Salad daze
I remembered a few weeks ago that I was gifted a ouija board for Christmas and in January tried to use it several times to bring a friendly ghost into my life…and oh god I’m so sorry. Clearly I opened a portal to hell and that’s how we ended up where we are right now. Ooops.
Theme music for this newsletter
Yma Sumac’s otherworldly voice pairs nicely with oppressive humidity, sitting on your deck and spying on your neighbors:
Pigeon report
Pigeons, by all rights are probably the closest we have as far as “America’s bird” right now, but that is not the way the forefathers (heh heh, what about our FOREFEATHERS) wanted it to be. And no, they did not want a glorious eagle, but a turkey as our national bird. Now according to the internet, the story that Benjamin Franklin wanted a turkey as our national bird is supposedly a myth, but I know in my guts, my very being that it is true. I know this because turkeys are the closest personality-wise to America. Once when I was about seven a turkey chased me around a yard while I ran screaming, begging it to leave me alone as it tried to peck me to death. And that’s kinda how I feel about America too.
Grade: A, I love turkey sandwiches
Are you okay? Checking in on my favorite d-listers
It brings me no joy that I feel oddly compelled this week to talk to you about the Kardashians. I promise this will have nothing to do with Kim and Kanye’s 14 ponies (that is…too many ponies), but rather a disturbing trend I have noticed with the family. Specifically, their obsession with creating giant blow up slides of themselves.
Most recently they did this at Khloe’s 36th birthday party. Looking at the photos a few things struck me, including that a) no one needs a party with favors or activities after the age of six; b) put on masks you idiots; and c) OMG WHAT HELLISH VISAGE IS THIS:
I wish I could say this cursed slide is an anomaly. But dear readers, nothing is good anymore and we are in hell, which is why I must tell you that they also created this blow-up castle at Stormi Kardashian’s birthday party:
Why would you do this for a two-year old’s birthday, much less a 36-year old woman? Never ever ever ever in my life have I thought, “gee, wish I could slide into my mouth but like, from the perspective of a piece of popcorn.”
I am so sorry to have shown you either of these pictures, but if I must live in hell, I might as well have company.
Answer: Oh no. Not good. Very bad. Very very bad.
The weirdest shit I saw on Craigslist recently
I am sorry but if you spend $500 on this, I can only feel so bad when it reanimates and inevitably murders you.
Hints from Hellouise
As you may know I hate turning on my oven during the summer or even thinking about making food, so I’m doing everything in my power to explore “salads.” But salad in the way your grandma means salad.
I whipped up a delightful yogurt-chickpea salad this week and I highly recommend it if you, like me, are a wilting hothouse flower and have drawn all your blinds by 10 a.m. each morning.
Ingredients:
Two cans of chickpeas (drained and rinsed and shampooed and massaged and oiled. No really just drain them please)
A cucumber
Some dill
Greek yogurt (full fat because you’re beautiful baby)
Za’atar seasoning/Cumin/S&P/Chopped garlic (enough)
A lemon (yellow)
Olive oil (the wet kind)
Directions: Okay so mix up a cup of the yogurt with all the spices, dill, and some squeezes of lemon juice and enough olive oil until it tastes good. Then throw it over the chickpeas and kinda mash em around so they’re goopy and then cut up a cucumber and throw it in and stir it around and yeah, you’re done cool bye.
Shit you really ought to read
The toll of COVID-19 on the Navajo Nation. Suzi Quatro rules. San Quentin’s prison newsrooms. Billy Porter is an icon. If you’re feeling spicy, wanna learn more about conservative teens on Tik-Tok?