Underdogging the snot out of beet
Underdone on April 26, 2026.
I ate a bowl of borscht on Buesday. It was full of beets. My bowl of bouillabaisse on Bednesday beat it though, hands down. Beat the snot out of it.
I once asked, “Is there an underdog in you?” On Saturday, I did my big little redheaded huzzey-muffet underdoggy-style and found out the answer: No.
On Thursday, I returned to the grocery store and demanded to know why snot was one of the ingredients in the canned borscht they sold. The grocer hadn’t a clue. When I pressed the issue, he threatened to beat the snot out of me! I told him good luck trying—I was just as snotless as their soup! He didn’t have an answer to that, so he turned around and left. Then he remembered he worked there, returned, and—huffing and puffing mightily—told me to leave. I left. And now I’m back home twickling out this week’s blog post.
Back on Monday, I found lying abandoned in the road an entire football field. It wasn’t lying end-to-end with another one, nor were there any Libraries of Congress or Rhode Islands out and about. At least none I could see. (About 3.7 Rhode Islands can fit inside Bouillabaisse Boulevard, if you must know.)
Becasue was still walking funny and wouldn’t talk to me. Nurdlebutt was walking funny too. She didn’t have an underdog in her either, come to find out. But there was that tomcat that had been prowling my street lately. I blamed him.