The Cheeseblog

At last, my falafel, I have eaten you! Days of longing can now be replaced with days of contentment.

A girl I once admired for her soccer skill is happier than stink at the local mall. A woman who had twin boys older than me, one of whom died in a car accident shortly after he got married, was at the mall as well. She has lost 50 lbs and has stayed the same height. She has acquired a cane and a hunch in her shoulders. She never got around to getting dentures. She is angry and smells of stale smoke.

It has become boring to have conquered my cheese addiction. I want some sort of tangible difference to appear…or else I will get tired of being the same, just without cheese and then eat a lot of it and probably make myself sick.

A squirrel winked at me today. I think he knew.

in a few minutes I am going to have what passes for supper in my world. Chips – the good kind – with chili on top – homemade of course – baked in the toaster oven. Do you see? Do you see what is missing? Is it possible to see something that is missing? Perhaps it has ceased to exist if it is no longer visible or attainable.

Is it possible to respect the holy trinity if the holy spirit is missing? Or the father? How can you eat chips with chili and no cheese? I even have cheddar in my fridge so I could put some on…just a sprinkle. But I won’t.

Though I am resentful of my own cheeselimitation, I am not having too much trouble with not eating it. I haven’t fallen off the cheesewagon once. This morning, though, it occured to me that maybe the reason I was in such a foul mood yesterday afternoon is because cheese = fat and fat feeds the brain with yummy things like good moods and without cheese I would be doomed to be a nasty horrible misanthrope. Then I remembered that I am always, with some exceptions (weddings, puppies, drunk strangers) a nasty, horrible misanthrope. Hooray! It’s not the cheese’s fault. It is probably the traffic’s fault.

Hello! Do you drive in the city, in the fall? OK! Slow down or you will die! Every day at 4 pm I hear sirens and there is an accident on the highway, which I can see from my kitchen window as I do the dishes (which are not sticky with cheese huzzah!). Some idiot is driving too fast and hits some other people and bahhhhhhhhhm that is the end of your day and some other peoples’. Plus I can’t hear my Sloan! if the sirens are going. C’mon c’mon!

I was right! These people say that 21 days is the right amount of time to give something up. Like, say, cheese.

Samosas are good and cheese free. I just ate two delicious veggie samosas. The catt has taken to eating cheese right in front of me now: he is indeed brave. Laugh while you can, kitty-boy.

Oh, and it’s day 9. I figured y’all could count along with the dates…now that cheeseblog is ::fleh:: and all. You are smart pachooties, yes?

cheese Art! Sort of. This might be the reason I don’t want any cheese right now.

radio paradise is playing Screenwriter’s Blues by Soul Coughing RIGHT NOW.
If I lived in Los Angeles, cheese would be the least of my worries.