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On smelling like peppers

Earlier today I took a shower because I’m a go-getter and as soon as the water hit my skin, which is nubile and supple, by the way, everything began smelling intensely of bell peppers and my fear —that I’ve been walking around smelling like a pepper—was confirmed. “This is as I feared!” I yelled into the drain, as the heady and intoxicating elixir slid off my skin like so many burritos.

As I sit here typing this, smelling not of peppers but of the vacuum left behind when one’s peppery perfume is robbed of them by a cold blast of ruthless water, I feel naked. I also feel like I have a headache. I do in fact have a headache, probably because I have my hair in rollers atop my head and the weight of the rollers is putting strain on my already overburdened brain.

But rollers aren’t very heavy, you are likely thinking.

But see, I’m not using rollers, I’m using turnips.

Bet you thought I was going to say I was using peppers? You don’t know me at all!

So how am I cooking these stinky fruits? And they are fruits technically according to wikipedia. If you’re imagining that I’m preparing some kind of fancy thing with rice and beef and tomatoes and egg and bread crumbs and sesame seeds and basil and brown sugar and marjoram and margarine and sunflower seeds and figs and dates and oysters and tomato juice and stewed prunes and avocados and abogados (Spanish lawyers) and albodingas (Spanish soup) and elbows (elbows) and elbow macaroni and Terrytown, Pennsylvania (it just seemed to fit there) and Dracula (because Terrytown made me think of Transylvania) and lightbulbs (because Transylvania made me think of Sylvania) and the New York dolls (because Sylvania made me think of Sylvain Sylvain) and Patty Hearst (I’m no longer going to say what’s making me think of what and you see if you can figure it out) and NewsCorp and uh oh, nothing else is coming to me.

Anyway, you’re wrong so just hold it right there, Charley.

In fact, I just cut up the peppers and get rid of the seeds (I like to plant them in a trash can) and then microwave them. If what you’re looking for is soft, mushy peppers that will stay on your skin for weeks, that’s what you’ll get. Then I eat them with ketchup, have sex with a blood relative and call it a night.

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An Open Letter to My Sister Who Is At A Hockey Game Which Is Weird Since I Don't Think She Likes Hockey That Much But Hey, I Could Be Wrong

So last night I logged on to my computer and went to Facebook and was surprised to see I had a bunch of messages and requests since I hardly ever use Facebook but anyway I approved a few requests, surprised that a couple of them were from people who know YOU, but then sometimes your friends track me down and also, we sometimes share friends just like we “share” a computer and by that I mean you check your email on my computer often, which I am totally okay with, in fact often I will tell you to look at my computer because there is a particularly cute Tobey video on there, etc. ANYWAY, after approving a few friends and adding an application because what the hell, right, I realized that this was YOUR profile I was logged in as—you must have been on there earlier and not signed out. Surprise, you have some new friends and an application! Also, you might be a member of a club. Let me know how that goes!

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