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Thursday, March 25, 2010

Serving up a bowl of tears



You know when you are a kid (or adult) and something happens where you start crying and then you start crying even harder because you feel bad for yourself for crying so hard and this goes on for about 15 minutes until you become numb and breath long lip quivering moans between your tears which turn into stuttering breaths? Then, somehow at the end of all that you begin to wonder why you even began crying at all with the realization that life really isn't as bad as it seemed in the last 15 minutes and ideas come to you about how to pick yourself up by your bootstraps and get it together. I am pretty sure this was the tearful storm that brewed in Marie T Smith's cat filled kitchen before she looked up and saw the light that was her microwave. That beacon of radiation filled hope that said to her "fuck filling the lonely hours of your life doing something useful with your time like cooking...pop that steak in the microwave and call it an ambien-induced night".

5 comments:

  1. Marie T Smith is secretly wishing she was cooking for 2, maybe even 4, people. Look at those portion sizes!! Don't eat your feelings Marie, you sad lonely soul, you.

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  3. I have had many a days where heave crying was just the norm. Amit or Kanch would walk by and hear the sounds of what sounded like a dog searching for her last breathes of air. As being sadly watched or ignored, im not sure, flashbacks of a long piece of leather with a shiny buckle attached to it added intensity to heaving.
    Leave it to good ol Marie to create 5 minute steak and the 30 minute Thanksgiving dinner as her coping method.
    Why couldn't God have blessed me with such coping tactics. Of course it was country bumkin Marie. Of course!
    All is have is mascara stains on my on 10 year old little mermaid pillow cases!
    PS>> is it safe to say that she may be addition to the cause to the spread of cancer?

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  4. Um...ya! Her ulterior motive is to kill everyone through the seemingly helpful microwave. Hell hath no fury like a woman scorned. She may be eating alone but she chews each broccoli piece knowing they will all die together!

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