One thing that really bothers me is name insults. It immediately makes me want to dismiss what I’m reading. I know it’s probably how some people manage to deal with the daily horrors coming from the White House, and I should be more forgiving because it’s truly a minor annoyance. I read my fair share of insults during the Obama years (Obummer, DemocRAT) and the W years (sweet Jesus, do you remember W? How quaint that time was…I mean besides all the horrible things that happened), the Clinton years, etc etc etfuckingcetera, and I’m not a fan of them during any administration. This is not a new phenomenon, but I dislike it nevertheless. To be clear, my dislike doesn’t stem from a Sorkian Respect-The-Office bullshit reason either. It’s just that now more than ever, with a child in the Office, I find it to be immature. There has been such a long streak of they-did-it-before-so-now-it’s-our-turn-to-do-it mindset, that all I want is for our side to rise above that. President Obama suffered the ugliest political attacks I have ever witnessed, some coming directly from Trump himself. Why place ourselves on the same level as him? So when I see my fellow liberals calling Trump names, it just makes me sad. And to be quite honest I don’t really find them particularly amusing.* Donald Chump, Trumpty Dumpty, Cheeto-In-Chief. *sigh*
This last one gives me the most trouble because I love Cheetos. LOVE THEM. And I hate that Trump is associated with one of my most cherished foods. Just like using the word ‘trump’ as a verb has been ruined for me, Cheetos are close to suffering the same fate. And that’s a tragedy. I’m currently doing a 12-week cut (it’s a sort of diet thing, but I won’t bore you with it, promise) and in a few weeks I switch over to the maintenance phase, during which I get one free meal a week. And that meal? That first glorious meal after 504 bland, timed, and perfectly measured meals? You would think I’d say tacos or Indian or Thai (my personal holy trinity). But no. That glorious meal will be Flamin’ Hot Cheetos and a Sno Ball. My immigration status is stuck in a nightmarish Inception-like limbo dream state, but when The Department Which Will Not Be Named agents show up at my door to arrest/deport me, I will point them to this post to prove my full assimilation. No way they’d chuck me out after reading this, right? RIGHT? *sob*
Imagine my delight when I saw this story about an all-Cheetos restaurant opening up in NYC. For three glorious days, New Yorkers will get to enjoy such delicacies as Cheetos Grilled Cheese & Tomato Soup, Flamin ‘Hot and White Cheddar Mac n’ Cheetos, and Cheetos Sweetos Crusted Cheesecake. Be still my barely-beating heart.
I really need a NYC Pajiban to go and report back.
*Except for Fuckface Von Clownstick. That’s fucking gold.
Ursula lives in Chicago and likes potatoes very much. You can follow her here.