As I type there are tator tots in my oven that I will be eating for lunch. If I weren’t so busy spewing about on Twitter about Fonzie & fuckable unreliable narrators, I would be marching in front of the oven watch the timer countdown. I’m really fucking hungry.

This is the week of the month where I indulge in every crap food I decide to crave. It’s the part of the deal with being a woman: lower pay, multiple orgasms, rape culture, one-week a month where you can do whatever you want re:food, emotions, etc.

Man those tator tots smell delicious. Make no mistake, I will regret having tator tots for lunch by 2 p.m. (it’s 12:16 p.m. right now), but I’m having a healthy salad for dinner so it’s all good (I’ve switched from my winter-soup diet to my spring-salad diet, I know you were curious).

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While I was mixing up some seasoned sour cream to go with the tator tots (because of course, otherwise what’s the point?) I wondered if band teachers ever criticized their romantic partner’s kissing abilities by telling them to tighten up their embouchure.

Embouchure is a great word.

From now on I will, in my head, judge all kissers on their embouchure even though I am not a band teacher. Speaking of, one of the very few teacher crushes I had in high school was on my band teacher. Mr. Mueller was like a 100 years younger than most of the other teachers. He had dark curly hair and wore glasses. He was super dreamy. He still kind of is. Plus, you know trumpet players have a strong embouchure. I had a crush on many trumpet players in my day. But to my knowledge I’ve never kissed one.

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Update: The tator tots were only okay. I think my hunger influenced my expectation. Whatever. If you like cold tator tots, there’s a pile of them on the stove. Thanks to the tator tots I’m craving a Diet Coke & thanks to my own brilliants and $3 12-packs at Target, I have twelve entire cans of Diet Coke with Lime.

You probably don’t realize this is a pretty fortuitous series of events because I hardly ever have Diet Coke with Lime in Supergenius HQ. In fact, I still have some cans of boring Diet Coke in the fridge leftover from Christmas.

Once I stopped working in nerdy offices where soda pop flows freely I stopped drinking it. For real, every job I’ve had post-college has featured free pop, including both my grown-up cube jobs. If I ever get a real job in an office and it doesn’t feature free pop I’ll probably die.

But now, today, ice cold Diet Coke with Lime for dessert. Yum!

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At the age of 40.75 I’ve lost the knowledge of knowing which word is meant for the sweet stuff you eat after dinner and the word you use to describe arid lands. Same for staring/starring. But I still know the whole rappy-riff from “True Dreams of Wichita” so it’s not like all Alzheimer’s fear all the time.

Punch it. I got uh fed. I got uh too much things um bounce in my head. I gotta burn ’em up. I gotta burn ’em up now.