OMG, what a cluster fuck!!! People tell me that I grilled out a time or two. I don't recall doing that. People tell me all of the food was good. I don't remember that either. People tell me that the weather was shitty most of the weekend. Really? I don't remember that. People tell me that I attended two different parties on opposite sides of town. And that I made it home under my own power. Don't ever tell someone my age that sort of thing!!! Y'know why? It scares us completely out of our orthopedic jock straps!!! And yes, there is such a thing as an orthopedic jock strap. I should know, I have ones in all of the appropriate rainbow hued colors. Y'know why? For more than four and a half decades I have pretty much treated that part of my body as a amusement park ride and it's starting to show some wear and tear. The paint is pealing, the upholstery is shredded, the safety latch doesn't lock anymore and if I leave it out in the sun for too long it starts to smell funny. Kind of like a mix of cotton candy, corn dogs, puke and Jo-Jo the Monkey Boy. Who, as I recall, used to be able to fling poo with amazing accuracy. Why people actually paid fifty-cents to go into that tent still puzzles me... Hell, my nether regions are as out of warranty as a '59 Edsel and a little "lift and separate" never hurt anyone!!! We apparently attended a cook out with our downstairs neighbors last night. Again, nary a memory. I woke up this morning and the last thing I could recall was LAST Thursday!!! Then I saw myself in the mirror. OMG!!! I have several large bruises, a sunburn and some lacerations under my right arm that have a striking resemblance to something I would have suffered had I been in an altercation with a large jungle cat of some sort. Again, not a clue. I guess I still know how to have a good time...
Our downstairs neighbor returned my baked bean pot this afternoon and told me that they were the best she has ever had. I made baked beans??? I don't remember that. Hell, I don't even remember being at that party!!! Let alone eating. Or being able to make it up the stairs to our apartment. Sea Squirt has filled me in on a few key details and all is becoming somewhat "clearer". Last night it seems that I was quite enamored with the Jello-shots. VERY enamored it would seem. What can I say, they are a gelatinous concoction that helps me hang on. What was not apparent to me last night was that the aforementioned treats had been made with EverClear!!! Sea Squirt says I was feeling no pain, which could easily explain the injuries I discovered this morning. Who the bloody fuck makes Jello-shots with EverClear??? Let alone lets someone older than his mother knock back an ice cube tray full of them??? What the bloody hell do I look like, your prom date??? Trust me, you don't have to get me liquored up to make me easy!!! I'm perfectly happy to do that stone cold sober!!!
Oh god, I'm on YouTube right now, I just know it...
Tuesday, May 31, 2011
Tuesday, May 24, 2011
You Don't Have To Be Crazy To Live In 'sconsin But It Wouldn't Do You Any Harm Either...
AH, 'sconsin. We're not just a state, we're a state of mind. A pretty unbalanced one too from what I can see. We do some pretty strange shit here. Most of it just for entertainment value but some of it for reasons I cannot for the life of me figure out.
First off, this weekend is Brat Fest. Madison plays host to the largest Brat Fest in the WORLD!!! This is a serious "event" that started out years ago in the parking lot of a local grocery store that served them drive-thru style and that now takes over the entirety of Willow Island. Four different band stages, a small amusement park, WAY too many inflatable bouncy tent thingies and the worlds largest (i.e. drivable) charcoal-fired bbq grill. It's a specially designed full size tanker trailer hooked up to huge semi truck. Only in 'sconsin... The beer tent is about the size of basketball court (this is 'sconsin after all) and the wine tent is about the size of two tennis courts (this is Madison after all and we love showing the world how cultured and refined we are. As we swill our 6oz, $7 Fume Blanc from a plastic cup). This weekend we will try to break last years all time sales record. Can you say just shy of 210,000 brats in 3 and a half days???
Then there is the EAA Convention. That's the Experimental Aircraft Association up in Oshkosh. I don't know about you but I just don't like the sound of "aircraft" and "experimental" used in the same sentence. That is form of lunacy that deserves it's own Darwin Awards show. People fly their planes into this thing from all over the world. For one week Wittman Field officially becomes the busiest airport on the face of the planet traffic wise. Imagine combining the total traffic of Atlanta Hartsfield, Chicago O'Hare and Houston Intercontinental. Now imagine it all coming and going out of an airport that was designed to serve a city of 70,000!!! This thing is entertaining even if you don't go. Why? Wisconsin lapses into a betting pool frenzy that week. Why? Because since this thing started back in the early 1970's there hasn't been a single year without a fatality or two. Hell yes, we bet on stuff like that!!! What day, single engine, double engine, lawn mower engine (it's happened!!!), propeller driven, jet driven, mid-air collision, pilot error or mechanical failure (wrong kind of glue???). Hell, with a spread like that I'll even put a couple of bucks down on it!!!
All of our ancestors are from places like Germany, Poland, Bavaria, Slovakia, Bohemia or from some hellish place in Scandahoovia so we're from pretty hardy (if not somewhat inbred) stock. And how do we honor our past? We do stupid shit like make dandelion wine and smoke fish!!! OK, I can kind of understand the dandelion wine thing. Since it's impossible to kill the damn things why not figure out some way of at least getting a good buzz off of them. But smoking fish??? I still can't figure out how people manage to keep them lit. What must their ashtrays look like???
