If you recall, back in the day, I blogged about two words that had become near and dear to me, the first being obliterated, and the second being nom nom. If you don’t recall, catch up.
Nom nom has been a word in my vocabulary for over 10 years, beginning when we got our cat/dog, Smudge.
When I was five years old, we got our cat. I wanted to name him Fluffy, Snowball, Figuro, Snowy and/or any other lovey-dovey name a five year old could think of. Thank you Dad for coming up with the name Smudge, we wouldn’t know how appropriate that name would be until he grew into it…literally. Smudge was no Snowflake.
Anyways, Smudge was the apple of my eye for the next 18 years of my life. He was a good nurse when I was sick, a good companion when I was scared or sad, came when you called for him [even outside] and was an excellent snuggler [he is also the reason I can fall asleep, and stay asleep comfortably, in half of a twin bed.] He wasn’t your typical cat and acted [and weighed] more like a dog. I hated all other cats except for Smudge [and my best friend Jackie’s cats, of course].
Now that we are through the back story, I’ll cut to the chase. The neighborhood vet referred to Smudge as “Arnold Schwartza-kitty” because of his massive size [we preferred the term big boned, thank you very much] and often told us that he needed to be on a cat diet.
Smudge’s life revolved much around habit- I will explain briefly:
- He very knew exactly where we kept the cat treats, and very quickly learned how to open and slam the cabinet shut when he wanted one of us to get some for him.
- If we didn’t come fast enough, he would continuously open and slam the door shut so that we knew he was waiting. Our cat had trained us.
- He learned that people food was much more delicious than his boring, old Mariner’s Catch cat food (which was, by the way the only kind he would eat) and we constantly shared dinner with him as he got older.
- Smudge’s favorite culinary items were milk, warm chicken, mashed potatoes and the juices from canned tuna, some people may argue that feeding Smudge these things were harmful to him, but he lived until he was 18 years old, which converts to about 88 years in “people life.” Beat that, Bette White.
Upon being fed, Smudge would mange face, no matter what it was he was eating. He would eat so fast that he would begin to make uncontrollable noises when he ate, sounding much like nomnomnomnom. Smudge was the only animal I had ever known to make noises whilst eating. Often times I envisioned it as what an obese person would sound like if they were to eat as fast as possible, while thinking they would never eat again.
The term “nom nom” is born. I was eight.
Fast forward to last night, and we have a serious problem.
As my mom and I were laying on the couch for a lazy Sunday night television session, we stumbled upon the Food Network show called “The Great Food Truck Race,” clearly we were hurting for something to entertain us, and we’d already seen the episode of Criminal Minds, standard.
Regardless, as we begin to watch, one of the food trucks was named, you guessed it, Nom Nom.
Gasp! The Horror! No! They copied me!
Our family room was in an uproar, and for the first time ever, it wasn’t me doing the over reacting.
Insert my mom’s [very defensive, very motherly] rant about how I created the term “nom nom” and how I should be getting rights to said Nom Nom truck and all public appearances associated with it.
Sigh, just another example of how I am living a trend setting life, even as an 8 year old.
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