#humor

I don’t like dirt, because nothing is dirtier. Except politics.
 ↗

— Jarod Kintz

#corruption #dirt #dirty #filthy #funny

When he heard there was nothing to eat, he sat down and wept… “Why did I ever wake up!” he cried. ↗

— J.R.R. Tolkien

#hobbit #humor #food

Like most humans, I am hungry...our three basic needs, for food and security and love, are so mixed and mingled and entwined that we cannot straightly think of one without the others. So it happens that when I write of hunger, I am really writing about love and the hunger for it... ↗

— M.F.K. Fisher

#humor #food

First month honey. . .Next month pie. . .Third month. . .Get out here and work, you damn bitch, same as I. ↗

— Karen Cecil Smith

#marriage-advice #marriage

Mother could go for one year without food, but not one day without her lip sticks. ↗

— Barbara Kingsolver

#wordplay #food

Don't eat 'til you're full; eat 'til you're tired. ↗

— Andrew Zimmern

#humor #food

There was a time when the one singular thing that held a marriage together was the threat of getting the kids. ↗

— Erma Bombeck

#marriage

The potatoes were starch grenades. The canned carrots were revolting because that is their nature. ↗

— David Mitchell

#humor #food

Success. I turned back to my sandwich, only to find that it wasn’t there anymore. Maybe because it had been hijacked. “Give me that!” I told the vamp, who was holding it firmly against his chest, a determined look on his face. “What ees zat?” he demanded, eyeing my prize. “Cheese.” I held it up. “Zat ees not cheese.” “How do you know?” “Eet is orange.” “A lot of cheese is orange.” “Non! No cheese ees that color. Cheese comes from zee milk. Zee milk, eet ees white. When ’ave you seen milk that looks like zat?” I held up the square of little slices and pointed at the bold-faced label. “Processed American Cheese.” He snatched the package, without letting go of his hostage. And eyed it warily. “Eet says ‘cheese food.’” He looked up, obviously perplexed. “What ees thees? Zee cheese, it does not eat. ↗

— Karen Chance

#humor #food

Some enterprising rabbit had dug its way under the stakes of my garden again. One voracious rabbit could eat a cabbage down to the roots, and from the looks of things, he'd brought friends. I sighed and squatted to repair the damage, packing rocks and earth back into the hole. The loss of Ian was a constant ache; at such moments as this, I missed his horrible dog as well. I had brought a large collection of cuttings and seeds from River Run, most of which had survived the journey. It was mid-June, still time--barely--to put in a fresh crop of carrots. The small patch of potato vines was all right, so were the peanut bushes; rabbits wouldn't touch those, and didn't care for the aromatic herbs either, except the fennel, which they gobbled like licorice. I wanted cabbages, though, to preserve a sauerkraut; come winter, we would want food with some taste to it, as well as some vitamin C. I had enough seed left, and could raise a couple of decent crops before the weather turned cold, if I could keep the bloody rabbits off. I drummed my fingers on the handle of my basket, thinking. The Indians scattered clippings of their hair around the edges of the fields, but that was more protection against deer than rabbits. Jamie was the best repellent, I decided. Nayawenne had told me that the scent of carnivore urine would keep rabbits away--and a man who ate meat was nearly as good as a mountain lion, to say nothing of being more biddable. Yes, that would do; he'd shot a deer only two days ago; it was still hanging. I should brew a fresh bucket of spruce beer to go with the roast venison, though . . . (Page 844) ↗

— Diana Gabaldon

#humor #jamie-fraser #nature #outlander #food