foodsmug, lifesmug, recaps

KERF Recaps: Reboot Edition, Post 38

*Sorry, hams — for some reason, comments were turned off when this published. Everything should be okay now. Except that we’re still fat, jealous losers who live in basements. But everything else.*

How was Kathy’s weekend? Everyone must be dying to know — and it must take forever to sum up all the crunch and chewy textures and crunchy fun, since she only posted her weekend post on Tuesday. First, she tried to sword-swallow her baby son, and he was not a-Muzed.

“Nurse Churton, keep a watch on number three mesial occlusal distal… we’ve got some Cavities According to Daniel here…”

The weekend was “a-Mazen” (get it? Because she named her kid that to use an alternate spelling of a hipster-preferred drinking glass and NOT because it’s an already established Middle Eastern name)

thanks to some warm weather and a free schedule.

because heaven knows how fucking Siberian cold it is working on the rock-crushing line like Kathy, the suburban stay-at-home-mom with a blog.

Lots of playtime and relaxin’ around the house.

Seriously, you guys. The apostrophe. That’s how fuckin’ carefree they got over at the Younger-Smugson house. Like, they were spelling gerunds phonetically! It was cah-ray-zee. It started out with making “burgers” out of leftover lentils and free fakery bread that somehow involved gouda and stout:

We just added an egg, formed patties and then fried ‘em up.

That’s funny, because I remember Kathy just saying how she’d cooked these wads of beans in some kind of nut oil. Frying the shit out of them would have done them some good. She also made something with broccoli, “mayo,” vinegar, honey, mustard, raisins and almonds, like some wretched lovechild of fruit salad and macrobiotics. Or, as she describes it,

I tried to replicate the broccolini salad we had at Bald Head, but this didn’t turn out quite as good. I’ll have to wait for the wedding to have it again!

Oh, we know, Kathy. Because putting dressing on broccoli is totally complicated and you don’t possibly have any resources at hand to figure out what combination of actually tasty stuff you could combine. There are obviously no libraries or Internet connections where you live, or at least they don’t pique your curiosity about cooking. Go ahead. Flop down and stretch out and yawn until your little sister’s summer wedding; someone will deliver the “broccolini” dressed in sweet goo recipe right into your hands.

Because your lunch should totally remind people of a necropsied dog corpse. Adorbs.

So anyway, on Saturday morning, while the rest of us were sleeping off hangovers and exhausting weeks at work, virtuous Kathy was mixing two kinds of oats, gooey chia seeds and tooth-cracking raw buckwheat

for the ultimate texture combo. Plus banana, obviously, and sunflower butter.

 

Kathy, you unfolded a motherfucking guest pillowcase for this, didn’t you? Didn’t you?

She then went to some manicure place in the mall because she had a gift certificate and Bath Matt was at “a dad’s group meet up,”  and that is when the motherfucking shit started.

…I took the opportunity to get my first pedicure in six months. Ya heard me – six months. I neeeeeeeded one.

Kerf sat there for ten whole minutes with her Better Homes and Gardens Magazine (seriously) and then they told her they were

totally booked for the whole day!!! … so I left with unpainted toes. Such a bummer!!

This after she’d already picked out this totally original shade of $2 Wet N Wild, oops, sorry, I mean “Chinchilly” nail polish with her suddenly haggard nails! Princess Poutypants, who has such a ridic schedule that she couldn’t have possibly carved the time out to find out what their schedule was like during the week, was so distraught that she forgot the tinned fish she can obviously only get at her approved faux hippie foodie place to buy prepackaged tomatoes and other shit that even someone who doesn’t know how to make food knows how to make.

So instead I went to Trader Joe’s : ) Filled up on sunflower butter and Cilantro Jalapeno hummus but I FORGOT SMOKED TROUT! D’OH! I am so out and want more!
Yeah, that sounds wretched. I’m sure both of the readers who can possibly sympathize with you totally do, Kathy.
So then she had to use a cup of white wine to cook dinner, adding, in an attempt to be wry, like every aggrieved Facebook friend with kids ever,
The recipe I planned for dinner called for a cup of white wine. Good reason to open a bottle and drink the rest, huh?!
Way to be edgy, Kathy. You drink your white wine like a badass.
So for dinner, she made allegedly “crunchy” still-leftover “Irish” soda bread, adulterated a fish chowder recipe by using celery instead of onions and free cod that PR company in Alaska sent her, because if free meat and bland vegetables doesn’t make you hungry, I don’t know what could possibly appeal. (Spices?)

Sooo good!! Smothered in fresh parsley.

Yes. Put a pillow over the face of your dinner. Just like you have over your tastebuds, you olive-oil-for-Garlic-Gold substituting creature feature.
On Sunday morning, the Younger-Smugsons made fakery-blend and gooey chia seed pancakes with a “trail mix” (you know, because pushing the stroller up the hill to a doctor’s office or an overly expensive grocery store or a wine-tasting is totally a trail, and please make sure you bring your Camelbak, we wouldn’t want you to get dehyrdrated, OMG) and some new sweetened nut butter whose name she’s already taken to using in strange ways:
Nothing drizzles quite like Wild Friends!
Yeah, and nothing reads quite like blog posts that don’t have a copy edit. (Deadpan: I should know.)
Anyway, while she was doing that, she decided NOT to throw Baby Carbz out with the nut butter jars, and declared him useful for passing out, because his nap made it so that she was able
to organize the attic, change all the bedding, wash all the diapers, organize the spices, run and empty the dishwasher and read.
Just wait until he’s an SAE like your husband, Kathy dearest!
Then we ran 4 miles!!
Because, obviously, a completely restricting white girl in America who is breast-feeding her baby needs to make sure she burns plenty of calories as often as possible. Awesome. To “refill” from her run, she ate half a sandwich with, again, its sliced pickle mouth sticking out like a muppet autopsy.
After lunch, Kathy called the mani/pedi place and they were still closed — the noiv! — and she was all WTF DUDE.
We spent the afternoon playing on the porch. [Side note: I actually got in my car to go back to the pedicure place and decided to call first – they were closed!! So glad I didn’t drive all the way there.]
So she laid out a blue and white rug and took photos of herself with a big open mouth and her baby and then.. this happened. No words. They should have sent a DA investigator.
Finally, she actually got all excited about Daylight Savings Time and her adulterated fish leftover dinner Sunday night, calling it
an extra hour of sunshine and a clean kitchen – leftovers for dinner!
Oh, honey.
* Confidential to KERF: Some of us have never had a mani or a pedi, and we don’t say that to be smug, just to let you know that, hey, there are chicks your age being targeted in acid attacks, and others who are half your age submitting to marital rape by guys who are 50 years older than them, so maybe like calm your tits about not being able to have more than two times a year where you pay someone to pumice your fucking callouses and put nail polish on for you.