During our "Second Season", winter, we tend to split into two camps. One is sort of whimsical and the other is just plain nuts. Winter here brings two time honored traditions: as soon as Lake Monona freezes over, out of nowhere a half-size replica of the right arm (complete with torch) of the Statue of Liberty appears about 300 feet off shore and the anglers hit the ice with a vengeance. Hundreds of fishing shanties pop up on the ice, holes are drilled and the lines are dropped. Keep in mind they are fishing on a lake that is so polluted that they can't even eat their catch. This is fun to you guys??? How bad are your marriages that this is an attractive alternative??? We do however all share one common bond. Friday Night Fish Fry!!! It is not a tradition as much as it is an addiction. I once drove thru a blizzard that was so bad it was white out conditions just to get some beer battered lake perch at the local VFW. You know what I found when I finally got there? An HOUR wait!!! HARDY stock, what can I say?
The State Fair... Oh god... Under the state constitution all citizens attending the fair are required to "dress down" as much as humanly possible. This is where 'sconsinites excel. If you are female and weigh a minimum of three hundred pounds it's a tube top and hot pants. If you are male and a minimum of 300 pounds it's cut-off bibbed overalls, cowboy boots and shirtless. The more tatooes you have the skimpier you dress because you are wildly proud of how badly you have managed to mutilate your body. WAY, WAY, WAY too much tie-dye freely walking around. With a flowered head band and a fresh cream puff in each hand we proudly wander (and clog) the Midway. And yes, one of those pine tree shaped car air fresheners do make a perfect necklace. It's like a David Lynch movie where the wardrobe department was blind. I once saw a woman there in a two-piece bathing suit and flip-flops. And the top and bottom didn't even match. My god, the show animals over in the Livestock Hall are better groomed!!!
I love 'sconsin. I wouldn't live anywhere else. Well, maybe Mars... I fit right in here. But I think that's only because I spent extended periods of time locked in a closet as a child. AH, yes, my formative years. I knew they would pay off eventually...
First off, this weekend is Brat Fest. Madison plays host to the largest Brat Fest in the WORLD!!! This is a serious "event" that started out years ago in the parking lot of a local grocery store that served them drive-thru style and that now takes over the entirety of Willow Island. Four different band stages, a small amusement park, WAY too many inflatable bouncy tent thingies and the worlds largest (i.e. drivable) charcoal-fired bbq grill. It's a specially designed full size tanker trailer hooked up to huge semi truck. Only in 'sconsin... The beer tent is about the size of basketball court (this is 'sconsin after all) and the wine tent is about the size of two tennis courts (this is Madison after all and we love showing the world how cultured and refined we are. As we swill our 6oz, $7 Fume Blanc from a plastic cup). This weekend we will try to break last years all time sales record. Can you say just shy of 210,000 brats in 3 and a half days???
Then there is the EAA Convention. That's the Experimental Aircraft Association up in Oshkosh. I don't know about you but I just don't like the sound of "aircraft" and "experimental" used in the same sentence. That is form of lunacy that deserves it's own Darwin Awards show. People fly their planes into this thing from all over the world. For one week Wittman Field officially becomes the busiest airport on the face of the planet traffic wise. Imagine combining the total traffic of Atlanta Hartsfield, Chicago O'Hare and Houston Intercontinental. Now imagine it all coming and going out of an airport that was designed to serve a city of 70,000!!! This thing is entertaining even if you don't go. Why? Wisconsin lapses into a betting pool frenzy that week. Why? Because since this thing started back in the early 1970's there hasn't been a single year without a fatality or two. Hell yes, we bet on stuff like that!!! What day, single engine, double engine, lawn mower engine (it's happened!!!), propeller driven, jet driven, mid-air collision, pilot error or mechanical failure (wrong kind of glue???). Hell, with a spread like that I'll even put a couple of bucks down on it!!!
All of our ancestors are from places like Germany, Poland, Bavaria, Slovakia, Bohemia or from some hellish place in Scandahoovia so we're from pretty hardy (if not somewhat inbred) stock. And how do we honor our past? We do stupid shit like make dandelion wine and smoke fish!!! OK, I can kind of understand the dandelion wine thing. Since it's impossible to kill the damn things why not figure out some way of at least getting a good buzz off of them. But smoking fish??? I still can't figure out how people manage to keep them lit. What must their ashtrays look like???
During our "Second Season", winter, we tend to split into two camps. One is sort of whimsical and the other is just plain nuts. Winter here brings two time honored traditions: as soon as Lake Monona freezes over, out of nowhere a half-size replica of the right arm (complete with torch) of the Statue of Liberty appears about 300 feet off shore and the anglers hit the ice with a vengeance. Hundreds of fishing shanties pop up on the ice, holes are drilled and the lines are dropped. Keep in mind they are fishing on a lake that is so polluted that they can't even eat their catch. This is fun to you guys??? How bad are your marriages that this is an attractive alternative??? We do however all share one common bond. Friday Night Fish Fry!!! It is not a tradition as much as it is an addiction. I once drove thru a blizzard that was so bad it was white out conditions just to get some beer battered lake perch at the local VFW. You know what I found when I finally got there? An HOUR wait!!! HARDY stock, what can I say?
The State Fair... Oh god... Under the state constitution all citizens attending the fair are required to "dress down" as much as humanly possible. This is where 'sconsinites excel. If you are female and weigh a minimum of three hundred pounds it's a tube top and hot pants. If you are male and a minimum of 300 pounds it's cut-off bibbed overalls, cowboy boots and shirtless. The more tatooes you have the skimpier you dress because you are wildly proud of how badly you have managed to mutilate your body. WAY, WAY, WAY too much tie-dye freely walking around. With a flowered head band and a fresh cream puff in each hand we proudly wander (and clog) the Midway. And yes, one of those pine tree shaped car air fresheners do make a perfect necklace. It's like a David Lynch movie where the wardrobe department was blind. I once saw a woman there in a two-piece bathing suit and flip-flops. And the top and bottom didn't even match. My god, the show animals over in the Livestock Hall are better groomed!!!
