Genetically Predisposed

by Cajun Kate

So last night I got an email from my oldest bro Charlie Roy totally taking issue with something I wrote on this here blog. Hmmmm, what could it be?

Could it be the fact that I called him out for not coming up with the idea of a surprise party for his wife? Nope! Could it be the fact that I basically made up totally exaggerated a phone conversation between us? Nope! Could it be the fact that I continuously poke fun at the city (and I use that word as loosely as possible- see? Still doing it!) of Baton Rouge in which he lives? Nope!

What COULD it possibly be?!? Check out the email with me:

I read your blog and wanted to help you get your facts correct. It was I, as well as Theodore, who ranted about the Southern Cobbler. In fact, I may have been telling Ted about it, and he said he had had some. I don't remember.

Anyway, it is freaking awesome!

Sincerely,
Charlie Daigle (KBS)

That's right! All the other s**t I've said about him? Meh. But NOT giving him proper credit for influencing my ice cream purchases? Failing to give him kudos for leading me to possibly the most delicious ice cream ever? NOT ACCEPTABLE! This proves once and for all that we Daigles have a recessive gene that makes us food whores. We eat it, we love it, we rave about it, we dream about it, we plan vacations and special events around it. It's genetic, I tell you!

And yet, somehow, I'm the only one who ended up looking like this for a quite a few years:

*Sigh* Yeah, 'cuz when it comes to the rest of the genes, you know, the ones that WON'T turn you into an obese troll, I totally got shafted! So ya know what, Chuck? Ye of the tan skin, perfectly sculpted nose, never needed braces teeth, can lose twenty pounds in a week genes? I want you to know that I failed to give you credit ON PURPOSE! Because I knew it would drive you nuts, and I wanted to get back at you for getting all the good DNA.

Not really. I was just too busy at the party stuffing jambalaya and chicken salad croissants in my face to pay exact attention to who said what. Forgive me, dear brother. Much like I've forgiven you for being able to read and subsequently reproduce to perfection John Folse recipes, you good Daigle gene inheriting f**ker! Oh, um... love you, bro!