Iceblink Luck

Sometimes a magical miracle comes along that pushes an already sweet life right into overdrive and this weekend, that miracle was the discovery that Damn Good Beef Jerky is readily available right here in Vermont. Previously only available via expensive online orders I can now get it anywhere! In stores! In gas stations! Everywhere! The WORLD HEADQUARTERS is only two hours from here, and I’m tempted to show up to demand a tour and a lifetime supply of teriyaki flavor. I know I’ve talked about this before, but if you’re a fan of beef jerky, this is the Cadillac of beef jerkies, if you will. Side effects include Stay Puf-like bloating and puffiness from vastly increased salt intake, but let me be the first to tell you that it’s totally worth it. I can’t button my pants right now, but I’m quite satisfied.

Anyway, how are you? How was your Easter? We completely ignored/forgot that it was a holiday until we attempted to go to the grocery store and were DENIED because everyone else was at home eating a pineapple-glazed ham and searching for eggs. Ultimately, we ended up doing our best to make the newly resurrected Jesus proud with some leftover pizza and beer. Festive!

And if you were wondering, as I was, the Miller “Chill” chelada-style beer is foul. Always the marketer’s wet dream, I had fantasies of a salty-sweet beer experience — like a Corona rimmed with salt and lime mixed with a margarita. It is not, as they promised, muy refreshing, and in fact, is muy disgusting, but I’m not sure what I expected from a Miller Light product, really. Do you have something you’d like to market to me? Because believe me, I’m dumb enough to buy it if the pitch is good enough. (See also: Sweet Simplicity at-home sugar waxing kit, purchased via an infomercial)

I don’t know why I feel like I have to explain this, but I got a little bit of (polite, mostly e-mailed) shit yesterday about me perpetuating Vermont stereotypes and while I get what some of you are saying — I do — I take a few more liberties than I should, perhaps, because I like it here and in a weird way, these are my people. New England is my home in all of its oddities, from the terrifying wilds of rural New Hampshire to the posh Back Bay to the granolati of Vermont, and I am so grateful to be back here — ergo, it kind of feels like making fun of my family. My default behavior trends towards the uber-liberal, and it’s refreshing to at last poke a little fun at a place that incorporates the most extreme characteristics of myself, rather than the enduring endless days in a land where I saw glimpses of my personal sensibilities in almost no one.

I did my best to lay off the mocking of Florida (but often failed) because it felt unusually cruel, for it was far too ill-intended — I really hated living there, and to cope, I took on an obnoxious tone of superiority to console myself from the near-constant feeling that I was an outsider. I’m not going to deny that there were times when that edge was perhaps warranted, such as the afternoon a man sporting a swastika tattoo and a rifle — along with his his camo bikini-clad girlfriend — popped out between two houses on a Confederate flag-emblazoned ATV announcing, “Well, darlin’, we done found ourselves in a new location!” But that had more to do with the antics of one moron and not a generalization of an entire state — as much as I wanted to play the “it’s not me, it’s YOU” card with the Sunshine State, the truth was, it was me. Most of the time, our differences could merely be chalked up to the fact that my part of Florida just wasn’t my cup of tea, and it was no one’s fault.

I’m just saying that because I’m sure I’ll do it again. So I guess, in summary: lay off with your nicely judgy comments on my judginess. For I shall judge again with affection!

Moving on. I’ve mentioned that I have aversions to certain words that include, but are not limited to: wetness, panties, napkins and nipples. In fact, I believe I’ve already proposed an alternative word for nipples that I’d like to reintroduce for those who may have missed it the first time: fleenies. Fleenies! So much more pleasant. Use it today!

This brings me to the latest word that’s disturbing me so much that it’s actually grossing me out and I can’t get it out of my head: nub. NUB. What the hell? Doesn’t that imply some sort of bloody stump, like a lopped off TOE? NUB. GOD.

BLOODY NUB. God, once again, it reminds me of “Boxing Helena” — a movie I saw once, in a moment of really bad judgment, and has been haunting me ever since.

And with that, I’ll leave you with an image from the road right near our house after a recent ice storm. Pretty, right? I had no idea how beautiful it was here year-round.

Happy Monday!

*Cocteau Twins

21 comments March 23rd, 2008