Fridge Poetry Foils Munchies again

There are few things I love more in life then that moment when your stomach takes over and suddenly everything in life becomes centered around preparing and devouring the next meal. Which normally at 3 am for me is ideally personified in the image of a brownie (or blondie, i’m not picky.) with some nice strawberries off to the side and a dollop of  cookie dough ice cream.

I’m so glad I live in a world where ice cream exists. Which led me last night to a rather long tangential exploration of the internet and the world of food, and ice cream it turns out has been around FOR LIKE EVER. Ok so it was not all like pasteurized milk based deliciousness, but early ice cream involved ice or snow mashed up with berries, honey and spices. Apparently emperor NERO (now my Hero) used to dine on this stuff on the daily.

(Like look at that ice creamy double chin. loves it)

But my mildly manic munchie means last night were thwarted by fridge poetry, and also a general lack of any of the aforementioned food stuffs in my fridge. considering in all other aspects of my life i teeter on the edge of being a full blown horder, it always amazes me how incapable I am of keeping a fridge even mildly stocked with midnight treats.

This could also be because I am staying with a friend at the moment and out powers combined seem to limit us to a life of not actually doing much in the ways of hunting for food. We are defiantly the type of people who might starve at a buffet just because we were lounging in the other room. we spend hours pouring over takeout menus only to realize by the time we have decided that yes we do want an almost prodigious amount of dumplings that the place has stopped delivering.

BUT none of this mattered last night, because we had fridge poetry. I’ve never really had a magnetic fridge and THUS I had no idea what I was missing, but it turns out what I was missing was awesome fun poetry times.

instagram makes everything better

Which then led to fridge poetry Haikus

Which then led to the less intelligent decision given the hour that if I had another bowl I could probably come up with something like really deep and stuff, you know the type of fridge poetry I could put in an anthology and have some one like Sharon Olds would beg me to write the really breathtakingly beautiful introduction for it. Considering that the better part of a first bow topped with a lack of ice-cream had produced such works that speak volumes of my general overwhelming desire to sleep with everything moving at the moment,  (in large part due to the fact that everyone in NYC is like redonkulousssly attractive.) I am not particularly surprised that the second batch of fridge poetry was much the same, except it took me like hours to write, while I lay on the floor mesmerized by word combo’s like astronaut pants.

I love that fridge poetry has the world laser.


anyway… I’m a gona go get that ice-cream now.


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