Mm, rotted fish

There is something on Taboo about gross food. Currently, there is a lady who is making something called "stinkheads". It involved burying fish in a pit for two weeks, letting botulism flourish, and then eating them. Apparently, they are creamy.

What I find amazing is that this show does not feature my mother-in-law. Sandi does much the same thing, except instead of burying food outside, she puts it in her freezer. I imagine if medical science were to study my inlaws, they would find such a concentration of toxins that they could cure death and Republicanism. Actually, not Republicanism because Steven ate there for years and still votes Republican occasionally. He has some of these hard-won immunities. I don't.

When we were first dating, I attempted to eat things Sandi cooked. Invariably, I would become ill. I kind of assumed it was because my stomach hated me. Slowly, I just stopped eating things there. Then came the day I understood: Sandi gave us hot dogs for 4th of July. Originally, I assumed that she gave us a block of permafrost that she claimed were hot dogs. I chipped away at the ice until the semi-opened packet of weenies. Steven tried to suggest we cook them for dinner, but I was skeptical. I continued to chip. I saw the date of June emerge. Then: the year. Sandi had purchased these hot dogs back when dinosaurs roamed the earth.

I immediately contracted food poisoning and died. Then I informed Steven that I would never, ever eat anything that came from his parents' house again. I love my stomach that much.

A couple months ago, Steven decided to clean out the cupboards and the freezer. After throwing out chicken that had seen the Civil War and something that might have been cow, might have been mammoth, he found cans, bent out of shape from gases and the contents begging to be set free to take over the world, hiding behind somewhat recently expired food. When he went to throw them out, my mother-in-law yelled at him. She said they were still good.

I think the canned goods have been talking to her a little too much recently.

Bah

Dear Internetz:

Recently, it has come to my attention that you no longer feel it necessary to remain connected at all time. Frequently and for no apparent reason, you choose to disconnect and remain that way for hours. You also seem to possess an uncanny ability to simultaneously block my wireless card from being able to pick up your stealth connection as well as block me from being able to connect to any other wireless network. Sometimes, for laughs, you like to show up when I refresh connections only to refuse to connect and then disappear. Haha, Internetz, very funny.

I would like to remind you that you are DSL. That stands for Direct Service Line, not Does Suck Lemons. Direct Service Line implies that you will be available anytime, all the time. That means if I want to read The Globe online at 10am or surf porn at 3am, you should be available. Internetz, it is not all about you. It is all about me because I pay the bill.

I understand this may not specifically be your fault. Verizon seems have an issue and perhaps your misunderstanding comes from them. I understand it's both a nature and a nuture thing; like company, like ISP. Still, it doesn't excuse your lack of recent connectivity or your rejection of my perfectly fine wireless router. I'm sorry it's not a Linksys. After the fourth one blew up, we decided to move onto a different brand. It's like when you finally stop buying hamsters and just get a cat.

So here's the long and the short of it. I expect to receive full time internet. If not, you can consider yourself terminated.