Dude Note: To honor Celiac Awareness Month and to help raise awareness of our disease, I will be attempting 31 blog posts in 31 days. My goal is simple: to make most of them not suck. If you’ve got ideas for a good post or if you’d like to guest blog
, by all means, contact me
. Your input is more than welcome. And if you know anybody with celiac disease, give them some extra lovin’ this month. They deserve it.
I put today’s post in the same category as my celiac haiku post. It really has nothing to do with our disease, but I figured, what the heck? Being serious all the time about celiac can be a drag. No need to explain this one…just humor me and read on. And if you’ve got some others, my blog is your blog. I’d love to hear them. —————————————————————————————————————————————–
Go ahead. Make my whey.
All right, Mr. DeMille, I’m ready for my endoscopy.
Mrs. Robinson, you’re trying to gluten me. Aren’t you?
(Credit to Laura in the comments below for this one.)
I love the smell of Pamela’s in the morning.
I’m mad as hell, and I’m not going to eat this anymore!
Show me the Mary’s!
Gluten? We don’t eat no stinkin’ gluten.
You know how to eat bread, don’t you Steve? You just put it in the toaster and pray.
May the flax be with you.
I feel the need…the need for Udi’s.
I’m going to make him a quinoa he can’t refuse.
Gluten-free, for lack of a better word, is good.
As God as my witness, I’ll never eat pasta the next day again.
Say hello to my little food choices.
I see tired people.
A census taker once tried to test me. I ate his liver with some fava beans and a nice Chianti. But first I had to make sure there was no cross-contamination.
You can’t handle the food prices!
Love means never having to say you’re Schar-ry (yeah…I know).
Dominos, we have a problem.
What we’ve got here is a failure to use my blue sponge.
Frankly my dear, I’m going to take a nap.
There’s no place like home. (No need to change this one since for celiacs…there is indeed no place like home.)