Random Things Heard at Bunco Last Night

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This is What Happens When You Drink an Entire Bottle of Wine By Yourself

Random Tuesday Thoughts couldn't come at a better time, because I am less than coherent and totally on a random path.

So let's just go.

Boobs.

I've got big ones. Seriously, I could end up with black eyes if I tried to run a spint. Someday, I'm going to get a boob-ectomy, but for now, I'm stuck with the big ones that take up waaaaaaay too much room in my shirts. It is quite the bummer because I could breast feed using only one position - the football hold. You literally hold your baby like you're tucking a football. The timing of this conversation was totally ironic because we're totally watching da Bears vs the Vikings right now.

I seriously hope the the Vikings lose. Not just because I'm from Green Bay and am totally pissed that Favre left to go the Jets then on to a rival team. But because I just watched the movie Kicking and Screaming with Mike Ditka and I really want him to have a good night with da Bears winning.

Good thing there is spell check. You guys should have seen that previous paragraph prior to spell check. There are words like "totaltally" and "pised" and "MOVIE".

Also, it's a good think I'm wearing waterproof Mary Kay Ultimate Mascara. I keep laughing, and tears are forming in the corners of my eyes. I'd be a raccoon if it wasn't waterproof.

That's really hard for me too, wishing da Bears a victory. Being from Green Bay makes it really hard to root for either da Bears or the Vikings. It's like ripping my heart out. Unless you've been there, you just have no idea.

The Wine Bar has the best Shrimp Parmesan dip. It's wonderful because they serve it with warm French bread. It's super crusty and there is no just taking a bite right off the baguette. You would end up with way too many unladylike crumbs on your boobs. Unless you're flat chested. Being as I have big boobs, I would have the crumb problem. To be ladylike (aside from the snortful, drunken laughter), I broke up the baguette.

The Wine Bar has a huge full length mirror directly across from the toilet in the ladies room. If you're a "wide wiper", you can look at your pretty parts. I'm not sure if it's the same in men's room. I didn't go check it out. Really, what would be pretty about that?

Dang it, a Bear just got hurt. Look out! Mama bear is upset. I can't have them hurt; it might ruin their lead. Mama bear - that hurts too. But it's better than being a Viking.

Seriously, I do not have a single pretty picture of a Viking woman in my head. They'd all be named Helga - Helga Favre. Not a pretty part. A bear is really a much better picture - sad.

Well, that's it for my random thoughts. For the guys, let's end on the same note as we began.

Boobs.

Silver Lining:

1. While the Vikings and da Bears were playing in cold, cold, cold Chicago, no one's armpits were showing signs of emitting steam. That would have been weird and wrong.


2. The Wine Bar is only a quarter mile from home so you can leave during a commercial and still make it home in time to make fun of the Vikings without missing a play.


3. Keely's got lots more people with coherent random thoughts. Perhaps, you should pop over there. Click here, or on the purple button all the way back at the top of the page.

It's Not Just The Concert

In case you're just joining me this week, Hubby and I went to Chicago this past weekend. The catalyst for the trip was a Jimmy Buffet concert.

If you've never been to a Jimmy Buffet concert, it's not just a concert. If you've ever been to one, you know this already. The concert is only half the fun.

The pre-concert tailgate parties are a cornucopia of entertainment in and of themselves. You don't even need a ticket for this!


As Hubby stated in his post, he got totally wasted at a Jimmy Buffet concert last year. He promised me this time we would walk out like this:


And I wouldn't be dragging him out by one foot because he looked like this:


If I had to drag him out, I would totally be freaking out. Not just because we spent so much money on a weekend in Chicago solely to attend this concert, but because he would have turned into a woman!

We were wandering around the parking lot looking for his co-worker (Hubby also covered this in his post), and we saw some awesome, party-ing Parrotheads.

As well as some a**es:


Then, there were a few who were proud of their deodorant. Or they were just really happy to be there. I don't know. I didn't get that close enough to ask:




Lots of Parrothead paraphernalia:





One of my favorite pieces of paraphernalia is this:


One of Jimmy's (yah, we're on a first name basis) songs is simply called "Fins". When the song comes on, you're supposed to put your arms above your head making a shark fin with your hands. My five year old can name that song in two notes, puts her hands above her head and says, "Fins Up!" Wow, what are we warping her mind with?