I love 'sconsin. I wouldn't live anywhere else. Well, maybe Mars... I fit right in here. But I think that's only because I spent extended periods of time locked in a closet as a child. AH, yes, my formative years. I knew they would pay off eventually...
Saturday, May 21, 2011
These are few of my favorite things...
Colors. Oh yeah, I love those things. Especially the ones I can actually see. OK, I admit it, I'm color blind. BIG time! But back in the mid 1960's I saw some amazing colors. I knew what to take to "enhance" the experience back then...
Today, I still see colors. Just not the same ones the rest of you do. Color blindness... I'm still not sure if it's a curse or a gift. I flunk every test for that they give me. I must have the weirdest rods and cones in my eyes imaginable. I can't see any of those numbers to save my life. My color deficiencies spread across just about all the diagnosed ranges known to medical science. No, I do not see in black and white. I see colors. Just different ones than you do. Mine are much more fun. And confusing at times.
To me, a pumpkin, a tomato and a red delicious apple look pretty much the same color. To me, my car is the same color as a pumpkin. Yes, I know it is "Flame Red" but then again, I think jack-o-lanterns are the same color. Yeah, this is why I dress sort of strangely. Limes and avocados are the same color to me. Until the limes start to rot, then I notice a difference. In the fall, I see color changes weeks before you do. Especially if I am driving around in polarized sunglasses. I see yellows that you can't. I see the sumac go red a month before you do. And what I see in the maples would amaze you. I see the birch go yellow long before you can and it just freaking "pops" to me. Ask anyone who has driven around with me in September... It's kind of like my own private version of "I see dead people"...
On my first in person encounter with Sea Squirt (remember, we "met" on Match.com, I told him to meet me at my favorite Mexican restaurant and look for the guy wearing the loudest Hawaiian shirt imaginable) he found me immediately. Two days later, he was over at my apartment, shocked at the, well, shall we say, garishness of the colors. He bravely asked what my favorite color was and I told him I didn't have "A" favorite color. I had lots of them. Then I told him to go look in my closet. He did. And then he fainted. Six feet of polo's and second hand Hawaiian shirts in colors not found in nature was just too much for him to comprehend. Once I had finally revived him I confessed. Yes, I was color blind. And my favorite colors were actually things like limon, lemon, hibiscus, bougainvillea, mango, papaya, guava, liver (YES, liver. But only if it's raw), palm frond , fall and aubergine. Especially aubergine. OMG, what a color!!! A couple of weeks later and he was with me down in Mexico and he understood what I was talking about. I showed him all of them. Especially aubergine. Up here it's eggplant, in the tropics it takes on a whole different thing. Down there it is the most brilliant pallet of shades imaginable. My heart races, my sinus's break and I pee on my flip flops!!! Trust me, this color in it's myriad of delicasies just stops me in my tracks. Usually in the middle of an intersection... Which is usually not a good thing... I was once almost run over by a bus full of Japanese touristas while standing in the middle of Calle Olas Altas and admiring the color of someones front door. What can I say? It popped and I stopped.
As a photographer color blindness has saved me a small fortune on film over the years. I didn't use Kodak, which is heavy on reds and yellows. I used Fuji, which is heavy on blues and greens. The difference between those to films to me is amazing. Kodak looked sort of "blurred" to me while Fuji was razor sharp and damned near glowed in my eyes.
Wanna have more fun with me than a monkey house full of barrels? Give me a dryer load of argyle socks and ask me to match them. Call me in about a year. I may have matched a pair or two by then. STOP LAUGHING YOU BITCHES!!! That would be cruel and unusual and I would be forced to report you to The Hague for crimes against insanity!!!
Today, I still see colors. Just not the same ones the rest of you do. Color blindness... I'm still not sure if it's a curse or a gift. I flunk every test for that they give me. I must have the weirdest rods and cones in my eyes imaginable. I can't see any of those numbers to save my life. My color deficiencies spread across just about all the diagnosed ranges known to medical science. No, I do not see in black and white. I see colors. Just different ones than you do. Mine are much more fun. And confusing at times.
To me, a pumpkin, a tomato and a red delicious apple look pretty much the same color. To me, my car is the same color as a pumpkin. Yes, I know it is "Flame Red" but then again, I think jack-o-lanterns are the same color. Yeah, this is why I dress sort of strangely. Limes and avocados are the same color to me. Until the limes start to rot, then I notice a difference. In the fall, I see color changes weeks before you do. Especially if I am driving around in polarized sunglasses. I see yellows that you can't. I see the sumac go red a month before you do. And what I see in the maples would amaze you. I see the birch go yellow long before you can and it just freaking "pops" to me. Ask anyone who has driven around with me in September... It's kind of like my own private version of "I see dead people"...
On my first in person encounter with Sea Squirt (remember, we "met" on Match.com, I told him to meet me at my favorite Mexican restaurant and look for the guy wearing the loudest Hawaiian shirt imaginable) he found me immediately. Two days later, he was over at my apartment, shocked at the, well, shall we say, garishness of the colors. He bravely asked what my favorite color was and I told him I didn't have "A" favorite color. I had lots of them. Then I told him to go look in my closet. He did. And then he fainted. Six feet of polo's and second hand Hawaiian shirts in colors not found in nature was just too much for him to comprehend. Once I had finally revived him I confessed. Yes, I was color blind. And my favorite colors were actually things like limon, lemon, hibiscus, bougainvillea, mango, papaya, guava, liver (YES, liver. But only if it's raw), palm frond , fall and aubergine. Especially aubergine. OMG, what a color!!! A couple of weeks later and he was with me down in Mexico and he understood what I was talking about. I showed him all of them. Especially aubergine. Up here it's eggplant, in the tropics it takes on a whole different thing. Down there it is the most brilliant pallet of shades imaginable. My heart races, my sinus's break and I pee on my flip flops!!! Trust me, this color in it's myriad of delicasies just stops me in my tracks. Usually in the middle of an intersection... Which is usually not a good thing... I was once almost run over by a bus full of Japanese touristas while standing in the middle of Calle Olas Altas and admiring the color of someones front door. What can I say? It popped and I stopped.
