Tag Archives: eating

Feces Pieces.

11 Sep


My dog rolled in shit again today. Right before I left for a nice fancy dinner at Red Lobster. He smelled like roadkill. Shit isn’t exactly Miss Dior Cherie. Terrible timing. I went back inside, squirted a hand towel with Dawn dish soap, and scrubbed his head and back with it, then left for my endless-shrimp meal. I wasn’t about to let a feces covered canine ruin my evening plans. After stuffing myself with seafood, I came home to my shit-fest dog, just ranking up the place. I had no choice but to give him an aggressive bathing.



He knew. The little bastard tried to escape. For the first time ever he resisted the bath. He loves shit that much. Bird poop, cat poop, raccoon poop—he can’t wait to find it and rub his face in it. I’ve never known another creature to love the smell of shit as much as this dog. He did not want it to come off. I scooped his stinky carcass up and dumped him into the shower, where he received a very serious scrubbing with about half a liter of puppy shampoo. I almost had to use vinegar. Unreal.



Tonight was the first time I ever ate at Red Lobster. I was suckered in by their endless shrimp special. Shrimp refills, as many as I want? Who can say no to that?

It was way too much. They served me enough shrimp to sink a shrimping vessel. I’m going to reek of garlic and butter and seafood until next Wednesday. Just like my dog. Except I smell like food, and he smells like diarrhea.

Red Lobster’s biscuits are a problem. They’re so delicious. I can see myself becoming physically dependent on them. They’re so buttery and soft and wonderful. I want to crawl inside one and hibernate for the winter, then eat my way out of it in the spring. Also, their mashed potatoes? Creamy heavenliness. Those two items alone would keep me coming back.

I like that they named the restaurant “Red” Lobster, as if we didn’t already realize that lobsters were red. Give me a “wet” water please, waiter. Redundancy.

Everyone in the restaurant was the size of a mini van. So many fats. They were there for the endless dishes too, obviously. Red Lobster is like a casino buffet for seafood. People who are eating there consider it a swanky meal because it has “lobster” in the name.



I really love caesar salads. Nothing gets me going quite like a crispy, slightly anchovy, asiago and romano sprinkled caesar salad with crunchy croutons. Mmm. The issue that I have with salads however is that once I run out of croutons, it’s game over. I can’t keep eating just lettuce. It doesn’t work like that. I need some crunch in my lunch, you know?

I was really excited to get that to rhyme. It was anticlimactic.

Well, I hope you all had a wonderful weekend filled with whiskey, fast food, and shame. Until next time, I bid you adieu.


That’s what I’m talkin’ about.”


House(fly) Salad.

7 Jun

A big flashy “thank you” to all of you bandwagoners who hopped on board and assisted me in coercing that thief to remove my material from his site. It worked! In less than 7 hours, we succeeded. Not only did I get help from all the people who know me in real life, but I also received quite a bit of support from randoms out in the world wide web out there who also ratted on this person for stealing my material. I really appreciate it, folks!

I would like to directly quote the individual who plagiarized Sheppard’s Pie who retorted to my messages demanding he remove my material from his site and get a life. He said, and I quote,

“for the record I didn’t say I wrote them, everyone knew you wrote them and I was just making you popular.”



Let’s take a look at what he wrote on the top right corner of “his” website:

Aside from the creepy Avatar of my own face that he is using, let’s look further into the verbage underneath.

Maybe I’m a complete and total moron, but to me, the statement, “Credits to Becca Sheppard for helping me make this journal certainly does not suggest that I wrote the material and everyone knew it, as he so claims. It sounds like….well, it sounds exactly like it says. This statement alone reads as if I “assisted” this person in creating a blog.

Why would I do that? I’m way too selfish.

And WHY would he use such a homosexual teddy bear background? Give me a break. Bottom line: don’t plagiarize unless you want to be scorned.

And sued.

Moving forward.

I came home tonight, famished, and put together a nice big bowl of salad with Kraft Caesar Vinaigrette dressing, some garlic croutons, and some delicious romano/parmesan cheese sprinkled all over it. Just now as I was reaching the bottom of my glorious salad, I shoveled the last forkful into my mouth just in time to peer into my bowl and spot…..A HOUSEFLY!

I blew chunks into my bowl.

UGH. This is truly nauseating. It’s an entire, full-bodied insect. The only thing that would have been worse than finding an entire housefly in my salad would have been finding half a housefly in my salad. Thank god I didn’t. There is nothing I can do to make my mouth feel safe or clean right now. I feel like I need to scrub it with sandpaper and CLR before I can feel okay about this again. At least the fly never made it into my mouth. That would have been the end of it. I would have gone mad.

Eating strawberries is such a gamble. Sometimes they taste so sweet and delicious, and sometimes they taste like snake venom. It’s really frustrating. I don’t like biting into a ruby red strawberry and then having to do a double-take to confirm that I didn’t just bite into a tart lemon. I like my berries sweet and sexy. You know what I’m saying?

WELL, time for me to hit the hay. I have a real mattress though.

Your friend,



B:  I wonder if I can sue the salad company and make a grip on it.

R:  I doubt it; I think it’s safe to assume you’re gonna get bugs in your salad once in a while.
I think you’ll be fine anyway, look at all those African kids who have flies flying in and out of their eyeballs all day. You just had one hanging out in your salad.