This guy really cracked me up:


Looks like an innocent Parrothead, right? Oh, no. He had a fishing pole and was casting out beads. As soon as someone reached for the beads on the ground, he'd reeled them back in.

Perhaps that's why I saw this sticker I saw on the ground (quite near him):


It was time to go in the stadium. I thought I'd have to put away the camera, but Hubby graciously offered to "sneak" it in for me.

How are you going to do that?

He grabbed his crotch.

And I let him do it.

Then, I used it!

Once we were inside the stadium, the beach balls were blown up faster than a woman with PMS can down a bag of chocolate chips.

Yes, that's beach balls at a concert. Jimmy expects it to be a beach party. And who goes to the beach without their balls? Well, us apparently. We didn't have one of our own, but there were plenty to go around.

Since, I had the camera, I took pictures:


Our seats were pretty far away. Even with the zoom extended as far as possible, I couldn't get any kind of detail up on stage. Good thing Hubby had his binoculars with automatic image stabilization.

I put the camera lens in the ocular lens of the binoculars to take these pictures. Sorry they're blurry. We'd had a little bit to drink before hand and there was a lot of crowd movement. Keeping the binoculars AND the camera steady was a tough job.





Silver Lining:

1. It was a great concert.


2. Hubby remembered it this time.


3. I didn't have to kick his butt.

PS - Turns out Hubby didn't have to sneak in the camera. We completely missed the sign that said that cameras under six inches (aka point & shoot) were allowed. *sigh*

The Training Paid Off

(FYI - This is a guest post from The Hubby)

Last night, Wifey and I completed our pilgrimage trip to Chicago to go see Jimmy Buffett in concert. This was our third time seeing him, or the second-and-a-half time seeing him for me. You see, we showed up about 3½ hours early for the show last time, and we proceeded to party (i.e., drink non-child-approved beverages) heavily for that entire time.

In my infinite wisdom, I decided once we got inside that we STILL hadn’t had enough, and bought us each another monster-sized margarita. That was apparently just enough to put me over the top, and I don’t remember much of the concert after that. On top of that, I managed to lose a $250 pair of Maui Jim sunglasses somewhere in the amphitheatre lawn.

So, having squandered that opportunity to see him, I vowed shortly afterwards that I had to make every effort to see him again. That concert was the first time he’d come to our town in 8 years, and he wasn’t coming there this year. Who knows if or when he’ll come back to our town again (after all, Jimmy Buffett isn’t getting any younger), so I figured I needed to look at surrounding cities.

Chicago’s a few hours away, but it’s doable. We’d gone to see Bill Cosby there a few years ago, so selling Wifey on the idea of going to Chicago for a concert shouldn’t be too much of a challenge. The bigger challenge was selling Wifey on the idea of me buying concert tickets at all – she just wasn’t real keen on the expense this year. She knew this was important to me, though, so I think her response was, “Whatever you decide, dear” (which of course meant I was going to buy the tickets).

I knew after the concert last year that I’d get my butt kicked if I ever got that inebriated at a Buffett concert again, so I’ve been in “training” ever since. Seriously, it seems that just about every kind of social gathering in Pleasantville involves alcohol. At the time of the concert last year, we’d only been living in Pleasantville a few months, but this was now almost a full year and a half later. Some of you might recall the time I tried to bend glass – this was part of the strict training regimen I was committed to follow. (In case you missed that story, click here to read more about it).

The night of the big event had finally arrived. We didn’t get as much time to party beforehand this time – traffic in Chicago was INSANE (even on a Saturday – there’s no way I could live with that all the time). That managed to cut a full hour off of our planned partying time. So, since we didn’t have as much time, I decided that I needed to get caught up in a hurry.

Granted, I didn’t drink as much in quantity this time, but what I lacked in quantity I made up for in speed. In under an hour, I’d managed to put down a little more than half of a gigantic bottle of Cuervo golden margarita. Unfortunately, Wifey was making me share it with her, so that’s when I ran out of liquor.

This was enough liquor for her, though, that she managed to get the brainiac idea of going to try and find one of my co-workers based on the time he arrived. You see, it turned out that he was also going to be attending the same show, and we were supposed to hook up together beforehand. However, I’m not sure if he turned off his phone or if he let the battery die, but I couldn’t get hold of him when we got there. I’d found out earlier in the day about when he was planning to get there, so her plan was to walk around to different areas and find out what time the people in that area arrived.

