The Swap Shop Flea Market on Sunrise. I have come to realize that the success you have at this flea market depends mostly on your energy level, having the willingness to dig in and pick through piles of mainly junk, and then having the negotiation skills to barter with those sharks (Haitian and Jamaican women). *btw, old Haitian women do not like to have their pictures taken, at all
I don’t exactly know what these people were selling or doing, but it was real busy and they were whispering and it looked shady, so I went over there and took their picture, and I said Aha, I got you!
My lone purchase, a $2 Powerpuff girl for Squeak, well this and a cold Coco Frio (sadly still tasted like nasty salty coconut water)
I’m leaving for Miami, so I had to use up all of my food comps at the Hard Rock… I have rotisserie chicken, salisbury steak, penne pasta, a roasted pork Cuban, a barbecue beef sandwich with macaroni and cheese on it, a BBQ chicken pizza and my favorite macaroni and cheese balls with cheese sauce.
As for desserts, a chocolate cupcake, vanilla cupcake, butterscotch cupcake, black and white brownie, apple crumb cake, biscotti, cookies and cream whoopie pie and a caramel macchiato whoopie pie.
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I was intrigued, and since I am such a foodie and have real refined taste and whatnot, I had two breakfast offerings from Taco Bell this a.m…not sure why I thought their breakfast items would be of higher quality than their regular fare. I am leery of sausage of any kind, subconsciously aware that all the other piggy parts (tails, snouts, feet) are probably ground up to make them. I shudder to think what quality sausage Taco Bell (who boils their meat in bags) was using. Instead I chose a bacon and cheese waffle and a bacon and egg taco, thinking I couldn’t go wrong with bacon: wrong! Taco Bell’s bacon is like bacon bits bacon, little shrivel scrapes of fat and processed meat. The waffle was meh, bacon artificial, and my raggedy little taco didn’t even have cheese…I think you’re safe for now, McDonald’s…actually Hardee’s breakfast is the bestest.
I started today with $12 in cash, negative $65 in checking, my one credit card maxed at $750, all silver scrounged and spent, gas tank on E. I had court for two of my teenagers at 9:30, and I was unfortunately stuck taking them back to their schools after. Their schools are far, far, far…in Weston and Miramar. I put $7 gas in the car, 595 to 75 and it’s crackin.’ Drop off my lovely charges and put the office address into my GPS…crap, a toll booth looms: $1.25 gone, wasted. By the time I get to the office my car says I can go zero miles, back on E. I have $3 and change, nothing to eat at home, so I stop at the Dollar Tree on Broward. This is the most hood-est Dollar Tree of them all. I have never been in without getting panhandled hard. “Big man, let me holler at ya!” “Nephew! ” Their carts have long poles attached to them so they can’t be pushed out the front door. So let me peruse the bountiful selection. Bar S is widely known as the best quality Polish sausage, practically the filet-mignon of meat by-products…says made with Chicken, Beef and Pork to include mechanically separated chicken pieces and beef hearts, yum. Then I want some bread to make sandwiches with my meat, so I settle on these Marie Callender cheese biscuits…I wanted a cornbread mix or something, but all the other breads in a bag require eggs and milk and oil and whatnot…finally, everyone’s favorite snack: Bugles, Nacho Cheese Bugles, ya heard? I head home, pan fry my sausages till they are kinda blackish, bake my biscuits, drown ’em in hot sauce, it’s all good. Payday is after midnight, my car can make it just down the street to the gas station because it’s a BMW, ya heard? Gots extra reserve gas for individuals that might otherwise run out…and my little pot belly is full…maybe I could get me a 2nd job at Dollar Tree? that’s what’s up for real, fancy, I would have first dibs on all of the fabulous merchandise…my stomach is starting to hurt, Dollar Tree food poisoning?
After waiting three days on a man named Peanut to take me on a romantic date I sadly concede he was a fig newton of my imagination. I feel blue. I go to the Winn Dixie in Victoria Park and get the 8-piece fried chicken deal for $6.99. The chicken gets eaten with the quickness, with hot sauce, ’cause that’s how we do it 3rd Ward Magnolia ya heard?
I consider the ice cream, cookie dough, chocolate cake, bread pudding…finally settling on the somewhat generic-looking Carnation fudge make-it-yourself box that the store has on display. The box says everything included, just need butter. Makes 1 1/2 pounds of fudge.
Back in my humble abode, after I lick the hot sauce off my fingers, I bring 1/2 pound of sugar, a can of condensed milk and sweet cream butter to a boil, then add a bag of marshmallows and a bag of chocolate chips, stirring it until it’s all melted up. I pour it into the pan and pop it in the fridge.
Two hours later I commence to eating fudge, fudge, fudge. I am like Edmund with his Turkish Delight, I eat more, more please, some milk, fudge, fudge…I think it has medicinal properties? That’s what somebody told me anyways…
So now it’s 8 p.m. on Saturday night, I have eaten 1.5 pounds of fudge, my belly is trying to stick out, I feel fat, ugly, juicy…definitely, certainly not going to a gay bar tonight. Peanut it’s your fault, for being an emotionally…and also physically…unavailable man. I promise to get up early Sunday and start trolling the internet for a new man, well technically a man since one hasn’t materialized in Fort Lauderdale as yet…maybe the new guy can do something about his boyfriend’s ignorant eating habits…
The Queen let another drop fall from her bottle on to the snow, and instantly there appeared a round box, tied with green silk ribbon, which, when opened, turned out to contain several pounds of the best Turkish Delight. Each piece was sweet and light to the very center and Edmund had never tasted anything more delicious.
Edmund tried to remember that it is rude to speak with one’s mouth full, but he soon forgot about this and thought only of trying to shovel down as much Turkish Delight as he could, and the more he ate the more he wanted to eat, and he never asked himself why the Queen should be so inquisitive.