I Relished Being Hungry For Thanksgiving Pop Slop Gloppy Grub

I relished being hungry for Thanksgiving pop slop gloppy grub whereby the missus didst potchke created whirling dervish hubbub after enjoying repast, (fit for a tarnished king), yours truly able, eager, and ready to soak my ego freezing carcass in a hot tub. Hmm... on second thought lemme apprise others on the verge against starving themselves, (nor exposing their lovely bones to a$$ biting temperatures) rather I beg, enjoin, invoke... potential dying skeletal selves amidst anorexic club (about fifty years ago yours truly evinced existence as hunger artist) until rib cage protruded taut and visible doubling as drum to drub synchronized within heart of darkness, especially when electrocardiogram exhibited absolute zero vital sign, cardiac arrest translated as cessation to lub dub, hence yours truly declared dead as doornail, coroner report deemed arrhythmia directly indeed linkedin to deliberate paranoid Machiavellian flub courtesy the missus attempted to poison me (courtesy **** cynic no – not really) actually aborted cuz nanobots loosed upon body gripped with rigor mortis, a minor inconvenient truth with earthling in balance, cuz odorless and tasteless deadly toxins rendered me convalescing from bout with death, an oxymoronic former slenderman gourmand. Woke word wizard temporarily deceased (stunting body, mind and soul) until said microscopic robots avidly analogous to frenzied figuratively hogtied pigs buzzfeeding at a trough creating porcine hubbub invisible nanoids (0.1-10 micrometres) accomplished programmed task, whereby fatal microbes they did scrub away leaving me fit as a fiddle. No matter she thoroughly, painstakingly and lovingly didst strew haphazardly she threw leftovers righteously together, this unseasonably warm November twenty fourth figuratively view wing the remaining thirty plus days of two thousand twenty two thoroughly cooked in microwave until... poor excuse for my meal appeared with consistency of shoe leather. Think the missus not afraid of Virginia Woolf keen to experiment treating me like the Gingerbread Hag would: questionable resultant glop pantomimed for my guessing pleasure never figure out in bajillion years as amateurish Marcel Marceau charade performance courtesy the spouse, an entrée she gave - yours truly immediately sought to evade me subsequently evincing horrific puckered mealy mouth as though I swallowed hand grenade figurative exploding oral cavity feeble futile gesticulation inveighed. Thus, methinks himself wise to don cooking apron please do not ask why trumpeting self as master chef boyardee so move over wife and allow husband to try his hand (using skill - let) me prepare Thai and/or other Asian cuisine dish, cuz when free to potschke (To fuss or "mess around" inefficiently and inexpertly), I haint shy to blend (indiscriminately) ingredients ofttimes yours truly barley able to ply boiling water since significant other does not give this garden variety and generic, gimlet eyed gourmandizing guilt free Earth friendly gumption goaded guy an even handed doodling Yankee a try, who offtimes asks why. Every so often yours truly tries to stave off appetite for consumption regarding chomping down unrecognizable fried object gets so hungry, he could eat a horse (yours truly jest kidding hoof course) truth be told, I only eat one meal per day all day from son up to son down, me a force tubby reckoned with, who if he gives way to vice event chew wooly (mammouth) experiences remorse. Hum glad to share mine reasonably rhyming hook twenty six letters linkedin amidst various combinations, formations, permutations,... allows, enables, and provides a look into the mindscape of Matthew Scott Harris doth show himself with steely dangling nonsense without pride nor prejudice, nor sense and sensibility he forsook.