I need to spice up this food blog, so to say, which has become rather blase' and bland as of late, and I think the inclusion of my own personal blog stalker could take my blog to the next level, a step down that is. I didn't think it could get much lower, but I surprised myself again. I've kept her, my blog stalker that is, in the closet up till now, but I think it's time to dust the bitch off, and air her out like an old yeast infection, and go cyber public.
I'm not going to script this whole episode, just the beginning and ends.
Music Fade In (cheesy soap opera crap)
Credits Up (Surprise Valley Productions Presents etc.)
Narrator's Voice Over (mature but sexy)
My blog stalker's name is Lizzie, and she wields a mighty toxic keypad and mouse as her sword. Her husband, and longtime friend (way back before you Lizzie) of mine, my main ace beau coon Michael David Evans, met me and Geraldine, and was our guest, at our apartment in Paris last April 2012. At that time he communicated to us that his affair with Lizzie of the UK, aka LIZZIE THE BLOG STALKER (LTBS), sadly had come to pass. His UK visa was up, and he wanted very badly to come back to the good ol' USA. Could we help him? He'd grown tired of dishes like toad in the hole, blood sausage, haggis, and warm beer, and wanted to live in America again, and eat more California nouveau cuisine, although he would very much miss the fresh Stilton and Cotswald cheeses in spring time. The grass is so sweet at that time of year. It's a food blog remember?
While in the UK he was living in Totnes, Devon, United Kingdom, with Lizzie the Blog Stalker for about a week. Sadly, another poor decision, in a string on poor decisions on his part. She kicked his sorry ass to the cobbled stoned curb, and then he moved into a windowless basement room devoid of any penetrating vitamin D for two years in merry ole England, where the sun shines 53 days a year, guaranteed, weather or not you want it to.
Michael's father, Wilbur Evans, once held a command performance for the King and Queen of England, and his dearly departed brother Philip was named after Prince Philip. I'm not bullshitting you. This is shit you can't make up.
We did a couple of dinners to help benefit Michael, and some dear friends of his helped out, and we got him back here. He was a fucking mess when we saw him in Paris, and he was worse when he got his ragged black ass back here to Town.
Michael is disabled, and I'm not going to go into all his maladies other than to say we recently learned he had a stroke some 5 years ago. More bad luck. But, after having been in the East Bay for a little over four months now Michael's getting his funk back on. The Town will do that to you. Do they know about East Bay Funk back there in the UK, or is it all punk rock and Euro trash disco tech?
Since coming back to California Michael has gotten some decent medical care, worked out some transportation issues, and we have become closer again. It took me a little while to get use to having another person here. I am a hippie, but I gave up communal living many years ago.
So, Mim, as LTBS likes to calls him, and I have worked out most of our issues. More will rear their ugly heads as we speed into the future, and we'll work those out too, cause that's what friends and family do. Make no doubt about it, Michael David Evans and I are brothers for life.
We've worked out almost everything except for one small rather pesky detail, what to do about Lizzie The Blog Stalker? I gotta go with Little Richard on this one, "You make me dizzy Miss Lizzie." LTBS insists that me and my lovely wife Geraldine, the woman arranges home care for people, and does hospice referrals, have turned Michael, or Mim if you prefer, against her affections. Now Sweet Pea, it's well known that I can get rough but Geraldine is the sweet one. You like it rough Mama? I don't think you like it rough, like a hippie woman. I see you as more like a flounder. See, I knew I'd get back to the food sooner or later. Remember, that's what this whole friggin' blog is all about, the food. Nothing happens between cooking and more cooking again, no life at all, no drama. Just like Seinfeld, it's a blog about nothing.
I receive emails daily, that's plural for more than one, from LTBS, saying that Geri and I are killing Mim, how he was her one and only great love of all time (what about the father of your children), and yadda, yadda, yadda, why did you brainwash him in Paris, and take him away from you, his Savior, your words not mine babe, and why are we keeping him captive here in Town against his will? Actually, he's under a spell from a drug I made out of the sweat glads of a male Georgia bullfrogs' testicles. Every once in a while I pimp slap him and beat him with a coat hanger, but hey, you gotta keep order.
