Finally: The One About Cheese

The New Hotness is being seriously threatened by two things: 1) this gee dee cold, which I have now had for eleven-hundred years and counting and which is apparently immune to medication, rest, prayer, etc.; and 2) the fact that I can not stop stuffing cheese right down my piehole like it’s about to be taken away from me.

This reminds me of a conversation I had with the Mouse the other day, as most things do. We were discussing people who refer to the subway systems according to color. For those of you who don’t live in New York, this is incorrect. The subway goes by letter here, and even though the letter-signs are different colors, well, you just don’t call them that, OK?

In fact, “I never even think of them as being colors,” I said to the Mouse. He had two beers in front of him, for some unknown reason. This often happens to him, and I’m not sure exactly why. He’d say charm, I’m sure. Never trust a Mouse. “I know the F-train is orange and the ACE is … er, blue…”

“Yeah, yeah, and the 7 is purple and fat kids like pie. Doesn’t matter. We still don’t call them by their colors.”

Fat kids like pie? I ask you.

Where was I? Jeebus. Cold medicine. Anyway, cheese. I just ate a bag of shredded cheddar, which is totally not awesome for my gut, but which had immediate positive effects on my mood, so scrrrreeew.

I’m going to go lie down now.

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14 thoughts on “Finally: The One About Cheese

  1. Oopsie. I refer to the subway lines in NYC as colors. My excuse is that I’m from Boston, and the MBTA lines go by colors.

    Although, I guess that’s not much of an excuse, since you’re my sister, and therefore you are from Boston too. But I think you’ve always been a bit of a New Yorker. Luckily the baseball fan in you is alllll Boston. Phew!

  2. As a former member of the fat kid club, I can attest that not all of us like pie. McDonald’s was the major contributor in my case. And if I don’t start cooking and maybe clean the dust off my bowflex/coat rack, I’m going to be fat again.

    If your cold is really a problem, if nothing else can help, and if you can find it, maybe you can hire.. er try ephedrine. It is the stuff that Japanese kamikaze pilots used, so take it sparingly, and definately don’t take it in the afternoon, unless you like not sleeping. I guarantee no more sniffles.

  3. You’re out of luck. Seems New York doesn’t like the stuff. (PA also banned it, but that was later rescinded.) It’s probably just as well, you don’t seem to lack for nervous energy, and I’d hate to be responsible for making you a speed freak.

    P.S. Am I the only person who refreshes the page until an easy sobriety check comes up?

  4. I’m sober, but lazy. Especially when it comes up with what looks like phi or mu, or some other form of extended ascii. :p

  5. I’m sober, but lazy. Especially when it comes up with what looks like phi or mu, or some other form of extended ascii. :p

  6. I prefer the London method of giving them names, like Piccadilly line, Central line, etc. Can we rename the NYC lines something dorky? The Q line can become “Sparky” and the 7 train will heretofore be known as “Chad”.

  7. Don’t worry, they’ll never take your piehole away. Unless, of course, you get emphysema and have to breath through a hole in your neck. In that case you’ll have to liquify the pie. Which just goes to show: nobody can beat the Smash.

  8. I like pie but I’m not fat. In fact I’m from Pieeater land (Wigan).

    Nice blog by the way, I like the way you write, just the right balance of loathing.

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