As a photographer color blindness has saved me a small fortune on film over the years. I didn't use Kodak, which is heavy on reds and yellows. I used Fuji, which is heavy on blues and greens. The difference between those to films to me is amazing. Kodak looked sort of "blurred" to me while Fuji was razor sharp and damned near glowed in my eyes.
Wanna have more fun with me than a monkey house full of barrels? Give me a dryer load of argyle socks and ask me to match them. Call me in about a year. I may have matched a pair or two by then. STOP LAUGHING YOU BITCHES!!! That would be cruel and unusual and I would be forced to report you to The Hague for crimes against insanity!!!
Thursday, May 19, 2011
The Mexicanos At Octopus Car Wash LOVE Me!!!
OK, it's the middle of May, the snow is actually finally gone, it's rained a few times and the last of the road salt has FINALLY washed away so I decided it was safe to get the car washed and detailed. Off to Octopus!!!
Until a couple of years ago all of the employees there were Huber Law losers. Now they are all from Mexico. Which, BTW, with me is no problem because they do a better job in my opinion. And I tip them better.
My car is a bit strange. I have turned it into an amusement park ride. It's "accessorized" shall we say. It's Bucky Badger red and just screams gayer than springtime!!! I have a Katrina Day of The Dead figurine hanging off of the mirror, a Virgin de Guadalupe air freshener hanging off of the lighter, an official Chiva's logo covering the center of my tachometer, a Chiva's key ring hanging off the radio knob, a Chiva's thingey-bob on my key ring, a foldable Chiva's windshield cover in the backseat and a license plate frame from a Dodge dealership in West Covina, CA. Oh, yeah, and the stereo is always set to 1480 AM, "La Movida", the local Spanish language station. What can I say, in my heart I am a gringa from south of the border...
So, I get out of the car and start to walk inside to pay. I hadn't even made it to the door when I hear the guy who is starting to vacuum my car yell "Hey, Senor! Chiva's ROCK!!!" as he gave two-thumbs up. I gave him a dollar. Then as I watched the next guy drive my car off of the tracks after it was washed I notice he is rocking out to "La Movida" and crossing himself to my air freshener. OK, I'm inside the glassed in waiting area watching this and when he opens the car door I can tell he has the stereo CRANKED. Then, the two women who are drying off the outside of my car start dancing along with the music. I giggled. When they finally get done with my car they all start looking around for the 19 year old Mexican kid who must own this car. And they're confused as hell because all they see is a 57 year old gringo in flip-flops wearing a baseball cap that says "Bucerias" on it. As I walked out to get my car the three of them go all deer in headlights on me. Then I get the "¿Senor? ¿Chiva's?" "Si!" I reply, "CHIVA'S!!!" Thumbs up, all around!!! I gave them $5 and hit el carretara as they say. I am now an honorary Mexican!!! From now on you may all call me "Rosalinda"...
Until a couple of years ago all of the employees there were Huber Law losers. Now they are all from Mexico. Which, BTW, with me is no problem because they do a better job in my opinion. And I tip them better.
My car is a bit strange. I have turned it into an amusement park ride. It's "accessorized" shall we say. It's Bucky Badger red and just screams gayer than springtime!!! I have a Katrina Day of The Dead figurine hanging off of the mirror, a Virgin de Guadalupe air freshener hanging off of the lighter, an official Chiva's logo covering the center of my tachometer, a Chiva's key ring hanging off the radio knob, a Chiva's thingey-bob on my key ring, a foldable Chiva's windshield cover in the backseat and a license plate frame from a Dodge dealership in West Covina, CA. Oh, yeah, and the stereo is always set to 1480 AM, "La Movida", the local Spanish language station. What can I say, in my heart I am a gringa from south of the border...
So, I get out of the car and start to walk inside to pay. I hadn't even made it to the door when I hear the guy who is starting to vacuum my car yell "Hey, Senor! Chiva's ROCK!!!" as he gave two-thumbs up. I gave him a dollar. Then as I watched the next guy drive my car off of the tracks after it was washed I notice he is rocking out to "La Movida" and crossing himself to my air freshener. OK, I'm inside the glassed in waiting area watching this and when he opens the car door I can tell he has the stereo CRANKED. Then, the two women who are drying off the outside of my car start dancing along with the music. I giggled. When they finally get done with my car they all start looking around for the 19 year old Mexican kid who must own this car. And they're confused as hell because all they see is a 57 year old gringo in flip-flops wearing a baseball cap that says "Bucerias" on it. As I walked out to get my car the three of them go all deer in headlights on me. Then I get the "¿Senor? ¿Chiva's?" "Si!" I reply, "CHIVA'S!!!" Thumbs up, all around!!! I gave them $5 and hit el carretara as they say. I am now an honorary Mexican!!! From now on you may all call me "Rosalinda"...
Wednesday, May 18, 2011
Send This Cow Over The Moon!!!
Have you heard about this??? One one hand I am angry as hell at this woman and on the other hand I jumping up and down and doing my little "happy dance" at what happened to her. She deserves every form of punishment they can convict her of.