Now, get a mental picture of this – I’m sure you’ve all been to a big concert or sporting event at some point in your life. Imagine one big parking lot for everyone in attendance – we’re easily talking about several thousand cars. On top of that, there were apparently multiple entrances to the parking lot, so finding an area that parked about the time he was supposed to get there didn’t necessarily mean it was the right area.

We never did find him, but we did manage to see some interesting sights. Wifey did manage to get a number of interesting pictures that I’m sure you’ll get to see in the coming weeks on either this blog or her Picture This blog. I also managed to score a mighty tasty shish-kabob from a fellow parrothead (for those of you who don’t know, that’s the name for fans of Jimmy Buffett).

So enough of my digression into Wifey’s brilliant idea – let’s get back to my story. As the title said, the training paid off. By the time our little expedition was over, it was about time to go in. We got inside successfully, and we even managed to successfully “sneak” a camera in, when it turned out that cameras weren’t even banned in the first place. (I’m sure she’ll tell you more about that story at some point). We both managed to make it through all of the concert, and saw a heck of a good show.

So, in the tradition of this blog, here’s the silver lining:

1. I didn’t get my butt kicked by Wifey for drinking my way through another Buffett concert.


2. Our tenth anniversary is coming up in a couple weeks, so our trip to Chicago was kind of an early celebration of that, and we had a fantastic time (except for the traffic – we’re both SO glad we don’t live there).

Watch Out Superheros of the World - You've Got Competition

It’s my 100th post!

(As long as you don't count the contact me, profile, etc ones for the nav menu)

Sorry, it’s taken me a whole week to post something new, but I was hoping something extraordinarily funny would happen this week to write about. But it didn’t so I’ve got to reach back into the archives of my brain.

Watch out folks, the dust could choke a small child and send all you allergy types to the hospital for a breathing treatment. I didn’t have to reach back too far, it’s just that I don't like to use my brain all that often.

Back in April, I told you all about the Pleasantville Beer Tasting event. Lots of fun, but last year’s was even better.

In case you’re too lazy to click back to my prior post, I’ll give you a quick run down on how the beer tasting event works:

1. You pay to get a card listing 20 beers. The card has the name of the beer, country of origin, and a brief description.


2. You get a 3 ounce cup of each beer (we opted to get 2-4 at a time – you don’t want it to get warm) and the distributors put an “X” through the box to the left of the beer name. You’re only allowed one taste of each unless you’re a pretty good flirt, or you know the people distributing the beer (I had both these things going for me)


3. The event is 2 hours long.

Swoosh, swoosh, swoosh (that’s the sound of time going backwards). Ah, we’ve reached Summer 2008, night of the first Pleasantville Beer Tasting event Hubby & I attended, near the site of the first fill-your-beer-tasting-card-first contest.

We filled our cards within two hours. Hubby claimed I cheated because I gave away some of the nastier tasting beers. Not that it mattered, he filled his card first. There wasn’t Moose Drool on the list, but some of it tasted like gutter water.

Using my flirting skills I scored myself an entire bottle of some beer from Brazil – I remember it being the best one. This was after consuming more than the equivalent of a six pack (considering I gave some away) in two hours.

Then, our friends Ken & Barbie knew one of the distributors, and they had extra bottles of beer left over. Scored another beer or two here as well. It was no Brazilian beer, but at that point the taste buds are so numb, who cares?

Hubby and I stumbled over to the amphitheatre to “watch” the band. The amphitheatre was only a block away, but we felt the need to wheel our bikes over because we didn’t want to leave them at the Wine Bar (where the beer tasting event took place – weird, I know). I kept bumping them on the pedals so my shins were bruised all to hell the next day.

We parked our bikes at the top of the amphitheatre and plopped down on a bench. I saw a friend about 20 yards away and told Hubby I’d be “right back” because I wanted to talk to her. If any of you have ever read my post about breaking and entering, you would know that I NEVER come “right back”. After 15 minutes, Hubby came stumbling over and hung out with the guys.

Someone offered him a bottle of beer.

Why would you do that? He could barely stand up as it was.

