How did my blog come to be named Cheese on a Stick, you may ask?
Well, when I was younger – probably around the 6th grade, as a matter of fact – my friends and I formed the elite(l33t!) squad called the Buffmonkey Mafia.
As you can see, this mafia was very elite and important. Our battle cry was BUFFMONKEY MAFIA UNITE! (UNTIE for our dyslexic members, of which there were none).
Though we were definitely a mafia, we didn’t do much of anything. We went to the skating rink a lot. I do not condone rollerblading of any sort. Rollerskating is the way to go. Just ask those cool-as-hell chicas in the Mafia picture above.
Of course, my mafia name was Cheese on a Stick. Have you ever had cheese on a stick? Please, if you have, let me know in a comment. I’m dreadfully curious. For those of you who haven’t had it, it’s wonderful. It’s basically a corn dog, but instead of a weiner, you get CHEESE in the middle. Wonderful, gooey fried cheese. Now, do NOT confuse these with cheese sticks. Cheese on a stick and cheese sticks are two very different foods. Cheese sticks tend to have mozzarella inside, and we often dip them in marinara sauce. Cheese on a stick, however, is full of gooey American cheese food (or every one I’ve ever had, anyway), and god only knows what all you could possibly dip this delicacy in.
The last cheese on a stick I had was when our mall had a Corn Dog 7. I used to ride to the mall with my sister (well before I could drive myself), and I vividly remember eating cheese on a stick on one of those ventures. Better than Christmas.
Ok, not really.
Anyway, my mafia name stuck with me.
According to UrbanDictionary.com, this is the definition of cheese on a stick:
Someone who is too cheesy to describe; anything and everything they do is pure cheese.
Will Smith in anything.
by CheeZy BeanZ
String Cheese is now my roommate. She enjoys decorating the house at random, watching season sets of tv shows obsessively, drinking beer, buying stuff from ebay and smoking Marlboro Lights. Sometimes she tries my food creations with gusto.
Holy Cheese is now married to a guy from South Africa and works at a bank close to my office. Sometimes she brings me coffee mugs full of candy when I’m at work, and we email one another obsessively on slow days. Holy Cheese enjoys steamed vegetables, The Biggest Loser, African-themed decor and her husband.