Looks like P. Diddy has got a lot of killing to do.
He warned us. Vote or Die.
The sad, pathetic thing is that a lot of Americans didn’t vote yesterday. We live in a free country where we are given the chance to vote for our leadership – using whatever archaic apparatus our state has chosen, be it punch cards, retina scans, a computer, a scantron, a sharpie marker and a piece of cardboard – and some people could care less.
It must be nice to be that utterly ignorant.
Welcome to four more years of Bush.
I am now rethinking that last bottle of wine we cracked open last night over fascinating talk of pregnant and hanging chads as states were slowly being illuminated in red and blue.
I am hungover. I know this because it is not even noon and I have had two breakfasts and a snack already. Plus, this morning I stumbled upon the dried up remains of nachos and half eaten box of Wheat Thins in the kitchen.
When I am drunk, I turn into a very hungry person. A person who will eat any and every thing.
I once found myself dipping tortilla chips in a tub of Land-O-Lakes margarine while waiting for my pizza to cook. And then taking that pizza and folding it in half like a giant calzone (it made sense at the time because the cheese was hot) and eating the entire thing.
My newest alcohol-induced culinary delight is my sloppy nachos. You pour some tortilla chips in a bowl, scoop in some of that cheese in a jar sold with the salsa, a couple table spoons of sour cream, a fistful of shredded cheddar cheese, and a generous helping of salsa. Mix with a wooden spoon, making sure to break the chips into bite-size pieces. Scoop with a ladle into bowls, and eat with a spoon.
For an extra special treat, a sprinkling of seasoned bits of chicken or taco meat would make a most excellent garnish.