You’ve just been snacked!

Show some love for Ericka today! Ericka Clay is a writer, mother, wife and consistent asker of “Why is this wet?” She writes a humor blog at Creative Liar, waiting until the day a publisher finds her and makes her a famous author. She’ll keep you posted. She blogs at Creative Liar.
There’s not a lot of things I do well in this life. Okay, that’s a lie. I rock a pretty tight low pony and do a mean impression of my husband. And I’m serious. It’s mean. I actually made him cry once.

But something I do above and beyond all that is create an ultimate snack.

Matt and I are snackers and as all good snackers know, you don’t snack attack first. You wait until your competition has made a measly peanut butter sandwich and then you pull a bagel with lox out of your ass like I saw Marty Clemson do at the 2006 Snack America Championship in Boulder Flats, Wyoming. But I don’t recommend it. Cream cheese everywhere.

I can whip up a sushi roll so fast it could make your spine break. Marty would be proud.

Matt’s learned from the master (Me. Duh.) so when he whips up a toasted sourdough English muffin with pizza sauce and melted, hand shaven Parmesan cheese, you can hear me doing a slow clap and shaking my head as dramatically as all get out from a mile away. And then you can hear my startled, half awake preschooler start bawling. The girl just doesn’t appreciate a good snack.

So in the spirit of blogs being helpful and not at all about narcissistic, “heads up their asses,” Skecher Shape Ups wearing writer types (God, I hate people like that), here are a few tips on out-snacking the competition.

Head gear. Some people can sense a good out-snacking like my dog can sense a creepy photo opportunity. They can get mean and will sometimes attempt to smack your cranium with the closest frying pan. This has happened to me more than once. Like five times. But I can’t be sure. I see stars when I count now.
First rule of snack club? There is nothing a grater won’t grate. I grated a penny once and let me tell you, that was the best bowl of ice cream I’ve ever eaten. Sure, my mouth perpetually tastes like metal now, but it’s better than the alternative…mouth.
Sometimes it’s not even about the snack. It’s about the show. When I was out-snacking Matt once I lit two wine bottles on fire and kept juggling them with my right hand while my left was busy flambeing plantains. It really was the best President’s Day ever.
Go loud or go home. If your kitchen doesn’t look like Mike Tyson just bit a hunk out of it once you’re done whipping up a snack show, then I suggest you borrow a copy of Marty Clemson’s Snacktastic: The Marty Clemson Saga to teach you a few pointers on achieving ultimate snackdom. If you haven’t busted an ear drum, you haven’t made a snack.
There you have it. Precious glorious snacking tips that will keep your food boner engorged. Okay that was a little too graphic, even for me. Here, let me do you the favor of smacking your head with a frying pan to get that image out of your mind.

Hold still.

Comments

  1. Thank you so much for featuring me today!

  2. Christina Yother says:

    You are hilarious! Fellow snackers unite!!

  3. Ericka,
    I just realized why my sense of humor deserted me and seems to have attached itself to you. I am not snacktastic enough, because I’m lazy. Doh!
    Kina

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