By this time, I had started sobering up. While Hubby doesn’t remember this, I remember it very clearly.

Hubby came running (in a weaving, stumbling kind of way) with the most excited look on this face (kind of like his proud I-ate-half-a-watermelon smile).

“I bent glass! Look, I bent glass!”

He turned around and repeated this to anyone standing nearby and shoving the beer bottle in their face to show them the bent neck.

This continued for about five minutes as he made his way around to everyone standing in a 10 foot radius.

Someone finally pointed out he was holding an aluminum bottle.

He had tried to twist off the cap (aluminum bottles are not twist offs) and ended up bending the neck of the bottle.

Silver Lining:

1. I had sobered up enough to remember this proud moment.


2. While Hubby doesn’t remember, I’ve got witnesses.


3. Just like this year, we rode our bikes so there was no driving involved. Unlike this year, we had to walk the babysitter home (we didn’t even want to drive around the block).

PS – While we felt the need to move the bikes a block to the amphitheatre, we didn’t feel the need to move them over by our friends. The bikes were completely obscured from view because of all the people there. Good thing we live where we do. They were still there later, and they weren’t even locked up.

Do the Marketing People Laugh to Themselves When They Come Up With This Stuff?

So, I was at Target the other night because I needed to pick up a couple of prescriptions. Hubby was kind enough to keep the kids at home so I just had to walk the aisles – I couldn’t help myself. Sad, that I see going to Target without kids as an escape, a luxury, if you will.

Once I got home and unloaded my purchases, I observed the following oddball information on the product tags:

• I got an awesome insulated bag. It’s just the right size to lay at least six bottles of beer on their side & zip it up. This is important because we live in a community where people regularly carouse the streets & impromptu gatherings occur. You need the bag just in case. Of course it would be better if I could find one where the bottles (we don’t do cans, we’re bottle snobs) stood upright, but this will do.
  
  Here’s the tag on the outside of the bag. I didn’t actually read the tag at the store. I saw the size & that it was insulated. I didn’t care what it was intended for.
  
  
  
  Since I already had beer on my mind, I thought the fact that I could have a lunch of eight beers was very intriguing. Really, how many times have you thought, “I need a drink” at lunch time? While eight beers might be excessive for one (depends on how badly the day was going), you could find some other poor soul & share.



• Still on the bag. Check out the tag on the inside.
  
  
  
  California Innovations, based in Toronto Canada, but made in China. I just found this to be quite humorous. I wonder what the guy developing the tag thought.
  
  Hmmm, I’m representing three countries on this tag. I wonder how many more I can get. [imagine phone dialing] Hey, Tom, are you sure this 8 Can Lunch Bag was exclusively made in China? Were there any other countries involved? Did it stop in Australia when it was shipped over here? [pause] It has an Arctic Zone tag on it. How about the Arctic, did it go there at all? [more pausing] OK, thanks (in a deflated tone). [phone hangs up] Darn it, I’ll just have to leave all this extra white space. Would have been cool to include Australia.



• Then, there was the toilet bowl cleaner.
  
  
  
  Huh? Kills the flu virus?
  
  I’m sorry, I never thought about catching the flu from a toilet bowl. Does the flu virus travel via human waste? I’m not touching, let alone drinking toilet water so why should this be of importance? I guess if you flush while still sitting, some vapor water could splash up onto your butt. Does the flu some how work its way in from there? After you flush, are you rubbing your butt? Aren’t you washing your hands?
  
  I think “Kills the flu virus” is a stupid claim.



• Finally, I went to McDonald’s before shopping.
  
  
  
  Iced Mocha – served hot or cold. Wouldn’t it just be a mocha if it were served hot? Enough said.

Silver Lining:

1. Shopping alone – definitely nice.


2. Along with all the other stuff I bought, I managed to remember the original purpose of the trip (prescriptions). I hate it when I leave a store, get half way home, & then remember that I was supposed to get X, which is why I made the trek out of “the compound” – Pleasantville has almost everything you need on a given day including entertainment so you generally don’t have to leave except for that whole work thing and the occasional trip to Target.


3. I’m not going to get the flu from my toilet anytime soon.

Jewel of a Find

I had been searching and searching for the right piece of furniture to act as a sideboard in my dining room. I needed something that wasn’t any deeper than 14” and had storage. A charger and serving platters had to fit in it too.