Long story, real short. On an Amtrak train from Oakland, CA to Seattle, WA a woman gets on board and goes to the "Quiet Car". That's the one reserved for people who don't like kids, loud talking and last but not least, cell phones. You actually pay extra for that car. What does this stupid cow do??? She pulls out her cell phone the second the train leaves from Oakland and proceeds to have a 16 HOUR phone conversation!!! LOUDLY!!! Yes, I said 16 HOURS!!! WTF kind of battery has she got in that phone??? A Sears Die-Hard truck battery??? 16 HOURS??? There is NO way in hell I would have put up with that for that long. Y'all know me... Fifteen minutes worth of cell phones in Woodman's and I get somewhat strange but after an hour in the Quite Car with this bitch I would have snatched that bloody cell phone out of her hands, beat her with it, thrown her off a moving train and used her phone to call 911. About an hour later... Finally, after repeated complaints from everyone else in the Quiet Car the train made an unscheduled stop in Salem, OR where she was forcibly escorted off of the train by police. She apparently got a "bit" hostile and ended up being handcuffed. THANK YOU!!! Sanity apparently does occasionally prevail!!! I hope she rots in hell and is sentenced to an eternity of community service for the deaf!!! Can you hear me now... Good, I hope not!!!
Long story, real short. On an Amtrak train from Oakland, CA to Seattle, WA a woman gets on board and goes to the "Quiet Car". That's the one reserved for people who don't like kids, loud talking and last but not least, cell phones. You actually pay extra for that car. What does this stupid cow do??? She pulls out her cell phone the second the train leaves from Oakland and proceeds to have a 16 HOUR phone conversation!!! LOUDLY!!! Yes, I said 16 HOURS!!! WTF kind of battery has she got in that phone??? A Sears Die-Hard truck battery??? 16 HOURS??? There is NO way in hell I would have put up with that for that long. Y'all know me... Fifteen minutes worth of cell phones in Woodman's and I get somewhat strange but after an hour in the Quite Car with this bitch I would have snatched that bloody cell phone out of her hands, beat her with it, thrown her off a moving train and used her phone to call 911. About an hour later... Finally, after repeated complaints from everyone else in the Quiet Car the train made an unscheduled stop in Salem, OR where she was forcibly escorted off of the train by police. She apparently got a "bit" hostile and ended up being handcuffed. THANK YOU!!! Sanity apparently does occasionally prevail!!! I hope she rots in hell and is sentenced to an eternity of community service for the deaf!!! Can you hear me now... Good, I hope not!!!
Monday, May 16, 2011
One Wingey-Dingies. Two Wingey-Dingies.
As you all know by now, I LOVE to cook. The weirder, stranger and hotter the better. You know me, the more it hurts the better. I just crave stuff that makes me eat a whole stick of butter just to get my mouth back under control. I think I may have managed to surpass myself. Holy shit, I have blisters on my tongue!!!
Last weekend Sea Squirt and I went to an annual backyard "Drive-In Theater Party" that some very good friends of ours throw twice a year. It's a hoot. I love theme parties. Unfortunately the weather did not cooperate as planned. It was cold, rainy, windy, damp and shitty. The movie was canceled but the dinner was wonderful. All of us were in parkas, gloves, scarves, eye patches and hats. Under the carport. We brought an unprecedentedly popular batch of Sangria Blanca (two and half gallons) and a pan the size of a manhole cover full of "Buffaloed Parrot Wings" (FYI: the canceled movie was "Pirates of the Caribbean"). Those parrot wings just flew off of the shelf. So did the Sangria. I was pleased. And somewhat perplexed...
I managed to snag two wings to bring home for later enjoyment. I ate one today. HFS!!! Those puppies are HOT AS HELL!!! No wonder the Sangria got finished off. It was the closest fire hydrant available apparently...
I LOVE buffalo wings. Perhaps too much. I made a special concoction this time. A combination of an off the shelf dry mix and some liquid stuff I buy from Louisiana Bayou inbreds who are known for catchin' 'gators. FMTT!!! This batch made habeneros look like Tic-Tacs!!! I'm still hurting. Pleased but HURTING!!! The ER staff has reassured me that my my tongue will more than likely be working again in about two weeks. Perhaps a bit longer if I am stupid enough to eat the remaining wing. And you just KNOW that I'm gonna eat it!!!
The recipe is available upon request. How brave are you??? C'mon, show me your stones!!!
Last weekend Sea Squirt and I went to an annual backyard "Drive-In Theater Party" that some very good friends of ours throw twice a year. It's a hoot. I love theme parties. Unfortunately the weather did not cooperate as planned. It was cold, rainy, windy, damp and shitty. The movie was canceled but the dinner was wonderful. All of us were in parkas, gloves, scarves, eye patches and hats. Under the carport. We brought an unprecedentedly popular batch of Sangria Blanca (two and half gallons) and a pan the size of a manhole cover full of "Buffaloed Parrot Wings" (FYI: the canceled movie was "Pirates of the Caribbean"). Those parrot wings just flew off of the shelf. So did the Sangria. I was pleased. And somewhat perplexed...
I managed to snag two wings to bring home for later enjoyment. I ate one today. HFS!!! Those puppies are HOT AS HELL!!! No wonder the Sangria got finished off. It was the closest fire hydrant available apparently...
I LOVE buffalo wings. Perhaps too much. I made a special concoction this time. A combination of an off the shelf dry mix and some liquid stuff I buy from Louisiana Bayou inbreds who are known for catchin' 'gators. FMTT!!! This batch made habeneros look like Tic-Tacs!!! I'm still hurting. Pleased but HURTING!!! The ER staff has reassured me that my my tongue will more than likely be working again in about two weeks. Perhaps a bit longer if I am stupid enough to eat the remaining wing. And you just KNOW that I'm gonna eat it!!!
