Cheeseblarg's Guide to Guilt-Free Holidays

I'm very helpful, I know you all will agree, so this holiday season, I've brought you 7 surefire ways to avoid the guilt that tends to plague us around this time of the year. Having a happy holiday, whatever you might celebrate, is a great way to start a new year, so without further ado, 7 guilt-free holiday tips, right this way!

-One-

Don't feel guilty about eating food. Just don't. That is one of the choices you can make. The holidays are about enjoying stuff... why let feeling bad ruin that? When it comes to food guilt, just say no.

Because you can choose not to feel guilty for eating ALL THE FOODS!

-Two- 

But what if someone tries to guilt you for eating food?

If I had a million dollars for every time someone put out food and then asked me snidely, "do you really NEED to eat that?" I would have enough money to get a really good defense lawyer for stabbing them all with my fork.

Here are some good responses if you encounter this kind of bullshit this holiday season:

Say yes cheerfully (and then shove the food in your mouth). 

Deliver a simple "nope" (and then shove the food in your mouth anyway).

Tell the inquirer to fuck his/herself (also shove the food in your mouth).

-Three- 

Don't eat babies. Eating babies generally upsets people and you should totally feel guilty about it, you monster. What's wrong with you?

-Four- 

Enjoy everything you can because this time of the year is full of so much deliciousness. I mean, the holidays are about getting together and eating things... or eating alone at home with no pants on while watching Netflix with your cats.

You're making them wear holiday costumes anyway, you might as well have some spiked eggnog while you, Fluffernutter, and Mr. Whiskers binge watch Supernatural.

-Five- 

Don't kick orphans. This makes most people feel pretty guilty during the holidays, again, for good reason. Perhaps you could buy some toys for underprivileged kids or maybe just watch this Toys for Tots commercial with the kid who asks the Marine if he's Santa and cry on your cat.

I'm not kidding, I cannot watch this commercial without crying. *wipes eyes on Stevie*

-Six- 

Don't buy clothes in the wrong size (in the hopes of fitting into them) to stress yourself out before holiday parties. Seriously, having to spend time with people who take out their life's unhappiness on other people is NOT the time to sabotage any vestiges of your own happiness.

-Seven- 

Don't be the person who tells other people that they should feel guilty this holiday season. People remember they are expected to feel guilty, I promise. They don't need you to tell them. They also don't need you to bring celery to holiday parties, not because it's delicious and delightfully crunchy, but because you have appointed yourself the diet fairy who has arrived in order to keep everyone from eating delicious fatty food.

Vegetables are not above shaming you.

 Leave festive people alone...unless they're eating a baby or kicking orphans... then you can totally remind them that everyone thinks they're awful!

And with all that said, may your holidays be merry and bright and completely free of guilt!

Share if you're against banality.

Okay, this has reached a fever pitch that I can no longer ignore.

I saw this posted on Facebook today:

At which point, I was forced to point out the fact that I don't know a single person that is FOR animal cruelty. I mean, I understand the sentiment, but EVERYONE, when they really think about it is against animal cruelty... or at least everyone on Facebook. I have never met a single person who has declared on their social media, "I love beating the shit out of lizards!"

Yes, there are people who commit animal cruelty, and they TOTALLY suck, but even if they go into it thinking "ANIMAL CRUELTY IS MY FAVORITE!" are they going to be swayed by a graphic on Facebook?!

"Dang, I was gonna flog this goat, but Facebook overwhelmingly doesn't like animal cruelty, so cuddle it is!"

As a protest to stupid, obvious AGAINST graphics, I have made a few of my own. Please, feel free to share them passive aggressively!

Also, my mom thinks I am going to get in trouble for my "fire/babies/stabbing" joke, so don't prove her right, damn it.

Truth in Advertising- Glucosulin

This commercial from Glucosulin, a super duper magic pill to make diabetics lose weight, is providing my husband and me with unending amusement every time it comes on. Beyond the fact that it is almost guaranteed that it doesn't work (which is beyond the point), I have no idea who approved their animation for "weight loss." Seriously... it could not have been anyone with any sense.  At all.

Below, I have edited the commercial to share what it sounds like in my house every time it airs.

(RSS readers, there is a video here, come watch it!)

(original source)

Pintester Movement - Cheese Porn

So, Sonja Foust, over at Pintester.com has started The Pintester Movement, which is a concerted effort to try Pinterest Pins and post about them, and I figured I would use it as an excuse to try some pins that I have on my Pinterest "Nom Nom *Chomp*" board, because it was something to do, and I always find myself putting off making things that I really want to eat because it takes effort.