Oh yah, it had to be cheap, but nice. Hubby was a little tired of my decorating expenses. Sometimes you have to give them a little sense of control so I agreed to look for something less than $75.

I found things on Craigslist, but they were either too ugly, too expensive, too deep, too long, too tall, too not storage-y.

Then miracle of miracles, I found one that was nice looking, perfect depth & length, had plenty of storage, a little on the tall-ish side, but it was FREE!

How did I come upon this jewel? Well, it all started one night after dinner.

Ken, Barbie & brood had come over for dinner. The kids were driving us nuts so they were relegated to the upstairs. Hubby & Ken got out Guitar Hero (the one that only cost $5.65 – are we lucky or what?) and started jammin’. So Barbie & I were left alone for chit-chat. That by itself is a miracle.

A few glasses of wine (each) and lots of girly talk led us to the office closet. I can sense the gears in your brain moving. You know all the men reading this leaned forward and went “there”, right?

I just “had” to show her the fabulous curtain material I scammed a deal on (The guys just slumped back in their chairs. Did you hear it? I’ll be lucky if they bother to keep reading).

While poking around, Barbie noticed a bookcase. Cherry in color, glass doors, about 14” deep. Now the gears in our brains got chuggin’. They had totally been slowed down by all the wine.

“Why don’t you use this in the dining room?”

“Because it’s filled with crap.”

“Get a measuring tape, let’s see if it will fit.”

“Barbie, look at all the CRAP. And there’s all this crap on the floor in front of it.”

You could barely walk into the 6X6 closet!!

I rolled my eyes. We measured the bookcase.

“Fine, I guess it will fit. Now where am I going to put all this crap.”

“Worry about that later.” She started taking stuff out and setting it on the futon. Sure, I’ll worry about it later. Like when she’s gone home and doesn’t have to worry about it herself.

The futon was loaded up and we were ready to move the bookcase out of the closet. We needed those moving men thingys – good thing they were part of the crap that was in the bookcase earlier.

As we were pulling/pushing the bookcase out of the closet, we had to turn it right away, but the futon was in the way. Since we had loaded it up with crap, it was heavy. Some of the crap needed to be moved. So we put it by the closed side of the double doors to the room.

With the futon out of the way, we made tracks across the office floor to the door. Crap! We needed the second door to the room opened to get it out. We had to move the crap back to the futon.

To get to the dining room we had to go through the family room. The boys were in the middle of a song so we just stood there letting the bookcase hold us up (remember a lot of wine was involved – our limbs were wobbly enough without the added deprivation of oxygen from all the crap movement).

When they finished (never mind pausing the game), they moved out of the way so we could push it across the room. Did they help us? No. Did they even offer to help us? No. We didn’t really need them, but it would have been nice.

After quarter-inching (you know when you move something just a smidge to the left, right, back, forward, up, down and then move it back again – this drives men nuts, you women should try it sometime for a little fun and/or revenge for whatever manish thing he did) the bookcase about fifty times, we got it right.

Five kitchen cabinet shelves later, all the fancy-wear made it to the dining room.

Barbie & her brood left, and of course, I still had an empty office closet and a futon full of crap.

Hell’s bells, I’ll worry about that later!

Silver lining:

1. I have five empty shelves in the kitchen – whoo who, I can move the miscellaneous kitchen gadgets out of the pantry and into the kitchen. More room for food – we like food so it’s a good thing.

2. Did I mention the bookcase was free? Of course, I paid for it at one point, but in accountant speak, that’s a sunk cost.

3. All the crap made it back into the office closet right before my mom came to visit three weeks later. Did it take me three weeks to move it all back? Oh, no – it took three weeks to come up with the motivation.

4. I managed to use the word crap 13 times in one post. Gee mom, you must be so proud.

1/2 Ounce Per Minute

Consumption of a half an ounce per minute does not sound too bad.  I guess it depends on what you’re consuming.  Hotdogs, pie, hamburger, pizza, beer . . .

 

120 minutes, 3 ounces, 20 different beers.  Who’s in?

 

Hubby & I were.  It was time for the annual Pleasantville Beer Tasting Event.  Now, I’m a chic and I can not drink ANYONE under the table.  I’m the one who usually ends up there.