So, now you know a little more of the drama that goes on behind the scenes of the wonderful and exciting world of food blogging. There's no reason for anyone to give a fuck about me or LTBS's lives, which is why I never wrote about this problem up till now. But now I just can't take it anymore.
I always need new material, and maybe this will get LTBS off my back. Like Pete Townsend once said about the album Tommy, "It was a desperate act by a desperate band." This too is a desperate act by a desperate old hippie who frankly doesn't need any more fucking drama, at least none that I or Geri haven't created. I'm still getting those pesky emails from you Lizzie and Barrack Obama too. I sent him money, but he wants more, and I'm also invited to some party he's having. If we could smoke a blunt up on the white house roof that would be way cool. Then we could go munch on some of Michelle's veggie in her victory garden. I'm trying to get back to the food.
LBTS made comments on my blog for a long time, so I had to block her, and now she just sends me these demented emails about her, me, Geri, and always Mim. You can see pictures of Mim up on my blog LTBS. If I was holding him prisoner in a fucking bunker somewhere why is he in our backyard eating pizza with a bunch of people? He's actually got windows in his living space now. It's an amazing breakthrough in construction technology we have here in the USA.
Don't get me wrong, I don't mind people making negative comments about me, you can't cook your way out a souffle asshole, looser is one I got recently (ouch that stings), your grammar, spelling and syntax sucks, don't give up your day job to be a food writer, bad, good, whatever, generally speaking I'm a duck, but dam Cherry Blossum, say what you gotta say and then move the fuck on. Why you making me your project?
So, Lizzie The Blog Stalker here is my challenge to you. I ain't from Yorkshire or Nodingham honey, but as my Aunt Mae usta say, and what you Brits should have learned back in the 1780's is, "Don't fuck with a Yankee." Never mind that you came back and burnt the White House down in 1814, small detail.
OBTW, I do love the English, how could you not?
LTBS, you have told us at least 10 times now you would stop writing us, and you have broken your word each time. You got a problem with Mim, as you insist on calling him, then deal with Mim, not me. My name is Marcel Julius De Grosse honey. Son of Rocco and Mary DeGross. I'm a busy man. I got a life, now go get one of your own. Deal with Mim, that's who you married, not me. You leave us be and I won't write another word about you. Anyone who knows me knows that my word is as good as it gets. Otherwise let's take it viral. I'll make YOU my special project.
Contact Michael, not me, get it. Here's a clue, if he doesn't write you, maybe he doesn't want anything to do with you. Move on dot org. It's not my affair.
If you choose to use this blog as your forum LTBS I will no longer block your comments and I will make your crazy email available for all to read. I'm going still keep talking about food, cooking and of yeah that other thing that gets in the way of food and cooking, life, but I will include your comments.
Music Up, (Euro Techno)
Credits Roll,
Narator's Voice Over
To learn more about Michael David Evans, my amazing, sweet, crazy friend, and his life story please go to: SusannaFosterChronicles.com.
One last parting note: Lizzie, I'll tell you again what I said a long time again. I am sorry it didn't work out for you and Michael. Had it been another time and place well, C'est La Vie as they say in Paris.
Peace,
Make Food, remember this is a food blog, Not War
Fade to Black
Out
 |
| Michael David Evans..held captive |
Breakfast: plain black tea, a little egg salad
Lunch: Big salad w/frisee and spring greens, anchovies, vinaigrette, red bell pepper, black pepper
& salt
Snacks: GORP
Dinner: Pasta w/tomatoes, asparagus, onion, eggplant, olive oil, garlic, fresh basil, Genoa salumi
(very little)
Exercise: 2 miles, the toe is getting better
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