Last Updated On October 14, 2018

 

Hot damn See you licking frosting from your own hands Want another taste, I'm begging, "Yes, ma'am." I'm tired of all this candy on the dry land, dry land -DNCE

 

 

My husband is sick from over-indulging last night but I am A-OK. Even though my stomach has half the capacity of his.
I think its because I have a genetic pre-disposition.
I didn’t need 23 and me to figure it out
And I might’ve risked my eligibility for health insurance by disclosing but…

I am part Mermaid.
And not one of those glamorous, disney types either.
I have no interest in becoming “part of your world”.

I’m a norse mermaid cryptid,
with sharp crustacean cracking teeth,
a tangle of net-like hair bedazzled with the remnants of my last meal,
and a crashing, powerful, forked tail.
I am a flash, a curiosity, and maybe even a temptress.
But also a devourer and deterrent.

I can husk and consume seafood like its my job. But none of that fried shit. And none of those limp-ass corncobs and random potatoes.
Don’t try to trick me! I’m a god-damned mermaid.
I will flip this table with my sodium fueled rage
and knock you out with my garlic butter breathe!
No I don’t need a bib-
Are you fucking judging me right now?!

I paw through with abandon, but at the same time with clear purpose.
NO CRABMEAT LEFT BEHIND!
I will ferret it out. I get juice in my eye,
But I keep going.
My fingernails are caked with Old Bay.
BUT I KEEP GOING.

The carnage is pelting my partner and he says,
“Are you enjoying your dinner, dear?”

Because thats how you treat a mermaid- with equal parts gentleness and trepidation.

I notice no one is seated near us.
I am happy.
More room for my tail.

The waitress seems nervous as she daintily removes the detritus,
And I don’t think its because we are having a romantic interlude…

I’m pretty sure it had to do with the reckless wielding of a nutcracker
And the crab leg jauntily tucked behind my ear
Lazily waving goodbye to the world,
While I gesture my approval for another coconut flavored cocktail

 

Last Updated On October 14, 2018

 

Hot damn See you licking frosting from your own hands Want another taste, I'm begging, "Yes, ma'am." I'm tired of all this candy on the dry land, dry land -DNCE

 

My husband is sick from over-indulging last night but I am A-OK. Even though my stomach has half the capacity of his.
I think its because I have a genetic pre-disposition.
I didn’t need 23 and me to figure it out
And I might’ve risked my eligibility for health insurance by disclosing but…

I am part Mermaid.
And not one of those glamorous, disney types either.
I have no interest in becoming “part of your world”.

I’m a norse mermaid cryptid,
with sharp crustacean cracking teeth,
a tangle of net-like hair bedazzled with the remnants of my last meal,
and a crashing, powerful, forked tail.
I am a flash, a curiosity, and maybe even a temptress.
But also a devourer and deterrent.

I can husk and consume seafood like its my job. But none of that fried shit. And none of those limp-ass corncobs and random potatoes.
Don’t try to trick me! I’m a god-damned mermaid.
I will flip this table with my sodium fueled rage
and knock you out with my garlic butter breathe!
No I don’t need a bib-
Are you fucking judging me right now?!

I paw through with abandon, but at the same time with clear purpose.
NO CRABMEAT LEFT BEHIND!
I will ferret it out. I get juice in my eye,
But I keep going.
My fingernails are caked with Old Bay.
BUT I KEEP GOING.

The carnage is pelting my partner and he says,
“Are you enjoying your dinner, dear?”

Because thats how you treat a mermaid- with equal parts gentleness and trepidation.

I notice no one is seated near us.
I am happy.
More room for my tail.

The waitress seems nervous as she daintily removes the detritus,
And I don’t think its because we are having a romantic interlude…

I’m pretty sure it had to do with the reckless wielding of a nutcracker
And the crab leg jauntily tucked behind my ear
Lazily waving goodbye to the world,
While I gesture my approval for another coconut flavored cocktail

Last Updated On October 14, 2018

Hot damn See you licking frosting from your own hands Want another taste, I'm begging, "Yes, ma'am." I'm tired of all this candy on the dry land, dry land -DNCE

My husband is sick from over-indulging last night but I am A-OK. Even though my stomach has half the capacity of his.
I think its because I have a genetic pre-disposition.
I didn’t need 23 and me to figure it out
And I might’ve risked my eligibility for health insurance by disclosing but…

I am part Mermaid.
And not one of those glamorous, disney types either.
I have no interest in becoming “part of your world”.

I’m a norse mermaid cryptid,
with sharp crustacean cracking teeth,
a tangle of net-like hair bedazzled with the remnants of my last meal,
and a crashing, powerful, forked tail.
I am a flash, a curiosity, and maybe even a temptress.
But also a devourer and deterrent.

I can husk and consume seafood like its my job. But none of that fried shit. And none of those limp-ass corncobs and random potatoes.
Don’t try to trick me! I’m a god-damned mermaid.
I will flip this table with my sodium fueled rage
and knock you out with my garlic butter breathe!
No I don’t need a bib-
Are you fucking judging me right now?!

I paw through with abandon, but at the same time with clear purpose.
NO CRABMEAT LEFT BEHIND!
I will ferret it out. I get juice in my eye,
But I keep going.
My fingernails are caked with Old Bay.
BUT I KEEP GOING.

The carnage is pelting my partner and he says,
“Are you enjoying your dinner, dear?”

Because thats how you treat a mermaid- with equal parts gentleness and trepidation.

I notice no one is seated near us.
I am happy.
More room for my tail.

The waitress seems nervous as she daintily removes the detritus,
And I don’t think its because we are having a romantic interlude…

I’m pretty sure it had to do with the reckless wielding of a nutcracker
And the crab leg jauntily tucked behind my ear
Lazily waving goodbye to the world,
While I gesture my approval for another coconut flavored cocktail