Scrub that banana and random thoughts

Often I get PR emails announcing that music artist X has just dropped a new single. My first thought on reading such a headline is, Oh no, be careful! Don't drop it! Then, why would you make a new single if you're just going to dump it so quickly? That's a bit like, hello-good-bye.

Sigh.

Photo representation of my thought process

The confusion lasts for only a microsecond so I don't feel too bad. It took me a while to figure out what cray cray meant too. (I once spelled it cra cra.)

Expensive diet, priceless cheese puff sculpture

Of course, what they really mean is they have introduced a new single. Drop means introduce. So it would be accurate to say that I've dropped a few pounds during the pandemic, right? In fact, it sort of softens the blow and rolls. 

You might even think, whoa, Mel, how did you possibly drop pounds with all your snacking? Especially with Baroness von Snakzalot inhabiting your other dimension (here & here). What's your secret?! I'd just wink and say, Eat more!!, and let you figure it out. But you've figured it out already because I've pre-emptively sabotaged the mystery, if there was any in the first place.

This is a video I made, Dinner Chez Mel, Isolation Style. I'm disappointed that I forgot to include the candelabra, which graces all my fine dining experiences. View it below or go HERE.

My gourmet dining experience during lockdown

I've been thinking lately - it's a habit I've taken up during the pandemic, dwelling on thoughts, dwelling in my dwelling. When this pandemic is over I'm going to do all these really great things. Woo hoo!! All of them, double hard, double downed, double troubled! Because my bad-assery is back-building (especially when I'm dropping weight). I'm gonna fly there and there and invite myself to stay at my friends' homes, your homes. Hallooo!! 

It's not a bucket list because buckets are often so, eeew, stinky and stained and plastic, housing plaster or fish or paint. And you can never rinse out the smell. No, this is my Champagne kegger list. A bit more dignified and with lots of room to fit everything in there with sparkle and a pop.

Vacuum therapy - reenactment - this never happened

I never actually pictured myself as someone having a Champagne kegger list, but the pandemic has brought about lots of significant changes. For example, it used to be that my partner O and I would argue about bananas. He always said I should wash them - the skins. Who does that?, I'd say. It gets rid of salmonella, he'd say. But I don't like washing them because it makes the skins all old looking. 

Now before I go on, let me be clear: I'm not ageist but I like a nice, firm, young-looking banana. Does that make me a bad person? Furthermore, if - and that's a big if - I were going to wash the bananas, it would be to get rid of all those tarantula eggs stuck on there because you know what happens if they make their way into your brain, right? (Although how they get there is cause for hours of horrific contemplation.) 

And now, in these strange days, O has won! Who knew it would take a pandemic to make us see eye-to-eye on bananas. That's bananas! Now we not only scrub the bananas but we scour all our fruit. And bread wrappers, and milk containers, anything that comes into our home. Suddenly spider eggs seem like cute and friendly homesteaders compared to those new invaders. And you don't even really know they're incubating or hatching, do you? DO YOU?! Forget coronavirus - we need a test for spider eggs!

To distract myself from such questions that vex, I've Netflixed myself into oblivion on more than one occasion, devouring series about time travel and ESP and zombies and murder. It's a bit like a marathon transworld flight. I'm reminded of my existence only when my auto-pilot hand goes into the snack-bag beside me and comes out empty, which sets off alarm bells that only a stretch and a refill will quiet. My mask drops down from the closet ready for an emergency evac, but these days I just order delivery. So pffft.

My hair also went much whiter in the front in the span of about a week. I didn't really notice until I noticed, know what I mean? It's those spiders in there playing with my hair-colour glands, I just know it. 

Sigh. Again.

I hope you are all well. Maybe we'll cross paths in the jetstreams of Netflix. Give us a little wave, will ya's? I'll do the same. And prepare your guest suites. Heh. I'll bring the Champagne. And we'll have a little party. Yeeeeah-ah!!!