 

But the contest was on.  We had two hours to taste three ounce samples of twenty different beers.  Everyone attending the event had a card with the names & a short description of the beers (we’ll get to that in a moment).  As you got your sample, the server would “X” it out.  Whomever could fill their card with X’s first wins.

 

Unfortunately, I had to forfeit right off the bat.  I had my card and a pen handy at all times (forgot the black notebook at home) and was using my plastic cup to hold it down. 

 

Forget it – the wind just saw that as a challenge to see how fast it could pick up my card; thereby, tipping over my cup.  That happened on my fourth, sixth & seventh cup of beer. 

 

I finally learned my lesson and just held onto the card.  But not until I had spilled all three beers in the direction on my friend, Sugar’s, husband.  He finally got up an moved.  No one would sit across from me from that point on.  I felt like I was at the kids’ table, but there weren’t any other kids.  Are you shedding a tear for me yet?

 

I tried to explain that the wind was just assisting me in not acting like a beer sconge (that’s SCOH-nj, not SPUH-nj).  A beer sconge is one who only receives or takes from someone, but never offers any up.  See, I was just trying to share and be a giver.  Yah, no one else was buying it either.

 

Put the card in my pocket you say?  No way.  I needed it handy to write down the goofy shit.  The more I drank, the more difficult it would be to get the card out of my pocket.  I was liable to rip my pocket and I really like the pants I was wearing.

 

Now, I gotta tell you about some of the beers on the list.

 

Cooper’s Vintage Ale (Australia) – A robust English Ale from the land down under.  Robust indeed.  I’d like to know how it is still considered an English Ale.  Hasn’t Australia been independent from England for a long time.  We do not claim anything we develop is English, we call it American.  Hmmmm, puzzling indeed.

 

Curim Golden Celtic Wheat (Ireland) – An Irish Wheat Beer?  Heck, let’s give it a try.  Maybe I’m biased because I’m Irish, but this one was ok.

 

Weihenstephan Hefe Weiss (Germany) – From probably the oldest  brewery in the world.  Yup, this tasted old!  One table mate described it as tasting, “like it was filtered through my used toilet paper.”  That may have been a little strong, but it really wasn’t good. 

 

By the way, do you really think they needed to put the “Germany” behind the name?  With a name like that, I’m thinking, DUH!

 

Lindeman’s Peche Lambic (Belgium) – If you’ve loved their Raspberry Lambic, then give this peach a try.  Well, I’ve never had the Raspberry, nor was it offered so I’m not sure this was a good way to describe the beer. 

 

Anyway, this beer came in a champagne looking bottle.  I knew right away this was the beer for me (even if I’m not a peach fan).  Will & I had two different opinions on this one. 

 

My opinion was, “The brings new meaning to champagne taste on a beer budget.” 

 

Will’s opinion, “If I were camping with the boys and making bacon & eggs over a fire, this would be the perfect beer for breakfast.”

 

Big Sky Moose Drool (Montana) – This Brown Ale is proclaimed to be the best brewed beer to come out of Montana.  Good grief, I don’t even want to know what the second best is, let alone the worst!  Besides, can you believe “champagne” girl drank Moose Drool?

 

Schlitz (Wisconsin) – Nostalgia galore!  Our dads drank this!  No kidding, does this take you back?  My dad used to keep beer in the basement fridge (his preference was PBR, though), but I don’t think he ever saw the inside of it.  It was the job of us kids to fill it up when a new case came home, fetch a beer when asked, and take inventory on a regular basis so Mom knew when to get another case.  Honestly, this beer was better than most on the list.

 

That’s just the top six, the other fourteen are nothing to write home about.

 

We had a really good time and can’t wait until next year.

 

Silver lining:

1. We finished our cards with five minutes to spare.
2. We rode our bikes so we didn’t have to drive home.  I didn’t even fall down!

The Plan

Men think women put way too much thought into a gathering of any sort. Well, I have news for the guys – you’re no better.

“The guys” go out on the same night every week and it is almost always at the same place at the same time. This was one of these ordinary nights, but apparently some thought had to be put into it.

So here it is.

S (the defacto leader): I might be a bit late .. I have to do some work..Here is the project plan I put together.. (insert the sound of crickets chirping. Typical guy – there is no plan) Oh, and re-installing irix was as simple as constructing an atomic bomb in your garden shed, from 2 paperclips, some wood glue, and a dead panda, whilst your arms are tied behind your back.