The recipe is available upon request. How brave are you??? C'mon, show me your stones!!!
Nothing Says Mexico Quite Like Dynamite!!!
Ah yes, dynamite. Mexico. They're like hand and glove. Peanut butter and jelly. Babies and handguns. A burro and a sick sloth...
Dynamite is a tradition in Mexico. Hell, it's a requirement. When you turn 18 you get a voter ID card and a stick of dynamite. Girls carry a bouquet of dynamite on their Quinceanara's in Mexico. It's used as candles on your cumpleanos cake (those are candles you REALLY do want blow out. Completely!!!). Wanna fix a pot hole? You need some dynamite. Wanna put up a building? You need LOTS of dynamite!!! Wanna celebrate a National Holiday? Even MORE dynamite!!! The locals call those things "firecrackers". In Mexico I've dodged more concrete and re-bar shrapnel than I can shake my good hip at!!! Hell, I once saw one of those "firecrackers" take out a pastelaria and half of t-shirt shop!!!
I've seen hillsides come down (unintentionally. OK, I'll stop laughing now...), the main highway buried for more that half a kilometer under rubble, a resort blown half way to the Moon, streets shot to Mars and a swimming pool come out onto Calle Amapas like a tsunami. Imagine giving ME a stick of dynamite. Yeah, not a pretty sight... It's even worse down there.
Vallarta has one "main", "fast" way to get from the south side up to the airport. It's called "The Tunnel.". I use the term loosely. VERY loosely. Suddenly, six-lanes goes down to two-lanes, no exhaust fans, lots of carbon monoxide, dirty diapers and dead people on bicycles. For about half a mile. As you approach it you close your vents, roll up your windows and hope to god you can hold your breath long enough to get through it. You exit covered in soot and grime. AH, such is the tropics... I love the Third World!!! Well, things are about to change. Perhaps not for the better...
Construction on a new, additional tunnel has begun. Running through the same mountain comprised of bedrock. Just a handfull
of meters away. Oh, no. As of the start of construction, May 13 (and YES, that would be FRIDAY THE 13th!!! What were they thinking???) the decision was still up in the air as to use dynamite or a large boring machine like they used on the Chunnel from England to France. WTBF??? No good can come of this... I see a slum, a cemetary, some auto repair places, dozens of street taco stands and concrete blocks in total mayhem. And then the rainy season will start and all will wash down into the Bay. I used to love Rosalinda's chicken taco stand up there. What a shame she's going to go rushing 1500 feet downward in a landslide of muck, paper napkins, designer kitchens, gay bars and styrofoam plates into the Ocean of Peace. Missing most of her limbs, her tire rim and all of her grandchildren as well... Oh, well, shit happens I guess...
I see frigate birds dropping from the sky from the concussions, pelicans made deaf, deep sea fish made blind and innumerable OXXO's blown to hell in a bolsa!!! What is left of Rafael's Radiator Repair will surely be found out beyond Punta Mita, somewhere between Sayulita and San Pancho. Perhaps as far northwest as the the Las Isla Tres Marias. Been there. Done that. Saw the prison... Got some phone numbers... Had some cocktails... Got a tatoo...
Dynamite is a tradition in Mexico. Hell, it's a requirement. When you turn 18 you get a voter ID card and a stick of dynamite. Girls carry a bouquet of dynamite on their Quinceanara's in Mexico. It's used as candles on your cumpleanos cake (those are candles you REALLY do want blow out. Completely!!!). Wanna fix a pot hole? You need some dynamite. Wanna put up a building? You need LOTS of dynamite!!! Wanna celebrate a National Holiday? Even MORE dynamite!!! The locals call those things "firecrackers". In Mexico I've dodged more concrete and re-bar shrapnel than I can shake my good hip at!!! Hell, I once saw one of those "firecrackers" take out a pastelaria and half of t-shirt shop!!!
I've seen hillsides come down (unintentionally. OK, I'll stop laughing now...), the main highway buried for more that half a kilometer under rubble, a resort blown half way to the Moon, streets shot to Mars and a swimming pool come out onto Calle Amapas like a tsunami. Imagine giving ME a stick of dynamite. Yeah, not a pretty sight... It's even worse down there.
Vallarta has one "main", "fast" way to get from the south side up to the airport. It's called "The Tunnel.". I use the term loosely. VERY loosely. Suddenly, six-lanes goes down to two-lanes, no exhaust fans, lots of carbon monoxide, dirty diapers and dead people on bicycles. For about half a mile. As you approach it you close your vents, roll up your windows and hope to god you can hold your breath long enough to get through it. You exit covered in soot and grime. AH, such is the tropics... I love the Third World!!! Well, things are about to change. Perhaps not for the better...
Construction on a new, additional tunnel has begun. Running through the same mountain comprised of bedrock. Just a handfull
of meters away. Oh, no. As of the start of construction, May 13 (and YES, that would be FRIDAY THE 13th!!! What were they thinking???) the decision was still up in the air as to use dynamite or a large boring machine like they used on the Chunnel from England to France. WTBF??? No good can come of this... I see a slum, a cemetary, some auto repair places, dozens of street taco stands and concrete blocks in total mayhem. And then the rainy season will start and all will wash down into the Bay. I used to love Rosalinda's chicken taco stand up there. What a shame she's going to go rushing 1500 feet downward in a landslide of muck, paper napkins, designer kitchens, gay bars and styrofoam plates into the Ocean of Peace. Missing most of her limbs, her tire rim and all of her grandchildren as well... Oh, well, shit happens I guess...
