The greatest gifts my mother ever gave me were my 10 fingers. Like seriously….they beat out the Playstation 2 I got for Christmas 2001.
My fingers have always been there to help me out. Always there when I needed assistance in math, kept me hanging on monkey bars, and gave me company during lonely nights…but we won’t get into that.
These ten bony, bendable fixtures have been the outlet for my creativity, athleticism, and skill, and have poked around countless Pringle cans, bodily crevices, and tapped in more Grand Theft Auto cheat codes than I care to remember.
I love those little bastards.
But what I truly covet most about my fingers is that they’ve always kept me fed like a 24 hours Denny’s.
Folks,I must admit….I adore biting my fingernails. My steady diet of wedgie-pickers and back-scratchers has been confused for anxiety and apprehension.
Alas my friends, have no worries. I simply have an insatiable appetite for my mother’s genetic home cooking.
You’ll know I’m enjoying my meal when I go back for seconds…then thirds…then fourths, fifths, sixths…you get the picture.
It’s like a never ending buffet of crunchy, salty snacks; and the best part about it…..I don’t have to share.
Yeah, I love digging for gold and peeling off stickers on fruits as much as the next guy, but goddamn, do they taste GOOD!……..At least it ain’t crack cocaine.