First of all, fuck celery. It is crunchy wet grass as far as i’m concerned and a textural nightmare. The crunchy bits in this are replaced with slightly less crunchy, much more savory and flavorful bites of Doux South Angry Cukes, and Dutch Kettle Hot Pickled Okra.
I’ve never been a fan of potato salad until now. Something magical happened and I turned 30, then all of the sudden I love this shit and can appreciate it for what it is. Back in the day when this would have delighted the most discerning of professional Karens, I bet this traditional shit was a TREAT. Imagine having to grow your cucumbers and pickle them, make mayo with vinegar you brewed and eggs you collected. When you think about it like that….this shit should be a delicacy and shame on me for passing over it for so long.
So I have officially whored out this potato salad, sparing nothing and seasoning well for our own personal enjoyment. A testament to taking things and making them your own, and to not going back to the fucking Publix brand.
Also, I don’t measure worth a shit. Adjust all of these things to your liking, and use the basic ass recipe everyone else does.
Potatoes, obviously. Boiled in water, Goya Sazon seasoning packets, whatever leftover broth we had, chicken this time. Eggs, quite a few because I love eggs, boiled in water with baking soda added for easy peeling. THE SAUCE LINDA: Mayonesa, Yellow Mustard, Grey Poupon Dijon, diced Doux South Angry Cukes with a splashy splash of juice, chopped Dutch Kettle Hot Pickled Okra, Paprika ( My favorite is Spanish Pap, its smoky as HELL and hard to find, so I used Hungarian that Lauren gave me ), a hearty dash of your favorite vinegar (mine is amber), and a dash of salt if needed. Squish a few of the potatoes, like, slap them around a little bit before saucing them with a fork – or your fist, depending on what kind on day you’re having.
Fridge that guy and don’t store it in a reactive bowl. Use glass or plastic to avoid a metallic-y flavor. Add more crunch if you like, or add none and just dash the pickle juice in there if you have texture sensitivities.
Mayonesa, what the fuck is that? OH MY GOD. ITS THE BEST. Its Mexican mayo, its made with lime juice and it has a tang that is out of its gourd. I use it for EVERYTHING from Aoilis to sandwiches. This shit is important – find it in the regular condiment section of your local hood-ass grocery store, or in the international section in the uppity suburbs. I swear you’ll never go back and you will always have a backup in the cabinet.
Doux South Angry Cukes – Hands down the best pickles I have ever had. They are made in Georgia and you can find them at Publix in their locally grown section. We found them on clearance, a place I often find fantastic weird things to experiment with.
Dutch Kettle Hot Pickled Okra – If you’ve ever been to Florida or the Appalachian Mountains and stopped at one of the super cute General Stores, you’ve seen this brand. You just don’t know you’ve seen it. They also have the BEST Jalepeno Jelly – try that shit on a bagel with cream cheese and it will also change your life. They aren’t actually hot, just tasty as fuck.
So there you have it – nothing really new, nothing all that interesting. But its goddamn tasty & can be endlessly tailored to the shit you like!
NYC – the big ol’ BIG ol’ Apple. The amount of stress an anxiety I had was at about 110%, granted all the terrible things I have been told and had never truly left the Southeast. Although I had not considered who my sources were, rural Georgians and the occasional angry old white man in bars who cite the rapes and robberies of the long-ago dealt with crime issues. Always a fun interaction when you’re already nervous as hell, no?
Well, I went, I saw, I did. And to be perfectly frank, ya’ll can fuckin’ keep it. Keep the whole damn city. Ive been back several times, and each time my interest turns quickly into annoyance, and then just plain anger. Like, “lets go back to to the airBNB, sit on a bench and watch the fuckery go by as it screams exhaust fumes and hatred at you”.
No thanks. Also it smells like piss and garbage. *sorry not sorry*
Its just boxes of people, loud scary ass buses that may or may not plow you over at any minute, and the raccoons are size of Pit bulls with the attitude that says “you, yeah you, FUCK YOU” with one glance. Rats that are big enough to steal your toddler just pop out of nowhere, and not one single person in Flushing would speak to me. I guess the whole “fuck you this is New York” thing, stands mega true.
Not that any one individual was an outstanding asshole or anything, on an individual basis the people were super cool and friendly, unless they were a server at a restaraunt, in which case, every one of them was a cunty mc-cunt cunt.
Let me start off by saying ti was an amicable divorce, we’re friends and coparents and all that happy horse shit *modern family dream shit, ya dig*.