The problem is, I am too awesome for this project. Or else I only pin things that are well within my scope of abilities. Notice there are no pins of things that require dipping or patience, ala How Not to Make Cake Pops. I know that making cake pops (which I just typoed cakepoops, clearly a Freudian slip, because we all know how I feel about those asshole treats), will make me want to stab people, so I chose something amazingly easy, and excelled at doing as little as possible, as the recipe demanded.

Recently, I found the food blog "Oh Bite It!" It is like my foodie spirit animal. Every post has bacon, or fried, or some sort of combination of butter and sugar, and that really speaks to me, in an OMG PUT THE FOOD IN MY MOUTH, sort of way. At this point, I have stopped pinning all the things I want to make from that website because my entire food board would be filled with her recipes.

The pin I chose to test for the Pintester Movement maiden voyage into the waters of possible fail, was "Oh Bite It"'s Grilled Cheese Pull-Apart Rolls, mostly because I miss grilled cheese so much, and any promise that something will taste like grilled cheese, while not causing my insides to try to kill me is something I am going to want in my mouth. I also thought it was kind of appropriate for da Cheeseblarg.

So I followed the directions, which are basically, open a can of biscuits without having a heart attack (almost failed on that one), flatten canned biscuit, stuff that motherfucker with velveeta cheese, pincha-pincha-pincha, drown in butter, and bake.

I made half the recipe because there were only two people eating it and I was also making pizza soup to go with it, because half a pound of cheese in bread is apparently not a full meal.

Only the rolls took 40 minutes more to cook through than the instructions lead me to believe, and when I tasted them finally, they tasted like canned biscuits stuffed with velveeta cheese, and not so much like grilled cheese. I was slightly disappointed, even though they were really easy to make. But then, the next night, having the leftovers, because I could only eat one roll the night before, reheated in the microwave, they tasted exactly like a grilled cheese sandwich, and all was redeemed.

That means I will be making these again, and I have complete faith that I will enjoy anything that Oh Bite It comes up with.

This image makes no sense, I just wanted to draw myself in a cute polka dotted bathing suit.

The biscuits' identities have been hidden for their safety.

When Fruit Cups Attack

So I got these delicious sounding Del Monte cinnamon peach fruit cups on clearance. I was going to eat one while laying in bed watching Buffy the Vampire Slayer (up to season 5, whew hew), and I know they have a tendency to burble over some when you open them because of the vacuum seal, so I set myself up with a towel over my chest/neck, and slowly peeled the plastic lid off the cup.

 Apparently, this cup was SUPER vacuum-sealed because I was treated to a powerful nasal douche of cinnamon peach juice to my sinuses. I was amused, but also quite uncomfortable nasally. It was delicious (since I ate the cup after cleaning up the incident, the post nasal drip was a little off putting though), however I wish they opened without exploding and/or squirting long distances. Especially since they are for kids, or for adults who eat fruit cups in bed while watching supernatural shows made for kids.

 Also, I've passed this on to Del Monte and asked them if I could send them my doctor's bills  if I get a sinus infection from the peach cinnamon sugar water still lingering inside my face, but they are staunchly ignoring me, just like all the boys I ever loved...


Most hilarious comment when I posted about it on Facebook:

Just proves that no matter how well you prepare for a known eventuality, the universe is just going to shoot cinnamon peach juice up your nose anyway. - Lora-Lee

Chicken Butt

My nephew is now in the habit of greeting me with the following each afternoon when I pick him up  from school. It is my least favorite game of all.

Special Secret Family Recipe

Any time I hear about meat that is made from a "special secret family recipe," my brain immediately translates that as "IT'S MADE OF HUMANS!"

Ask me no questions.

I have a problem.  It seems, sometimes, like the words that I say are translated to the people around me by an utterly drunken bunch of babel fish.  I understand that it could be my tone of voice, or a look on my face, but people regularly translate questions I ask into demands.

It is very frustrating and causes a lot of arguments. And while I could just stop asking questions, I suppose, and stare dumbly out the window at all times, ignoring the world around me, I am a question asker by nature.  If I don't understand what is going on around me, I ask.
Apparently, other people don't do this and instead use questions as some passive aggressive message delivery system, from the responses I get, because I rarely just get an actual response to my questions... from anyone.  Everyone seems to be trying to figure out the secret code in my question in an attempt to figure out what my implication is, and all I get are scoffs when I explain that I am really JUST asking questions.  Now, if I ever got an actual answer, I might make a request using the information I received...

