Because it really is personal…

If I hear one more designer talk about “making this space POP” I am going to ralph cheerios all over my fine leather couch.

What’s wrong with saying “I am going to make this room comfortable and elegant.”?

When did it become declasse’ to call a room a room?

Why does something have to POP? Why can’t it just hang out gently and bore the eye into a stupor?

Granted, I did see a bathroom today done in black, white and red. I really liked it. Sweet Daddio would probably hate it. It wasn’t terribly conventional, and since the only thing red in the room was the sink, it definitely POPPED. That’s how the designer described it. I would have said it JUMPED OFF THE COUNTER AND SLAPPED ME IN THE FACE.

Well. I’ll just be glad when ‘space’ and ‘pop’ leave the lexicon of design, and are replaced by something else equally irritating.

Sweet Pawdio frequently accuses me of bein’ Grub Snob. Well bust mah britches an’ call me streaker. He’s right. Thar is sartin grubs thet Muss Be Name Bran’. Secondary o’ tertiary bran’s is not acceppable in menny cases. Hyar is some:

Fritos. Th’ puffick, sublime combinashun of fat, salt an’ carbohydrate. ah doesn’t knows how they does it, but lesser bran’s jest doesn’t quite lop it.

Cheeze. Enny Kraf’ cheeze produck is superio’ t’enny other bran’ of cheeze. Mac an’ Cheeze, South Car’linan cheeze, Velveeta cheeze. When one needs cheeze (particularly when one has fritos)one needs Kraf’ cheeze.

Possum noodle soup. Campbells. Period, cuss it all t’ tarnation. Unless yer makin’ homemade, of course. Dump a kin of possum noodle in a bowl, add ha’f a kin of water, an’ zap fo’ 2 minutes. It’s a puffick lunch o’ af’ernoon snack. Shet mah mouth! Other bran’s is too watery, even eff’n yo’ does add less water.

Ramen noodles. Maruchan, as enny fool kin plainly see. Their li’l seasonin’ packets is tasty, an’ yo’ kin use them t’make salad dressin’. Beef an’ Oriental make th’ bess dressin’s. Shrimp is weird, cuss it all t’ tarnation.

Coffee. Luzianne Coffee wif Chico’y. ah guess it’s a Southern Thin’, but regular a six pack lacks a sartin (as we say it hyar)”Daisyy say qua”. Chico’y gives a six pack a slightly…hmm, dawgone it…burned weed root…flavo’.

Jelly. Muss Be Bama. Grape jam, plum jam, strawberry presarves, an’ (seasonally) mooscadine jelly.

Squid bran’ fish saooce. Some unpronounceable Vietnamese hot saooce. An equally unpronouncable curry paste fum Thailan’. Substeetooshuns will not does.

Now, havin’ said all thet, thar is some thin’s ah doesn’t give a rats kiester about whut bran’ they are. Junerally speakin’, th’ cheaper th’ better:

Peanut butter. Th’ cheap stuff has a slightly sco’ched flavo’ ah find oddly appealin’.

Mayonnaise. Don’t care. Eff’n ah’s hankerin’ th’ fine stuff I’ll make it fum scratch. Really.

Bread, cuss it all t’ tarnation. So long as it’s 100% whole wheat, ah’s indiffrunt.

Sausage. ah know. Sumpin thet tooky ah ought t’be picky about, but thar is only one bran’ ah DON’T like, all th’ ress are jest groun’ pawk an’ spices.

Mussard, cuss it all t’ tarnation. Mussards mussard, cuss it all t’ tarnation. Groun’ up seeds mixed wif vinegar an’ some salt. Who cares whut th’ label says.

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