Potato Of The Day Episode 100

Potato of the Day Episode 1Remember this? Probably not. It’s been a long time. A real long time. That was the FIRST Potato Of The Day. That’s where this nonsense all started. A Snapchat of a Red Idaho Potato just straight chillin’. Remember it now? Remember how I promised that potato wouldn’t go all Drake on us? Remember how I said it’d stay zero forever? Remember that? Well that potato stayed at zero. But you and me? WE MADE TO ONE HUNDRED FUCKING POTATOES. ONE HUNDRED. THAT’S TRIP-DIGITS MOTHAFUCKAS! Give yourself a round of applause. Now point that sound at me. Dude, come on! I’ve earned it.

I know broke some promises along the way. I lied to you a lot. I told you this was POTATO Of The Day, then I threw a bunch of not-potatoes at you. I wrote some fiction. I wrote some gibberish. Hell, I took a stab at haiku. I’d link to those things, but this is the 100th Potato Of The Day. I don’t have to do shit on this on. You can use the search bar for yourself. I also lied about this not going all Drake on our ass. BECAUSE WE WENT 0-100, didn’t we? Nope! Got you! THAT was a lie. We went 1-100. There was never a Potato Of The Day Episode 0, ya dummy.

That very first Potato Of The Day was barely 100 words. Now these things stretch. On Tuesday, I went over 650 words. That’s too many words for a potato. Potatoes can’t read. But you, you CAN read. And for that, I thank you. Thank you for the likes, the shares, the clicks. Thank you for help making these random bursts of insanity worthwhile. Thank you for reading. Not all of them have been great, but it’s great to have you there for all of them.

Potato Of The Day will continue. Just not tomorrow. I’m taking a break. ARE YOU SERIOUSLY ASKING WHY? BECAUSE I’VE DONE ONE HUNDRED OF THESE FUCKING THINGS AND I’M A LITTLE BURNT OUT. FUCK, DUDE. DON’T ASK SO MANY QUESTIONS.

But thanks. For real. And thank you, Red Idaho Potato. You’re still a goddamned inspiration to us all.

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Potato Of The Day Episode 99

kohlrabi99 heads of kohlrabi on the wall, 99 heads of kohlrabi. Take one down, pass it around, what the fuck is kohlrabi, ya’ll?

That’s kohlrabi, man. That’s it. It’s a root vegetable. It’s actually quite delicious. I have nothing profound or witty to off you in regards to kohlrabi. I could tell you it’s a little starchy with a nice watery finish. I could tell you I like to eat it raw with the slices lightly salted. I could tell you it’s often recommended as a filler vegetable for soups. But I couldn’t tell you a tangentially related, humorous anecdote about kohlrabi. Nope, I couldn’t do that. OR COULD I?

Still nope. See that was a little thing called a transitional sentence setup. It built up all this anticipatory desire in you to read on, but when you did, you found that nothing had really changed. That’s pretty damn anti-climactic, isn’t it? I thought so, too. Which is why TWISTING THE PLOT, BRO. Sorry, I did it again. I’m a habitual liar. I can’t help myself sometimes. Like when I see sliced kohlrabi and a shaker of sea salt sitting on the counter. Boom, sudden kohlrabi anecdote. I lied AGAIN! Believe me, I’m as disappointed in this post as you are.

OR AM I? Wait, that sentence needed to go up at the end of the last paragraph! Damn. I’d edit it, but it’s too late. This is all stream of conscious, first person P.O.V. narrative. This is just my experiences. Oh dude! I just remembered how I used to mispronounce kohlrabi so it sounded like I was saying “Cholera-be”. That wouldn’t be very enticing to eat. Cholera. That’s a disease that makes you spray a dangerous amount of liquid shit out your ass. That’s the direct opposite of kohlrabi, which is high in fiber content, making you shit a normal amount of solidified shit. This post just got gross. I’m sorry about that. OR AM I?

Nailed it. Nailed this post so hard. Just like I nailed up a picture of kohlrabi with outdated, left-justified paragraph nails. Only we don’t use nails on the internet. We use <HTML> and other web languages. Web programmers are just futuristic construction workers, man. What’s that got to do with kohlrabi, you ask? Nothing. It has nothing to do with kohlrabi But you already knew that. OR DID YOU?

Stop reading this post and eat some kohlrabi. It’s pretty good.