But most of the time, I would most likely respond with a simple "Oh, okay. Thanks."

Super Sneaky Lard-O-Matic

As much as I don't like offending other people, I find that just being me tends to do it sometimes. As I alluded to in "When Food Attacks," I don't diet. Beyond my base objections to it, I have a billion allergies and food intolerances and a disease that made me starve for 6 years as a result, so I'm not interested in denying myself food by choice. In general, I tell people this once and they leave me alone, but sometimes, strangers like to be helpful, noticing that I am what people consider 'OMG SO FAT!' and assume that I am obviously dieting and need their helpful advice, which I don't. I've learned from this that it really freaks people out when you respond to secret special diet information with, "Oh, thanks, no, I don't diet." It's this scandalous moment when I could have just as easily said, "Oh, no thank you, do you have grandchildren? I would like to roast them and eat them while baying at the moon, naked."

I know that it is easier sometimes to just nod and wander away, but some people just won't leave it alone.

The diet conspiracy lady approached me several years ago in the frozen food aisle of a Publix Supermarket. I had to work the next day and didn't feel like making myself lunch and so I was looking at the huge selection of frozen entrees that were on sale. I stood there, slack jawed, looking at all the different varieties wondering if any of them were actually palatable. Crazy diet lady sidles up to me. 'Oh lord, she is gonna start talking to me,' I realize after I've made accidental eye contact with her.
"A lot of choices, huh?"
Fuck... fine, my fault for looking at her, "Sure are. Do you know if any of these actually taste good?"
"I mean, some of them are okay, I've been trying to drop those last 20 pounds so I know this one is pretty good, very low fat, but you don't want those, you want these," and she motions over to a freezer full of a popular diet company's dinners which happen to be 3 times more expensive than the ones I was looking at. I look over, smile and nod politely and try to steer my way back to the sale dinners. "These," she points to more low calorie meals, "you should NEVER get these."
"Oh," I say.
"Oh, yes, I heard, " she says, leaning in, "That they SNEAK calories into their food."
"Oh, I'm not worried about calories..."
"What!?" she sounds nervous.
"I, uh, I don't diet. I was just looking for something that was cheap and fairly tasty."
"Oh," she says. "Oh..." and she grabs her cart and scampers away, looking back at me like I just admitted I like licking kitten feet.

Which, with their forays into litter boxes, I totally am not into.

As much as it may be your urge, I am not interested (still) in debating the topic of dieting. At all. Still a humor blarg.  And "OMG SO FAT" is not an insult in my eyes so no need to try to reassure me.  I am quite content in my body, no matter what the size. That is all.

The Value of Pie

There are a few books from my early childhood that really influenced who I am as a person (and a writer, I suppose). Each taught me things that formed my personality and sense of humor.

The King Who Rained by Fred Gwynne

One of my very favorite books EVER.  Beautiful illustrations, and very funny. The King Who Rained is full of homophone humor that instilled in me a love of word play and of picturing things in the funniest way possible. I guess I stole my whole schtick from this book, looking back at it.

Tikki Tikki Tembo by Arlene Mosel

This book appealed to me because it had such beautiful stylized illustrations and a cute story based on repetition. I remember it being read to us in the library, possibly by my mom, possibly by the librarian;  It was a long time ago. I learned from it to be succinct in my writing and speech, to get my point across when it was most important.

Where the Sidewalk Ends 

So many people love this book by Shel Silverstein, so I do not really have to expound upon its appeal. I did learn from it, though, that poems are better funny than serious, and dear lord, if I had only remembered that lesson in my mopey high school and college years when I wrote terrible embarrassing beat poetry that I, at least, had the decency to avoid reading aloud at the many awful and painful poetry readings I attended.

Amelia Bedilia by Peggy Parish

I never actually read this book, but it taught me a very important lesson.  And that lesson is, some people are total jerks and suck at their jobs and will shirk their own professional responsibilities off onto first graders instead of actually taking responsibilities for their own mistakes.

Obviously, there is more to this story.

When I was in first grade at Maryland Elementary School in Phoenix, Arizona, I loved reading and I utilized the school library as much as I was allowed.  Being the nerdpants I have always been, I was very respectful of the rules and always made sure I got my books back on time, because that was the rule of checking things out in the library, and you're supposed to follow rules.

