Discover more from Squirrel Tomatoes
Episode Seven: Marisa Miller
This one is about cum and also not about cum
Squirrel Tomatoes chronicles my attempt at growing tomatoes while battling squirrels. You can read my last installment, The Swamp.
It also features guest authors who I ask to write anything they want as long as it is at least 69 words in length. I gift them $50 for their efforts. I do not edit them, and they retain all rights to their work.
Today’s guest author is Marisa Miller. She is a mother of two in Wisconsin who is a three time top-five winner of my yearly-ish favorite food writer lists. She states this is probably her greatest accomplishment.
I love what Marisa wrote.
Get Jizzy With It
by Marisa Miller
Try to stuff it all in but it don’t even fit.
I don’t know how old Jesus was the first time he got a handjob but I was 19 when I jerked on Roger McPherson’s rubbery white penis until stuff came out. My girlbrain said ‘ugh’ but my future chefbrain screamed PRODUCT!!!!!!!!. I was hooked. It took about 5 minutes. Not a bad exchange for some tacos at SuperAntojitos and the drive-in. Roger was Homecoming King and Quarterback. I had recently had an orange mohawk. It was very heady stuff.
Product is completion, a way of saying ‘this job is done and I will take a break now until I get more materials and ideas and make something else for you to exploit and devalue.’ It’s how to measure time if you are a farmer or fence builder, meth-cooker or glass blower. Hourlies and eaches. I had no particular attachment to the source, but I understood the power of taking an object in your hands and squeezing in such a way that a solid emits a substance and a high protein one at that. Then the boss takes a nap and you get a macchiato.
I am I am I am I said I wanna get next to you
When you are young, a handie is a nice way of saying ‘I am not going to stick your dick in my mouth but I’d like to still be friends who go to brunch and you pay for bottomless mimosas’.
When you have been married almost 20 years it is a pitiful gesture that says ‘I sort of still love you I guess but I really need to know what Lisa Vanderpump is up to can we check in tomorrow maybe if Below Deck isn’t on?’
If a problem comes along you must whip it
I had a boyfriend in cooking school. We hated each other for 2 quarters and started banging before he went off to fish for salmon on his family's boat and I cut off all my hair and bleached it blonde in protest. He had a gargantuan dick and rust colored Eurovan and made memorable pappardelle. He also poked fun at me in that cool way where you laugh at yourself without feeling stabby about the person torturing you. His name was Dave.Of course it was. All chefs with line skills and giant penises are named Dave. It’s a thing. He gave me something no man ever had. He taught me to emulsify.
Probably to save his own skin, he told me to flip my wrist over. Instead of my natural inclination to grip as if wringing out a sponge, he instructed me to grip the whisk like I was making a jerkoff motion. “Pretend you’re giving me a handjob’ was what he said while I whipped sabayon in front of him oblivious to the dining room full of people eating rigatoni with sage cream.
We made a roux thick as spackle for cream sauce and I gripped that spoon up, down ,and sideways until it couldn’t move anymore. We are still friends on Facebook and I wonder sometimes if he taught his wife his technique.
His children seem lovely.
Wanna run up in the lab and cook like me
I tried to be gay once with a girl who looked like Janet Jackson during Velvet Rope. Big red weave and tongue ring. I met her on a chatline when that was how people hooked up. The Stranger, bless it’s heart, when Dan Savage was the sex columnist and Lindy West was still in high school and I didn’t get it. She brought a bunch of dildos which in person made me laugh and seemed especially weird in person. Not Lindy West. The Black hot lady whose name I can’t remember but I can see her sitting on my bed eating pfries with tartar from Dick’s and drinking prosecco with almond from Trader Joe’s. The only time I ever went that way. Too confusing. Like
running your hand under a car hood looking for the release. No product. I understand a hard-on. A problem that has a solution. It says “I am here deal with me and then let’s do something useful like make sandwiches” A puzzle with all the pieces. A completion. A milking without porn. I stan for dick but not men. Pledged in splooge, redeemed in splooge only.
In the food chain I’m the one that eat ya
I collect mayonnaise. It’s my anglo-sexual rebellion. It says that I have secret condiment powers, no matter how bland and gloppy they may be. Some people get very excited about Duke’s and BLT’s but maybe Hellman’s, the tubes from Germany and the Netherlands are genius, and I like a very spicy aioli for my tuna in lieu of the Miracle Whip my nana used in hers.
The Jizz King is Japanese Kewpie in an unusually soft bottle that feels like hefting a perfect C-cup and when you squeeze it into egg salad it’s like the Lord’s own junk squirting out a message to the masses about mustard seeds being tiny and unimportant when compared to sandwich spunk. Praise this holy nectar. Lick the slickness from the roof of your mouth and swallow.
Thank you, Marisa.
Please join us next time for an interview with Cathy Barrow.