely endearing pile of soggy, tomato-drenched crinkly noodles! Otherwise known as Baby Swedish Lasagna under an Inadequate Tent. The reason I bring up my origins is this: I grew up without hearing anyone say “y’all”. I believe the contraction never crossed my path outside of a book until middle school, when it became trendy among my equally sheltered, pale-skinned friends. I started saying it often, with little understanding of its pronunciation, spelling, or proper usage. At some point, perhaps in a fit of cultural sensitivity, maybe after the madness of middle school had seeped out of my neurons, I stopped using it. Except in emails. Yes, my friends, I am an email y’aller. It just works for the already-awkward group conversations. There’s honestly no equivalent in northern dialect. Check it out. “You guys.” Offensive to feminists. “You girls.” Offensive...

Sauce: Peeved - A Ditty.

Hello world, welcome to the dumbest thing I’ve ever written. It helps if you sing it with gusto. (Hint: UIKEYINPUTDOWNARROWgive “favorite” and “chocolate” three syllables.) Dun dun dun... ...If you’d rather eat spaghetti With butter, And if petting armadillos makes your bitty heart flutter, If you wear twenty-three inch plugs And you snack on creepy bugs, And you turn off the radio before Your very favorite song ends, If you dance to rapping only And you never just be lonely, Then I think we cannot ever quite be friends. If you like to play the tuba And get thrills at going scuba Diving with a pack of grumbly-tumbly sharks, If you stick Q-tips up your nose And knit socks for all your toes And deface all the bathrooms in the parks, If you get joy from picking peanuts Out from every tin of mixed nuts And don’t laugh at jokes that center on Depends, If you run away from cats And feed cho...

Noodles: There are just some things you can’t ask your doctor.

So you turn instead to Google and let your questions be seen by all the world, including snoops like me. I happened to look up a strange sensation I’ve been experiencing lately (yes, I do it too, and yes, I’m probably on the brink of death) that involves a crawling sensation on the back of my scalp. Since it’s not tick season, I assume it’s a tiny person attempting to scale my head in order to have a look around. Unfortunately, I wear a lot of hats this time of year so even if they make it to the top, they aren’t likely to see much. But that’s not the point. If you ask Google to give you any information involving tingling sensations and your own head, it will immediately throw at you a list of questions asked by similar unfortunate individuals, along with the all-knowing answers provided by an unspecified internet friend. Some of them make you shake your head in pity, such as this sad, lonely soul, who asks, “Can I test myself for a brain tumor?” The answer is undecided...

The Password’s Lasagna.

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