Potato Of The Day Episode 98

slimcado“Slimcado.”

It was just a word, a simple idea really, but the room was in immediate agreement. How could they not be? This was Bravo-Toaster presenting after all. Sure, he’d had a few misfires with purple cauliflower and tie-dyed bell peppers, and sure, no one could really point to any specific successes he was directly responsible for, but he was the fastest rising executive in the entire firm, skipping the corporate ladder entirely, instead crawling up the pile of bodies he’d thrown under the bus. Interns, hippies, old men hiding in the shadows waiting for retirement – they were all gone now. And Bravo-Toaster had made sure of that.

Bravo-Toaster had a cemented confidence about him now, matched by his final hair form, the comb-over, his accession from #MILLENIALEXPERT to full-on business god completed thanks to the webinar series Grab Your Boss By The Balls: A Guide To Getting Promoted (later retitled, in reaction to negative PR, Grab Your Boss’s Junk: A Gender-Proof Guide To Promotion, and then, after more negative press still, re-retitled Don’t Touch Anyone Ever For Any Reason: Getting Promoted The Asperger’s Way.). This was a man born then reborn then rebranded again, an ever-evolving marketing cyborg programmed to hashtag and retweet its way to the top.

The product itself was a fat, slimy Florida avocado. How their firm was able to land another produce client after their past debacles was a puzzling mystery to most. The Head Account Executive who’d brought in the business knew the answer, but he was on forced administrative leave following a sexual harassment suit levied at the firm. He’d acted shocked when the papers were served, not understanding how one measly grope, twelve suggestive drunken text messages, and a not-even-fully-erect dick pic constituted as harassment. He was a leftover relic of an era in marketing that no longer existed, a dinosaur who’d forgot to fossilize, and the firm’s younger uprising of board members were happy to push him out, leaving Junior Executives scraping over each other in bloody backstabbings, passive-aggressive memos and peer-reviews of past-failures, for a shot at his leftover clients.

Of course it would turn out later that it was Bravo-Toaster who’d convinced the intern, a woman he’d had fired for mangling a job she wasn’t qualified for to begin with, to levy the suit. He’d played both sides perfectly in the ensuing chaos, even comforting the Head Account Executive’s wife (a woman who’s dosage of Oxy for the treatment of “migraines” had reached such a point she wouldn’t have felt a beheading, let alone a headache) with a hand-written letter, an idea he’d gotten from a popular listicle entitled Ten Things Old People Wish Still Existed, while simultaneously showing in-house initiative with his introduction of DiversifiHiRe, a proposal for shifting HR hiring practices away from the men who considered other white men who dared wear khakis in the workplace diverse, lauded for its creative incorporation of capitalization and vague spelling.

The resulting hires from DiversifiHiRe were a young, ambition-crazed marketer’s wet dream, an army of diversely colored and gendered robots, all programmed to spout the same ridiculous social media market trends and ideas for improving return on investment, an ROI or DIE squad. Slightly younger, impressionable, and eager to save the world through viral marketing, Bravo-Toaster worked them over one by one, adding them on Instagram, Twitter, hell, LinkedIn, collaborating on memes and memory shares, building relationships, networking nightly, until at last, they all adored him, backing him in every meeting and #THINKSPACE forum.

And there they all were, stacked to the brim in his technicolor ark, hanging by the edge of their seats, waiting, wondering how their mystical savant marketing savior would deliver the word of the Slimcado, a bigger, heftier avocado, to the legion of granola moms concerned about their Fitbit regulated caloric intake.

“A webinar, obviously. I didn’t get where I am by NOT watching webinars now, did I?”

And as it began, so did it end.

Potato Of The Day Episode 97

parsnipsThanks for seeing me, doc. I’ve been having a really hard time lately. With what, right? Well, where to start… I’ve been having these dreams, doc. I guess you could call them nightmares. They’re real vivid and animated and whatnot, manifesting nearly every night now. Now doc, it ain’t nothing morbid or sexual, it’s just odd. In them, I’m me, well sort of, we’ll get to that in a second, but I’m mostly me, I guess. I sure feel like me, anyway, minus a small detail. But anyway, in these dreams, I’m always getting chased, I feel like I’m running for my life. I know you’re probably wondering who’s chasing me, but that’s the thing, doc… It’s not a who, it’s a what.

