You know when Usher Raymond had cheated on his wife or girlfriend or baby-mama or whatever? And how he then went on to “apologize” by making an album devoted to singing about being a big fat cheater? And then how that album made him a bazillion dollars? I wonder if his wife/girlfriend/baby-mama was pissed off. Because I would be. I’d be like “yeah, thanks for the thought, but it doesn’t seem to be very punish-y that you get to make a bazillion dollars and go on tour and probably tap all kinds of strange while you’re at it. Actually, that feels more like a continued series of offenses.” Then I’d probably ask to co-write his second apology album, and have it full of songs like “Teeny Wienie for a Black Dude” and “VD on a CD” Fewer people would buy that album.

Anyway, the point is that I have some confessions to make to all of you. I’m not actually sorry, so it’s more an album that gives a song-by-song explanation of why I haven’t been blogging for squat, and what I plan to do about it. Pretty sure it’ll go platinum.

Album: Eating My Feelings
Artist: The Spiteful Chef

Track 01: I ain’t been cookin’, nonono
–This song is a jazzy, beat-intensive number about how I haven’t cooked hardly anything in the last few weeks.

Track 02: Grumblin’
–An industrial solo about the sounds my poor husband’s stomach has been making while his wife refuses to cook anything.

Track 03: The Biloxi Blues
–Soulful, sad, and dark, this song talks about how the Air Force has assigned us to Biloxi, MS for the forseeable future, starting July 1.

Track 04: The Punching Song
–This track is an intense, death metal screaming match about how I felt when the Air Force told us we have to go to Biloxi. It ends in a vocal solo that is mostly me screaming “FUUUUUUUUCK YOOOOOOOOOOOU” in my Rob Zombie voice. The music video has lots of clowns and blood, but it’s still in its conceptual stages.

Track 05: I Won’t Survive
–A remake of the famous song “I Will Survive,” only with the words changed creatively to maximize drama.

Track 06: Stand and Fight
–This traditional, Rocky-style anthem is pumped up and full of fierce courage, hope, and determination. It’s all about the sheer number of pieces of paperwork and meetings and strategery that we’ve launched to try and get home (or closer to home).

Track 07: Eating My Feelings
–The title track outlines in a whiny, Counting Crows voice how I’ve been making, ordering, and eating the same few things in rotation because they remind me of home and/or they’re comfort food. I’ve ordered panang tofu at least 5 times. I’ve made corn chowder at least 5 times. Some nights I ate only torn up lettuce with bottled dressing. Other nights I ate dry cereal. On one memorable occasion I made Lipton noodles n’ sauce that I had leftover in the pantry from when I was sick once, then baked some Boca chik’n nuggets and served them to Chris. On a plate. I was so ashamed. I also ate thin-crust pizza with olives twice. A few times I’ve skipped dessert, and that’s pretty much unheard of in these parts.

Track 08: Colonels of Hope
–This is a white-boy rap about how the big brass have noticed our efforts, and are meeting with Chris to discuss it on Monday. Like, the BIG brass. Like, pee-your-pants-scary, in-charge-of-life dudes who rarely descend from their various towers. The end kind of peters out, because who the hell knows how this is going to end?

Track 09: Silencio
–A quiet, low snare tapping…tapping…tapping as we wait to hear what’s going to happen.

Track 10: Epilogue
–This track hasn’t been cut yet. Here’s to hoping it’s full of inspired, creative cooking, happy plans to return home to our families, and a return to some level of normalcy of life. Because that’d be great, you know. And also because if Chris has to eat another Amy’s Burrito instead of real lunch, he’ll probably snap like a stale cracker.

The cover of the cd has a picture of me and a punching bag, to signify that while I may not be eating the way I normally do, I’m still exercising regularly and sleeping regularly. Just so’s you don’t worry too much. And also because I’m not interested in becoming a full-on basket case. Yet.

So I’ll see you guys at the release party, when that last track has been written, produced, and polished. I promise I’ll be back, and when I am, let’s be ready for some new stuff, mmmkay?


10 thoughts on “Confessions”

  1. funny girl…

    fingers crossed, honey
    really really

    biloxi… yowza.
    it might make you miss san antonio

    mississippi – the fatest people with the lowest literacy. BUT think of all the exceptions!

  2. Oh lady, we've got our fingers and toes crossed for you. MS actually kind of frightens me. I've never been there, but I kind of imagine it as a deep, dark warren of illiteracy, poverty, and racism…but with really good fresh seafood and fried sandwiches. So, uh, hey, you like fried sandwiches, right??

    Fingers crossed……

  3. Awwww!!! Biloxi, MS is noooo good. I am with Tina, MS kinda scares me. I drive as quickly as possible through that state as the people there are just…NOT. RIGHT!! I am praying that THE BIG BRASS do something to fix this!!!

    Looking forward to the CD.

  4. Awww good luck to you both! I'll keep my eye out for new stuff!

    PS don't feel bad, we all have slumps. I've been phoning it in for a while now too 😉

    PPS my word verification is "cheringe"…I bet you can come up with a relevant definition for it to include on your album!

  5. I think that instead of the album you should work on a pilot for your TV show "Mississippi Learning," wherein you take advantage of your ability to read and a BMI under 50 to quickly become everyone's TV sweetheart, cheerfully explaining what vegetables are and how deep-fried triple donut cheeseburgers shouldn't be eaten more than twice a day.

    It all goes swimmingly until the climactic finale, when you attempt to perform a citizen's arrest on Paula Deen for crimes against humanity and she kills, deep-fries and eats you whole.

    She then goes on to win the Republican nomination for President after Sarah Palin is caught snorting meth off of Levi's Johnson.

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