Skip to main content

Cheesecake Through His Nose

I've always known my son was talented, but I had no idea of the depth of his abilities. Tonight he snorted his birthday cheesecake out his nose. No, really. He did. If there are any talent scouts out there reading this blog, and you're looking for someone who can shoot New York style cheesecake out his nose, he's your man.

The only friend he had over tonight was Jobe. I'm not sure why he didn't want more of his pals over for pizza and cheesecake. Since it was his fifteenth birthday, who was I to say he had to invite more people? Jobe said something that triggered the cheesecake-through-nose response. I heard everything Jobe said and yet I managed to maintain my cheesecake in my mouth where it belonged.

At any rate, I have a picture of him with his cheesecake before he did the unthinkable with it. Let's hope he develops a more marketable skill in the coming year.


  1. "I'm not sure why he didn't want more of his pals over for pizza and cheesecake."
    Perhaps his other friends are more discriminating than Jobe. I have never seen anyone fire cheesecake through their nose, and am therefore perhaps not in the best position to judge, but it does not appeal to me.
    Perhaps Jobe will bring Eliphaz, Bildad and Zophar with him next time. They should brighten up the festivies.

  2. Cheesecake appeals to me, just not snorting it through the nose part. That was pretty disgusting.


  3. I can do beer through my nostrils. It's a pub trick that is completely involuntary as once the desire to laugh sets in there is a point of no return, even if you are taking a deep draft at the time. I also once did spontaneous tea through my nostrils at Michael Dooley's house. Michael's dad was a prison officer at the borstal where "Scum" was filmed so I think it was nerves when I heard him come in. He really was the daddy.

    Pamela, that has probably gone completely over your head and ! apologise.


Post a Comment

Go ahead....tell me the truth :)

Popular posts from this blog

A Poem to an Abusive Man

I've been doing a bit of research on abuse, domestic violence and how it usually ends. It's not pretty and it's painful and I hurt every time I read another woman's tale of horror.

Did you know that emotional abuse is as detrimental as physical abuse? And that most emotional abusers continue on to become physical abusers? I didn't. I do now. I found a site where formerly abused women, on the path to recovery from their abusers, have written poems. This one below is one that haunted me.

Thank You

You wooed me with poetry
I bit on the hook
Had I only first read
The name of the book

I would have avoided
The very first page
For pages kept turning
Revealing the rage

The ups were a great high
The ride was a bash
But I rode with my eyes closed
To avoid seeing the crash
I knew it would come soon
But I never knew when
The rage and the leaving
And the path to the end

You had to control things
Determined you would
Emotionally destroying me
Every way that you could

Elderly Abuse

I heard a loud thud the other morning around 3:30 a.m. I checked my monitor but he'd once again turned it to the wall so I was unable to see if he was still in bed. I went downstairs right behind my sweet husband and dad was on the living room floor moaning and holding his head. He'd fallen. Hard.

The first picture is the day of the fall. The second is the day after. The black eye keeps blossoming. He has a gash on his head, hidden by his silver hair and he skinned his shoulder/arm. He's a mess.

Was he using his walker? Nope. 85 year old toddlers cannot be told what to do. Or rather, they can be told what to do, they simply won't comply. Ever. In fact they get down right angry and throw fits. It's not pretty.

His physical therapist came to the house the next day and strongly told him to use his walker EACH TIME HE STOOD UP. Has he? Nope. Nyet. He was very angry with me yesterday because I kept asking him to use his walker. Also, I asked him i…



Back on the horse
Monkey on his back
I see no light
Not even a crack
Back to delusions
Back to the lies
I see through his words
He can't hear my cries

Back into his soul
Back into his veins
The poison he pours
Dark liquid his chains

Backed into a corner
Heartbroken and torn
Back into the needle
The eye of the storm

Back to the wall
Soul bruised torn and broken
Back to my pain
His eyes half open

Back into the horror
Will he ever come back
Back into the nightmare
A needle in a sack

Back into his childhood
I loved him with fury
Looking back on his life
His choices my jury

How did this happen
Back to evil and sin
How can he do this
Lines on his skin

Back to my weeping
Back to my sorrow
My son, my love,
Has no more tomorrows
(all rights reserved)