I see frigate birds dropping from the sky from the concussions, pelicans made deaf, deep sea fish made blind and innumerable OXXO's blown to hell in a bolsa!!! What is left of Rafael's Radiator Repair will surely be found out beyond Punta Mita, somewhere between Sayulita and San Pancho. Perhaps as far northwest as the the Las Isla Tres Marias. Been there. Done that. Saw the prison... Got some phone numbers... Had some cocktails... Got a tatoo...
Friday, May 13, 2011
An Illegal Smile.
Ah yes, an illegal smile. I remember those. Hell, I still occasionally have one. They're fun. Hot dog bun. My sister's a nun.
For those of you who haven't caught on yet you're either WAY too young or you were SO not someone I would have hung out with in college. I kind of remember college. Not really. I had an illegal smile going on for over 4 years. I think I have a degree. Maybe. Who knows... Lord, that was a fun four years. Or five. Or six. I can't remember... Hot dog bun...
In my youth I think I spent more on rolling papers than I did on weed. Yes, that's how cheap weed was back then!!! As I recall it was $12 an OUNCE for domestic shit and $15 to $20 an ounce for the "exotic" stuff like Acapulco Gold, Panama Red and Columbian Gold that you only smoked at concerts. But for that kind of bump in price you had better be immobile for a couple of days. I usually was... Yes, it was a simpler time. And much more inexpensive. Lord, I have smoked some righteous shit in my time!!! I actually remember (not really) some stuff called Alaskan ThunderFuck. Lord, that was a damned GOOD pound!!! I think it lasted me almost a month. I think... Who knows...
Remember acrylic bongs? I do. Kind of. Hot dog bun... I'm sure I was there. Maybe... Who knows...
Anybody out there remember "Honey Slides"? I don't so I know I must have had some. Lots of them. Maybe too many of them... The recipe is available upon request. I think. Maybe.
Brownies??? Oh yeah. Been there, done that. Pancakes and waffles were good too. You would be amazed at what I can do with cookies!!! Fuck the Australians, I do peanut butter proud!!! If you had given me a canister of oatmeal and a pound of raisins I could make you hear colors in about 45 minutes!!! 30 minutes if I had the good stuff.
I've actually managed to attain an illegal smile on MULTIPLE airplanes, AmTrak, the London Underground, a cruise ship, several taxis (both foreign and domestic), the sewers of Paris, the catacombs of Rome, the Great Wall of China, on the back of a camel in Egypt, WAY too many canals in Amsterdam, a bordello in Berlin (don't even ask!!!), the Kentucky Derby, the Indy 500, while straddling several international borders and a couple of times in ladies restrooms. NOW I know what you carry around in those damned purses!!! My most memorable experience? In the balcony of the Sydney Opera House. Gorgeous building and some REALLY good "product". Nice concert too... I think.
At my age I have learned how to turn a palette of things into "utensils" shall we say. BIC pens, pop cans, aluminum foil, paper towel rolls, toilet paper rolls, salt shakers... Hell, once I turned a Trabant into a bong. Which totally pleased the 8 people in the trunk I was smuggling to freedom. Lord, I got stories!!!
Don't even ask me about the 30,000 pounds of smashed bananas!!! It involved a semi-truck, a swimming pool, a blind intersection, Bianca Jagger, a formally two-story house and a couple of drunken Italians. Somethings are just better kept private...
For those of you who haven't caught on yet you're either WAY too young or you were SO not someone I would have hung out with in college. I kind of remember college. Not really. I had an illegal smile going on for over 4 years. I think I have a degree. Maybe. Who knows... Lord, that was a fun four years. Or five. Or six. I can't remember... Hot dog bun...
In my youth I think I spent more on rolling papers than I did on weed. Yes, that's how cheap weed was back then!!! As I recall it was $12 an OUNCE for domestic shit and $15 to $20 an ounce for the "exotic" stuff like Acapulco Gold, Panama Red and Columbian Gold that you only smoked at concerts. But for that kind of bump in price you had better be immobile for a couple of days. I usually was... Yes, it was a simpler time. And much more inexpensive. Lord, I have smoked some righteous shit in my time!!! I actually remember (not really) some stuff called Alaskan ThunderFuck. Lord, that was a damned GOOD pound!!! I think it lasted me almost a month. I think... Who knows...
Remember acrylic bongs? I do. Kind of. Hot dog bun... I'm sure I was there. Maybe... Who knows...
Anybody out there remember "Honey Slides"? I don't so I know I must have had some. Lots of them. Maybe too many of them... The recipe is available upon request. I think. Maybe.
Brownies??? Oh yeah. Been there, done that. Pancakes and waffles were good too. You would be amazed at what I can do with cookies!!! Fuck the Australians, I do peanut butter proud!!! If you had given me a canister of oatmeal and a pound of raisins I could make you hear colors in about 45 minutes!!! 30 minutes if I had the good stuff.
I've actually managed to attain an illegal smile on MULTIPLE airplanes, AmTrak, the London Underground, a cruise ship, several taxis (both foreign and domestic), the sewers of Paris, the catacombs of Rome, the Great Wall of China, on the back of a camel in Egypt, WAY too many canals in Amsterdam, a bordello in Berlin (don't even ask!!!), the Kentucky Derby, the Indy 500, while straddling several international borders and a couple of times in ladies restrooms. NOW I know what you carry around in those damned purses!!! My most memorable experience? In the balcony of the Sydney Opera House. Gorgeous building and some REALLY good "product". Nice concert too... I think.