They always start out the same. I’m just minding my own business, relaxing at home, when all of a sudden, the ceiling crumbles open, and I’m ripped from my home! Ripped, doc! Right into the air! Then, boom, I’m thrown on the ground. I get up, look backwards, see it, and I just start running as fast as I can. I run and I run and I run, but every time I look back that thing is gaining on me. Massive paws, flopping ears, bouncing closer and closer with every step. It’s horrifying, doc.

But that’s not the weirdest part. That almost makes sense, getting chased by a crazed buck-toothed ball of fur. That’s just a monster dream, ya know? Deep down, we’re all a little scared of monsters. But doc, it’s when I look at myself, when I see my reflection as I’m running away from whatever that thing is, that I feel the most concerned. Cause doc, in my dreams? I’m orange.

Now I don’t know about you, but I ain’t ever seen an orange parsnip before, doc. That ain’t right. It’s like my subconscious wants me to be something I’m inherently not, transforming me like a cartoon or something. Like I’m not being who I really am, you know? But I’ve been thinking about it, and I don’t know where that’s coming from. I’m happy as me. I’m happy as a parsnip. But those dreams, doc. They’re haunting me. Orange. Why orange?

You know, doc, you ain’t said much this entire session. That’s not like you. Normally you cut in, interrupting me and what not. But today? Nothing. In fact, why are you sitting over there in the shadows? Got a headache or something? Long night out? Uh, doc? Why are you standing up? Gosh doc, you don’t look so well. Awful lot of hair on your face, doc. You forget to shave? Been to the dentist? I don’t remember your front teeth looking so big. You know you sat on a cotton ball? It’s stuck on ya pants. Why ain’t you talking, huh? What’s going on here? Say something, doc! Go on! Tell me what’s going on here! Tell me something! Anything! Please. Just… WHAT’S UP, DOC?

Potato Of The Day Episode 96

romatomatoesSorry if I’m a little subdued today guys, but this morning I suffered a little trauma. Some dude hit my Roma tomatoes. Yeah, I know. It’s just not right. I’m still recovering, still a little sore over the whole ordeal. Frankly, right when it happened, I wanted to puke. But I didn’t. I’m a man. Have to stay strong in the face of adversity and all that, you know? So I just knelt down and held those hurting Romas in my hand, and I nurtured them. And then I tried to go about my day, but dude, that Roma hurt is still there.

What kind of man hits another man’s Romas? That’s sacred fruit we’re talking about! You don’t do that. It’s not cool. No, it’s not. Romas are precious. They should be treated like the fragile Faberge eggs that they are, protected and guarded like family jewels. Because really, they need our protection, and our consensual agreement not to attack them. They’re helpless! You don’t attack the garden area, man. That’s gotta be in the Geneva Conventions. Someone please look that up for me. I would, but, I’m so hurt, I can’t bear the thought of standing. I’m drowning in a pool of deeply emotional physical pain, you know?

Can you picture how hard it would be to be a Roma? To live that life? The same thing, day in, day out, unless your world is ripped apart by a sudden and unexpected attack. Sure, there’s minor variance in the Roma world, they come in different shapes and sizes, varying in color and hue, some wrinkling, some smooth, some filled with way more juice than others, but in the end, they’re all biologically the same. They’re all Romas! They all get by with nothing more than a thin layer of skin covering their seed. They all bruise. They all dangle just below the vine.

I can’t stop thinking about all those other poor Roma tomatoes suffering rampant abuse in the world. It might be accidental, a little love tap. It might be intentional, a deliberate kick. But either way, it’s all pain. There’s nothing good that comes from Roma hurt. You know what happens when you get hurt, like a real nasty, cut or scratch? You have to sterilize the wound. Well the same is true for your Romas. If they get hurt badly enough, they get sterilized. We can’t have that. It’s bad for their species. It’s bad for our species. Protect the Roma tomatoes, dude. It’s the right thing to do.

Potato Of The Day Episode 95

redbananasHey guys, your momma’s so fat, the grocer sold her as a plantain! HAHAHAHAHA! Oh what’s the matter bananas, you feeling a little red? You know, because your skin’s pigmentation and whatnot! #BURN. Just like your sunburnt looking ass! GOTCHA AGAIN! So I heard that red bananas have a slight mango flavor. You know who else has a slight mango flavor? YOUR MOM! Because she’s also a red banana, and human beings like me eat red bananas so therefore I’d know what she tastes like. HA! Get it? No? Gosh, you red bananas really aren’t enjoying this, huh? What gives? Seriously, why so angry guys? What are you, Bruce Bananer? Well two can play that game. YOU WON’T LIKE ME WHEN I’M HUNGRY! HAHAHA!