J: Sounds like a good plan to me….

C: I plan on being there…….oh, and you may want to check, but I think there is a New Town ordinance requiring express written permission for building an atomic bomb in your garden shed. I heard that permit is slightly easier to get than a permit for the garden shed itself.

J: Also remember you are not permitted to keep live pandas on your property, so any of the aforementioned pandas must be killed offsite…

D: My project plan is to drink as much as R.

S: I will bring the helmet then. Apparently, D is a light-weight and has fallen off the stool after having just a few beers. I am running the things that I am supposed to be doing during the maintenance window now so I should be on time.

Does this mean he was multi-tasking or simply (actually) doing his job?

D: Is R going to be there?

S: So far R has not committed.

D: If he doesn't come that screws up my project plan.

R: Sorry, T (the wife) screwed up my plans tonight. And noooo it's nothing sexual related.

As far as he knows, it wasn’t sexual related. Maybe T had him committed. You know, being restrained in a white coat is erotic for some people.

The message from R came in after guys night had already commenced so S brought the helmet for nothing. Leave it to a man to screw up the plan.

By the way, the helmet had Care Bears on it – sounds masculine, doesn’t it? I’m sure they made D wear it regardless of R’s presence – like I said, he’s a light weight. It’s better to safe than sorry.

Silver Lining:

1. My husband, in this case, is not R. I suppose that is somewhat obvious since I would not be “T”.


2. My husband, got a new drink recipe, which I’ve dubbed the “Shirley Tumble”, as in drink a few of these, and you will surely tumble to the ground. 3 Olives vodka (cherry flavor) and sprite – ala Shirley Temple with a kick!


3. Congratulations to J – you’ve accomplished your goal this week – your family made the blog! Your wife will be so proud!

The Head Fake

At Carnegie-Mellon University, it is somewhat of a tradition for departing professors to give their “last lecture” to a public audience. In 2007, one of their professors, Randy Pausch, was dying of pancreatic cancer and delivered a (now quite famous) last lecture – so much so that the term “last lecture” has become synonymous with his presentation that day. In case you’ve never seen it, the link is here: http://www.youtube.com/watch?v=ji5_MqicxSo It’s a little over an hour in length, but it’s a very good presentation – definitely worth watching.

Anyway, one of the things he talks about is the “head fake”. Essentially, it’s the art of distraction – getting you to pay attention to one thing, while something entirely different is happening on the side, such as with an illusionist. Now that you know what the term means, you’ll understand the title a bit more. You see, we went out to dinner with my mother-in-law over the weekend, and she didn’t want to become the subject of one of my blogs. So, on Monday, I published something entirely different, knowing full well that I was going to be publishing this one later in the week. Therein lies the head fake.

My brother-in-law, Steve, and I have birthdays in January. Every year, my mother & father-in-law graciously take the adults out for a nice dinner. This year was at Kitaro, a hibachi restaurant where the chef cooks your food right in front of you.

We did not all arrive at the same time (they only seat your entire party) so there was a little time to belly up to the bar. My in-laws had already had a couple of drinks, but there was one in particular they said was really good and the bartender was just itchin’ to make it. The “Volcano” is billed as a two person drink. Thinking it was something like a fishbowl margarita, I told her I could take it on myself. She raised her eyebrows and went to make the drink.

Dude, it was sooooo cool. Obviously, she didn’t believe me when I said could drink it myself because it came with two super long straws. But the niftiest feature was the flame in the center. That’s right, the drink was on fire! I took one long sip and made the “whah” pucker face and shivered. It was pure alcohol. This must be a standard reaction because the bartender was standing by with a cup of juice. She asked if we wanted juice poured in (only an alcoholic would say no). All I could do was nod my head because my face was still contorted in the pucker.

After we were seated and ordered our drinks, my mother-in-law ordered some spring rolls as an appetizer. Apparently, there were a few too many made while they were at the bar so the bartender let them have them for free. She said they were really good and wanted us all to try them.

When the spring rolls arrived and were placed in front of her, she said, “Who ordered these?”

“You did.”

“I ordered these? Well, ok. Here, pass the plate for everyone.”