So on my way to meet ex-hubs-to-be at the lawyers office, I stopped at Kroger for a long-considered practical joke, for lack of a better term. Looking around at the small amount of cake choices the bakery had, I decided on a mermaid cake that had multi-colored interior and sprinkles on the outer sides. I made my decision and spotted the lady behind the counter and walked up with her with a big, half-baked, nervous smile and asked if she would write on the cake for me. She obliged and asked what I wanted.
I couldn’t help myself and told her gleefully I was going to a lawyer to sign my divorce papers and I wanted to take a “happy Divorce” cake. Her puzzled look gave away the fact that in whatever country she hailed from, divorce didn’t translate. She asked if I could spell it. “D-I-V- *ring ring*, shit, O-R-C-E”, I said, reaching for my phone that was violently buzzing and ringing. I answer only to find out that my appointment was at 9, not at 10, and yes they were aggravated with me, but yes they would wait on me. The puzzled cake-decorator did what she thought I had asked her to do, I thanked her, took the cake, and headed towards my hilarious freedom.
I arrived, went through the motions, discussed the things and laughed with them. Then we had cake. After that, ex-hubs and I talked in the parking lot for awhile, and discussed a few things and reminisced a tad. It was at this point that I realized the goddamn cake was spelled wrong, and I was somewhere between crushed at the fact my thing I had planned for so long wasn’t right, and falling in the floor crying with how ironic it was that the cake was fucked up. To which ex-hubs says, “yeah, I saw it. But you were entirely too pleased with yourself so I didn’t say anything.”
What I came home to after a hard day of triumphs, failures, and hilarity. 🙂
I say album art because this is what I was listening to at the time. It’s quite an enjoyable album that pretty much has something for everyone. The name of the album is Love Story and it’s by Yelawolf. You might remember the song “Til it’s Gone” from the feature on a super important episode of Sons of Anarchy (god that show was a fucking ride on my EMOTIONS MAN). My personal faves off the album (not in any particular order): “change”, “American you” (I’d start with American you), “til it’s gone” is good shit, for you Eminem lovers, as we know, Em produced Yela and is on the track “Best Friend”, ooh god the song “Heartbreak” is FUCKING LIT, and “Tennessee love”, “love story”, and “box Chevy V” … shut the whole albums lit what am I talking about 😁
I started this blog when pregnant with my second daughter…2.5 years ago. And left it and and never made it back. I’M BACK BITCHES! What’s changed? Well, damn near everything. Here’s a dang list: Divorced, new wonderful life partner person, kids in school, quit my day job, and started living FOR MY DAMN SELF. My kids are happier, ex-hubs is happier, and I’m literally living my childhood dreams of being an artist and entrepreneur. And you know what? There’s nothing better in this world than letting go of people who don’t have your best interest at heart and putting yourself first for a change.
Don’t get all fucky and like “MERRR your children come first,” because that’s bullshit. If you can’t take care of yourself, and you don’t love yourself first – HOW THE FUCK can you teach little humans to love themselves? If I was still a martyr without a life of my own, my girls would have done the same old shit and been submissive to a man like I was and like the mothers before her. and FUCK. THAT. SHIT. We will NOT be subservient, we will not heed your demands, and we will question EVERYTHING.
I am literally losing my freakin’ mind about this. The 23&me testing kit just came on the mail last night. I took a photo of it- opened the box, and read the directions. I registered my barcode and said they could keep the sample for further analysis for research or whatever.
What my struggle here is, is that I am fuckin terrified. I have lived my entire life up until 12 weeks from now not knowing anything about where I came from- and also not caring too much because it never occurred to me that finding these other people was a real option. I used to care from time to time and even did a little research like calling the adoption agency and getting he paperwork to open he file whatever whatever … I never sent it in. So…
Here I am. I drank a little too much tea, smoked a bowl with my best friend, listened to Daniel Tosh’s new standup album with my husband (who bought me this test kit by total surprise)…(might have I mentioned I have been a bit snippy to recently)…and am now running out the clock smoking a bit more waiting to go coach the last soccer practice. THANK god it’s the last one. We are at he end of our ropes with this shit 😩*sigh*.
So I’m having a good day man. Oh I looked at houses on Zillow too. Anyway- I keep wondering what I will do with this information when I get it. Will I feel differently? Like….about myself and who I am and shit? I guess I’m going to find out if ignorance is bliss or not in about 12 weeks.
UPDATE I have no fucking family on record anywhere in their database. But I’m Irish as shit. Like super Irish. With Roma gypsy 3rd cousins. Well shit