I have a friend with a house that I frequently find myself occupying. My care taking has various levels of difficulty. Sometimes I have plants or fish or cats or dogs, and sometimes all of the above. My occupancy has always been a great way to catch up on laundry, stuff my belly with the chocolaty payment she left out on the counter for me, and indulge in the world of fast Internet.
Her fridge always has the latest artwork by her nephew, so I have gotten in the habit of leaving a drawing of my own behind. My art and children's art greatly complement each other. If I printed text on mine, the two would be virtually indistinguishable. Age and skill level interchangeable.
This last weekend I ate bowl after bowl of Captain Crunch (purchased solely for my arrival) but something stood in the way of my enjoyment. The soup spoon. I don't understand why these things exist. Maybe I have a small mouth. But it doesn't seem to make sense that a piece of hard, flat metal should be that wide when entering the soft tissues of your mouth. Is it supposed to fit? Are you just supposed to slurp the soup from the gargantuan surface?
Anyway... I ended up with a soup spoon and shot an e-mail to my friend to give her shit about her choice of cutlery. She responded with a plethora of other options in the spoon department. I told her I would illustrate my response:
I'm pretty sure this story ends with me waking up to three bears, pissing my pants and running home crying like a school girl.
Or maybe I am just going to the Grizzly Bear concert at the end of the month.
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