Oh hush, calm down guys, there’s no reason to get yourself in a bunch. #TOOLATE! #SICKBURNTHESEQUEL. I didn’t realize you guys had such thin peels! You know, instead of skin. That’s a sick play on words, banabros. Woah, woah, woah! Where are you guys going? Okay, okay, my bad! There’s no reason to split! HAAAAAAAAA! Sorry you guys, I just can’t help myself. Unless we’re talking about a profitable export from East Africa, in which case, I can’t help you because you’ve already been picked! Haa… wait, that one wasn’t very good. Kind of like you, am I ripe? HIGH FIVE THIS PLAYA! Oh wait, you can’t! Because your fruit is called a finger, not a hand!

Alright, alright, I know I’m not being fair. I need to give you a chance to return fire. So hit me with it red bananas, give me your sickest burn. ROAST ME!

Annnd… that would have been a great comeback for a SILENT film. You know, because you didn’t say anything? You know, because you don’t have mouths to make sounds with? You know, because silent films also didn’t have mouth sounds in them. HA! Man, am I on a roll today or what? Just like you when you’re covered in cream cheese! BOOM! Pastry recipe humor in the house! I like you guys. Really, I do! I think it’s all that potassium. Without it, you’d really be cramping my style! Oh boy, someone spray me down cause I’m on FIRE! Just don’t hose the bananas, that’s their skin, not flames! #TWOTHINGSTHATARERED

Okay, this has been fun guys, but I need to run. You’ve been great, a real top banana! For real guys, you don’t need to listen to anymore of my banana oil! I mean this has been a real banana skin for you! #SEQUENTIALBANANAIDIOMS Okay, maybe just one more! PENIS, YOU LOOK LIKE A PENIS. Ha! Well, that one could use some work. It was sort of low hanging fruit! I know, why don’t you go hang out in a banana hammock until I figure it out… HA! Get it? Because, penis. From before. Jokes. Ben out!

Potato Of The Day Episode 94

acornsquashI don’t know about you guys, but I’m getting really sick of this creeping acorn squash season bullshit. I mean, come on. It’s not even September yet. Why the hell are acorn squashes on display? Can’t we let our kids finish going back to school before we put those out? Do we really need to just sweep all the bright red Delicious apples under the rug already? This is madness. NO ONE NEEDS AN ACORN SQUASH IN AUGUST. No one. No, shut up. You don’t need one. I know you don’t. You’re just being a dick.

Think about it. When was the last time you bought an acorn squash? Maybe, what, January? Exactly. Because it’s a fucking WINTER squash. Does it look like winter outside to you right now? If it does, ease off the LSD dude. You’re in too deep. There’s no logical explanation for a winter squash to be rocking the grocery store shelf in late August. The first day of FALL isn’t for another month. Sure, sure, call me a denialist all you want, but I don’t need to be rocking winter seasonal squash when we’re over an entire SEASON away from winter. THAT’S LUNACY!

And it’s not just acorn squash. It’s everything. Halloween candy is in stock now! Because who wouldn’t want to stock their cabinets full of high fructose corn syrup 67 days before they’ll need it? You’ll only be at the store, what, a dozen, a dozen and a half, more times before then! WHAT IF YOU FORGOT?!!!? (Okay, shush, don’t be person who brings up my paper towel problems. It’s not fair to use me against me.) And heaven forbid you don’t have your candy corn ready to rock before Labor Day. WHO COULD BEAR THAT FUCKING TRAVESTY?

This isn’t acorn squash’s fault. Acorn squash didn’t decide to put itself on display in August. In fact, acorn squash has never made a decision in its entire life. That’s because it’s squash, a decidedly non-sentient object. But you know who is sentient? You know who can think? You know who can make decisions? You. Yes, you can. Even you, LSD dude. So when you’re out grocery shopping this week, make the right choice. Don’t give in. Don’t buy an out of season acorn squash. Don’t be an enabler to the creep of acorn squash season. You’re better than that. We all are.