Broom Shoes

I have 1, 250 unread emails. My car looks like a homeless person is living in the backseat. Fuck, a homeless person could actually be living back there and I am not sure I would know. But, if there is a homeless person back there, I would appreciate if they would stop stealing my sharpies. I need them for work. My backseat homeless person is a dick.

I am watching my blog readership dwindle. Helplessly watching. I want to blog. I love this space, this little piece of me. I love all of you. I want to provide you guys with funny anecdotes of my culinary life.

Like this conversation with time change guy.

TCG: You know what the best idea ever is?

Erratic: I feel like this is a conversation I am going to regret, but what?

TCG: Broom shoes.

Erratic: And, here comes the regret.

TCG: No, seriously. So many people would buy broom shoes. Like moms.

Erratic: Why would moms buy broom shoes?

TCG: For their kids.

Erratic: The regret is actually becoming painful.

TCG: TONS of people would buy them.

Erratic: Like who? Other than the obvious answer of moms.

TCG: People who like brooms. AND PEOPLE WHO LIKE BROOM SHOES.

Erratic: So, your demographic for broom shoes are people who like brooms and broom shoes?

TCG: Don't forget moms.

Erratic: Ah, yes. Moms.

TCG: It's genius.

Erratic: Do you realize that drugs have made you this stupid?

TCG: You're just jealous of my broom shoes.

I love all of you that have hung in there. I promise to start blogging more. I promise to not be that person who promises to start blogging more and then stops blogging. I have SO MUCH I want to say. I will find the time to say it.