Now this was a time when computers were things that took up entire rooms and were not available for frivolous things like library catalogs, and so everything was done by hand. You would write your name on the book's call card and the librarian would take the card out of the little pocket in the back and she would replace the card with a brightly colored piece of paper that was covered in rows of date stamps, and you would look at the last stamp on the page and that would be when you had to have your book back by... or else!

And so it happened one day, when the library sent their little slips to the teachers that kindly reminded the students that they had clearly not paid close enough attention to the OR ELSE caveat of borrowing books, and imparted to them that in their joy of reading, they had forgotten to bring back their books on time, that I found myself totally confused at receiving a slip that called for me to return "Amelia Bedilia" immediately.  I had never heard of this woman nor the book telling of her, and so I may have just ignored it, knowing it was quite obviously a mistake.

Until I went to check out another book.

The head librarian at Maryland Elementary was not the nicest lady in the world which is a nice way of saying, she was kind of a heinous bitch.  She was, in fact, the very same librarian who had been a terrible ogre when my dad had attended Maryland Elementary school 20 years earlier  And the problem was, she seemed to hate children, which is not the greatest personality trait for someone who works almost entirely with children, but these things happen.

Standing there with a book in my little hands, I pushed it over the checkout desk, eager to devour its story, only to have the crotchety old librarian cruelly tell me that I was banned from checking out books. I stood looking at her bewildered and then, she pulled out a call card. "Amelia Bedilia" she said, waving it in front of my face. I screwed up my face not understanding how this happened.

"But I never checked that book out.  I wouldn't know Amelia Bedilia if I fell over her!"

"Well, here is your name, in your handwriting on the card!"  And it was, it really was.

"But I didn't check that book out! The wrong card must have been put in the back of the book I checked out. I meant to sign for that one, and I returned that one, on time. I really did!"

And she looked at me, only considering what I said for a split second before she told me that it was my responsibility to check the call cards in books I checked out and that I would have to pay to replace Amelia Bedilia before I could check out any other books because I had signed for it, which seemed ridiculously unfair to me.  Even at that young age, I recognized that it was her responsibility, as the adult and the librarian, to make sure her library was in order, and her mistake was now costing me actual money (that is hard to come by when you are six) and was denying me the ability to fill my head with fanciful stories and beautiful illustrations and important information about narwhals that I would need later in life.


For many years, I held a grudge against Ms. Bedilia, which is a shame, because it was just the sort of silliness that I should have loved- a series based around a maid who had no grasp of idioms and so did exactly as told "dress the turkey for dinner, draw the curtains, etc." And THEN she manages not to get fired each time by making a super tasty pie.  Imagine the life lessons I could have learned from that!

Isla de la Comida Robada

I'd like to talk for a moment about one of the most terrifyingly unsettling members of our society.  As usual, it is a commercial that reminds me, because I watch a lot of commercials while I am not paying attention to the TV, whilst screwing around online, but I digress.

While I am a peace-loving, Pollyanna, give-everyone-the-benefit-of-the-doubt type of girl, I think that people who habitually and purposely steal other peoples' lunches in the work place are bad bad people.

Seriously, and I am not talking about, "starving, come in off the street, just need something to eat."  I'm talking about the kind of sociopath who has a job, money, and a lunch hour where they could go purchase their own food, or order take out, and yet, there they are, stalking through the lunches of their coworkers, stealing food for the sheer thrill of doing so.  These people are untrustworthy douchebags and should be shunned from society.

I mean, what has to be going through their heads?  They work with their victims.  They are committing their crime in a public area.  People look forward to lunch.  They know what they brought to eat. It is just unconscionable.

The best (and most logical) punishment, in my estimation, is a Lord of the Flies/ LOST sort of scenario in which discovered lunch thieves are placed on a desert island and all forced to make elaborate, delicious lunches each day, which they then put in a refrigerator that is routinely raided by crazed monkeys or possibly genetically-engineered dinosaurs, leaving them having to eat grubs and coconut milk for eternity.

They should also be fired.

Happy Llama Mama Day!

To all the moms out there, and my mom too (I love you, Mommy!), I hope you have a wonderful mother's day!

And remember, listen to Mr. T, and treat your mother right!

p.s. I've redone the layout making it "custom"-- praise me... or else. =P

If you thought I was a freak before...

