SEARCHING FOR A BETTER TASTING CARROT

The best ideas come when you first wake up because your brain hasn't yet been fried with TV commercials and glamour models all day. A couple morns back I awoke and had this idea to write about a phony, ambiguous trend called "saucing" and at the time it seemed like a great opportunity to knit literature for comedic purposes. But now, two days later, I don't really remember what it is I even meant, but I think I'm going to try to do it anyway. So here is the classic, fake, 2010 article by Muck Hooten, originally published in the New York Times Magazine.

How to Sauce
By Muck Hooten

I stand with my back flush against the lockers in a rural Long Island high school. On my right is Kato Singerblot, an impish tenth grader brandishing a backward ball cap and new whiskers, probably the result of puberty. In his front shirt pocket sits an old fashioned key that points upward toward the grin of a trickster. On my left is his fake brother Manheim Blitch, a full four feet taller than his counterpart, but wearing the exact same outfit except instead of a key there's a bouquet of black pipe cleaners. The hall is deserted but we're not talking, that is until a group of cheerleaders, the Boggs High Dancing Darlenes, emerge from the haze and enter our field of view. Kato and Manheim grab my right and left hand respectively and when the girls are in audible range we start reciting our favourite starting lineup of any team of any sport we want and kick our shoes at the passing girls. I man of my age would expect the girls to call the principal or their daddies on their flip phones citing abuse, but to my surprise they bow to us and offer soft caramels and light hugs. This is the new generation. This is Sauce.

"Where did it start? Man, that's like asking how come ice cream is cold. It started in Memphis though by my fake cousin Bradley," Kato explains later that day while we hang out in a hole in his parent's backyard, a typical dwelling of those who sauce.

"It's less an attitude and more a way of life, but with a fresh philosophy and a total disregard for semantics while embracing a punk ethos and an Eastern attitude," Manheim adds while sipping pineapple juice out of a pencil case. "All this stuff we do and the way we live is just Sauce, you know? In the nineties they raved, in the aughts they surfed and here and now we Sauce."

After the two fake brothers encouraged me to stare at the sun for ten minutes while getting a haircut, I met with their mothers for tea on the veranda.

"I was a hippie in the seventies so I understand where they're coming from. But I did get kind of upset when my Manheim slept on the car during October. He said 'Don't have a groan mommy, it's Sauce Month 2, so don't freak out,' and that made me feel a bit better."

Mrs. Singerblot shifted nervously in her seat as she sipped her Earl Grey when I asked her how this trend has affected her family.

"I can't figure it out. One day he's got raisins up his nose and the next he's combing his hair with a cast iron skillet. But at least he's not listening to rap music."

Okay, so the rest of that would've seen me just making up more silly stuff that these guys do and you don't need to hear any more of that. Looking back I like how they all call each other a fake member of their family and I like the idea of drinking things out of silly things. I think now I'll move on to the feature that People Magazine called one the most beautiful people of 2009, the WHAT I DID AND HOW I AM Pot Pourri sampler:

VACATION BONUS PHOTOS:

Before I left the country I had to drink a small barrel's worth of hog fat.

This is me "feelin' out" Italy

EXTRA PERSONAL FACT

When I was in the backyard during childhood my pants caught on fire. I panicked, yelled out loud ".....WAIT...STOP DROP ROLL! STOP DROP ROLL!", then I stopped, dropped, and rolled and I got a scar.

SPECIAL POEM

Don't eat fire
It'll hurt you bad
Don't eat tire
No, wait, that's rad

FOR YOUR CONSIDERATION