It was two kinds of pie baked into a cake. Apple and pumpkin. She saw it on Rachael Ray. It was okay. I didn’t think it was that great, actually, but it was, like, a novelty thing. The lady who’d been on the show had said that she made it because nobody could ever decide whether to have pie or cake at her restaurant, so she made both. None of us thought that was a very good backstory. Anyway, my mom couldn’t remember what the thing was called, so while I used my internets on my phone to look it up, everybody tossed around suggestions. “Pake.” “C-K-ie.” Nobody could decide whether that one started with a C or a K, so it was discarded. Then my notoriously ditzy aunt brightened suddenly with inspiration and said, “Why don’t we just call it COCK!” It was great, because for about 8 seconds, she looked SO proud of herself. Like she had completely solved the giantest mystery. The rest of us sat in the silence that happens before everybody realizes it’s funny and starts to laugh. At that point, my equally ditzy stepdad turned to her and said, “Yeah, but there’s not even any PIE in that.”
like how it seems all stupid and solitary and everybody just does what they do, but they don’t really. they do stuff and it’s for somebody else because somebody else is for them.
so sometimes you’re taking a bath and when you get out you wrap yourself in a towel and then you walk into the living room and realize that the dogs have been busy tearing things up while you were distracted, and as you had intended to vacuum today anyway and had already gotten out the vacuum, you decide to take care of this mess here right quick. so you start up the vacuum, which regurgitates some dusty weirdness and you realize that something’s wrong (and you hope it’s not a belt thing because the last thing you want to do is fiddle around with that mess). so you turn over the vacuum and begin to take it apart but eventually you need two hands and you drop the towel you’ve heretofore been holding around yourself. you extricate some kind of hairy dusty plasticky globule from the end of a nozzle piece and then you attend to the repair of your appliance. you realize that you forgot to unplug it before taking it apart like that and you are grateful for the reprieve from electrocution. you figure, the job’s already begun and you’ve made this big yucky mess, so you proceed to finish vacuuming the rest of the house.
i’m pretty sure naked vacuuming will be the next olympic sport. i’m not sure if it will be placed in the winter or the summer games, but it’s gonna happen.