I, now, am both afraid of telling you guys things about me that are "controversial," since I lost at least 6 followers for revealing that I don't want to procreate, and I, alternatively, want to tell you things to weed out the people who just can't read things by people who _______________ (fill in the blank).  That being said, I have a terrible secret to share with you all, and if you have to go, I understand (actually, no I don't.... but, whatever) so here goes:

I... I don't drink coffee OR alcohol.

I know, start throwing crap at me now, but not literally, that is super gross.

For the record, I like coffee, it tastes hella delicious, mostly-- when heavily diluted with cream and sugar, but drinking it makes my stomach and/or intestines wage war on me.
Alcohol, on the other hand, does exactly the same thing to me but also makes me feel like I am completely drunk from the moment it touches my lips and though I have only been actually drunk one time in my life for real, a time when I threatened my friend with a knife while doing dishes because he tried to convince me to be logical when I was having a total emotional freakout, which is what brought on the drinking of Chambord and cream in the first place (see, I can't even make logical decisions of what kinds of alcohol to drink), I decided I probably didn't need to test my ability to act not completely insane while drunk, ever again.

I found out, recently, that both aversions are actually the result of a food intolerance, but that doesn't make up for the fact that not drinking coffee or alcohol really cuts down on your ability to socialize.  Nobody asks people out to go get a glass of bacon (and if they did, I assure you I would be totally up for it) it's always chatting over a cup of joe, or a glass of wine, or a fifth of whiskey.

But really, if  you're still reading this and haven't decided that I am so untrustworthy that you can't bear to ever read my blarg again, ask me to hang out and chat over a hot cup of bacon. I'm totally there.

Offer for social engagements of bacon consumption are subject to terms and conditions. May not be available in your area. Candy can be substituted for bacon in some situations.

Dirty, dirty baby-hater!

I don't have any children.  I don't want to have any children. I’m not going to have children.

I like kids just fine (as should be evident by how much I adore my nephew), but I like kids when they are able to reliably use the bathroom on their own, and are able to be reasoned with.
Little itty bitty babies, on the other hand, scare the living hell out of me.

In the past, people have given me the "OMG how can you not like babies!? You were once a baby!" argument and I don't even know what kind of logic that is supposed to be. If I once had the flu, would I have to like sick people? Because I don’t. I can commiserate with them that we both were sick (or babies) once, but that doesn’t make me like them by default.

In actuality, I once had a boss threaten to fire me because I let it be known that I don't like babies.  It's not like I was punching babies, or threatening to eat babies, or had any plans to be menacing towards babies, I just simply said, while doing an exercise talking about fears "GHA! I hate babies, they scare the crap out of me!" which I didn't realize was such a controversial statement until I was counseled the next day for being a 'dirty dirty baby hater.'  I MIGHT have also drawn a picture to go along with the exercise personifying my fear (which was also part of the assignment- to draw your fear as a monster) that looked something like this:

But I still assert that it does not make me fire-worthy.

Let me make it clear, it is not like I sat down one day and made a conscious choice not to enjoy babies. I didn't have any baby trauma, they just aren't my thing and never have been.

And again, I am not against the idea of babies. I don't sit around thinking about ways to conquer babies. I have no problem with other people having them, and loving them, and being excited by them, except that people get very upset with you if you don't actively participate in the sport of adoring the crap out of them… and I don’t.

When Food Attacks!

Many, many years ago, I stopped assigning moral value to food. Nommy noms are no longer "good" or "bad," they are just food.  Cakes aren't sinful, candy bars aren't naughty, carrot sticks aren't chaste, lettuce doesn't make me worthy of love and praise. I eat food and it is just food, and my life is infinitely happier that way.  As I always say, the only thing you should ever feel guilty about eating is babies.

Since I've chosen to surround myself with people who feel the same for so long, it is now really foreign to me when I go visit food blogs full of amazing, delicious-looking pictures like those at Willow Bird Baking or I Am Baker and people in the comments talk about how dangerous the food is.  My mind automatically pictures little cake truffle gangs, or confectioneries with bombs strapped to their bodies.

Really, the only dangers inherent to food that I am willing to acknowledge are a) allergies, b) spoilage/poisoning and/or c) inhaling it into your lungs by accident, which I tend to do way too often for my own liking.


No really, that is all I am willing to acknowledge. Humor blarg. Serious debate is prohibited. As is the "D" word...