I did not want one so I didn’t even look at the plate, but apparently there was some kind of sauce.

Now, my sister-in-law has once or twice, at various meals, dirtied up the table cloth. Since then, there is always a comment telling her not to spill on the table cloth – fortunately, she is good natured enough to take a joke.

I tell you this because as the plate is being passed between my mother-in-law & sister-in-law, it got tipped and the sauce slid off. There wasn’t a table cloth so I guess my mother-in-law's plate was a good enough substitute. Needless to say, my mother-in-law needed a new plate.

During all this commotion, one of the straws from the Volcano fell to the floor. Had this been a utensil or a soda straw, we would request a new straw. But since it was going right back into the alcohol, we figured all the germs would be killed off. Besides, the five second rule was still in effect.

Our chef, Sam-I-Am (who likes green eggs & ham), was excellent! He was the most entertaining of all the chefs I could see. He was constantly clattering on the grill, flipping stuff up in the air and/or into his hat, making flames (more fire!) while cooking our food the entire time. I turned down the onion soup and grilled onions, but accepted the onion fried rice with no onions – he made it special for me.

While we were watching Sam-I-Am, I looked at Hubby and said, “He’s noisier than you.”

Hubby in turn said, “Yah. If I had a flat stove, I could do this.”

I thought, 'My ass, you could cook like this.'

Do you know how dirty my ceiling would be? Never mind the floor. We have a textured ceiling and I would never get all the eggs he flipped up in the air off it. As I think about it now, he may have been referring to the amount of noise he could make. Note to self: NEVER buy a flat stove.

At the end of Sam’s cooking show, he was tossing grilled shrimp at us. He used his spatula to flip it up and we were supposed to catch it with our mouths. He had really good aim, but none of us actually caught it with our mouths. My mother-in-law technically caught a shrimp. A hot shrimp hit my mother-in-law in the neck and bounced into her shirt so she did end up with a shrimp hickey and a little surprise for my father-in-law later.

Silver lining:
1. I am very blessed to have in-laws that I love and even like. And I think they generally like me, but after this, I might be in the dog house.
2. Dinner was fantastic, not to mention entertaining. Almost as entertaining as Thanksgiving at Hubby’s aunt & uncle’s.

Kids, You Gotta Love 'Em - I Think It's in the Rule Book

Let me start off with this: I am not an obsessive drinker.

There are a couple of establishments in my community that specialize in adult beverages. One in particular is smoke free - The Domain Street Wine Bar.

The "Wine Bar" is a very small and intimate place with live music at least once a week (jazzy stuff). There are a few tables for two, one round table for 4-6, a corner booth & a long, beautiful wood bar with three framed, vintage looking mirrors behind it. They have outdoor seating which is great for warm days, and there are french doors across the entire front of the bar, so the outside can join the inside on especially nice days. One of the coolest features, in my mind, is a little side room.

The room is separated from the main room of the bar by two, floor to ceiling book shelves. You enter the room by walking in between these massive shelving units filled with books left over from days of the Prancing Pony (a no longer existent bookstore & deli). There are some gauzy curtains to close over the opening if you like, but that always makes me feel a little creepy. It makes me think that the people outside think there is something kinky going on inside.

This room is perfect for ladies night out, book groups, or any other small groups for that matter. I belong to the neighborhood "Needle Arts Group" and we use the room once a month. It's great because there is good food, good drinks & good company. You can imagine what my crochet projects look like by the end of the night. Because the entire bar is smoke free and low-key, it is ideal for a relaxing night out; thus, it's become a favorite.

All of this leads up to my daughter's comment on Friday.

Cupie (from the back seat of the car): I'm going to a birthday party tonight, right?

Me: That's right.

Cupie: Stinkles is going to Tessy & Prancer's church tonight, right?

Me: Yes.

Cupie: And Daddy is going to fix someone's computer?

Me: That's right honey.

Cupie: So what are you going to do tonight, go to the Wine Bar or somethin'?

I almost ran off the road trying not to bust a gut laughing. The truth was, I was staying at the birthday party with her and hadn't been to the Wine Bar in a couple of months.

The things that come out of kids mouths!

Silver lining:
1. My four year old is using the powers of deduction - pretty good at four!
2. I've reminded myself that I haven't had a ladies night out in awhile - I'll have to call the girls.