At my age I have learned how to turn a palette of things into "utensils" shall we say. BIC pens, pop cans, aluminum foil, paper towel rolls, toilet paper rolls, salt shakers... Hell, once I turned a Trabant into a bong. Which totally pleased the 8 people in the trunk I was smuggling to freedom. Lord, I got stories!!!
Don't even ask me about the 30,000 pounds of smashed bananas!!! It involved a semi-truck, a swimming pool, a blind intersection, Bianca Jagger, a formally two-story house and a couple of drunken Italians. Somethings are just better kept private...
Monday, May 9, 2011
Vegemite???
OK, so you all know by now that I just love food oddities. Especially the ones that I find when I'm traveling. RE: "The Four Divine Goddesses Ascending Into Heaven". I swear, there hasn't been a foreign country I've been to that I haven't ended up something strange in my mouth. Oh, just stop laughing!!! You know what I mean.
Braised sea slug in Korea (quite good actually, it's ALL about the sauce. Well, the sauces really), something sort of green in Costa Rica (and possibly still moving), the cricket tacos in Mexico (the crickets, by the way, were imported all the way from Oaxaca. They're better down there I guess), the eel pie in England (I don't recommend it... They leave the heads on!!!). But I have to say, Australia was the strangest experience I have ever had. Bar none. All five months of it.
A little background. I went to Australia for a three week vacation and ended up staying 5 months. I love that place but their dietary habits are sort of weird. OK, not to bad mouth them but when your ancestors were part of a massive prisoner relocation program I guess you'll eat just about anything that gets put in front of you.
Botany Bay "Bugs". They're delicious but when the plate is set in front of you... You freak!!! They're crustaceans that bare a striking resemblance to the unholy lovechild of a lobster and the monster from "Alien". Damn good though, as long as you're blindfolded.
Beef. This took me awhile to figure out. America grain feeds its livestock. The rest of the world does not. End result: it tastes like venison from Hurley that has been eating pine cones all of its life. "Gamey" is just not a fully comprehensive term to describe that experience. FYI: look closely at the beef section of the menu and see if it says "All of our steaks are American-style". Porterhouse, please!!!
Ketchup. Don't even get me started on this one. I'm an a American. I put ketchup ON my ketchup!!! They had never heard of it down there. Even in McDonald's. WTF??? I finally found some small bottles of Heinz in a gourmet section of a very upscale grocery store in Canberra. FREAKING $9.00 a bottle. US$!!! I bought a case of it and spent the rest of my stay traveling with it.
M&M Peanuts. Nope. Not a single bag to be found anywhere. Y'know why? They weren't marketed down there. How could Nestle's not market M&M Peanuts in Australia??? YOU GODLESS BASTARDS!!! I felt betrayed, isolated and culled from the herd!!!
Peanut butter. Again, I'm an a American. I ate acres of this stuff as a child. I still do. I had a REALLY bad craving for a PB&J one day and hit the local grocery store to stock up. Not a single freaking jar of the stuff in the jam and jelly aisle. WTF??? In quite resignation I finally grabbed a friendly looking employee and asked where the peanut butter was. Are you ready for this one??? Over in the Baking Supply Aisle!!! OK. ??? This makes as much sense as putting Incontinence Supplies in the same aisle as Seasonal Specials!!! She could not honestly understand why I would mix peanut butter with jelly, especially on a sandwich. And find it enjoyable. She paled at the prospect. To her the only choice was Vegemite. Yes, Vegemite. The Aussie's eat this shit like it was cocaine apparently. She lured me to give it a try. OK, back over to the jelly and jam aisle. I found a HUGE display of it. It looked innocent enough. At first. It's brown. Turd brown to be exact. With about the same texture and consistency. The smell is odd if not totally repugnant. I couldn't quite place it at first but then I tasted it. FMTT!!! I gagged and blew milk out my ears. And I wasn't even drinking milk at the time. (FYI, I had purchased a small jar and was sampling it back at the hotel at the time. What do I look like? A single wide??? I do not sample in the aisle!!!) Who in their right mind would eat this shit??? Imagine an Olympic sized swimming pool. At 112-degrees. With a railroad car full of yeast in it. Now imagine "harvesting" all of the bubbly goo off of the surface and reducing it down into something about the size of a bar of soap. And putting it into a jar on a grocery store shelf. Now imagine spreading that on your breakfast toast and actually eating it. With a happy smile on your face. FUCK NO!!! Vegemite is some SERIOUSLY NASTY ASS stuff. Get this... the stuff is manufactured by Kraft!!! Yes!!! Kraft!!! No wonder the world hates us!!!
Braised sea slug in Korea (quite good actually, it's ALL about the sauce. Well, the sauces really), something sort of green in Costa Rica (and possibly still moving), the cricket tacos in Mexico (the crickets, by the way, were imported all the way from Oaxaca. They're better down there I guess), the eel pie in England (I don't recommend it... They leave the heads on!!!). But I have to say, Australia was the strangest experience I have ever had. Bar none. All five months of it.
A little background. I went to Australia for a three week vacation and ended up staying 5 months. I love that place but their dietary habits are sort of weird. OK, not to bad mouth them but when your ancestors were part of a massive prisoner relocation program I guess you'll eat just about anything that gets put in front of you.
Botany Bay "Bugs". They're delicious but when the plate is set in front of you... You freak!!! They're crustaceans that bare a striking resemblance to the unholy lovechild of a lobster and the monster from "Alien". Damn good though, as long as you're blindfolded.
Beef. This took me awhile to figure out. America grain feeds its livestock. The rest of the world does not. End result: it tastes like venison from Hurley that has been eating pine cones all of its life. "Gamey" is just not a fully comprehensive term to describe that experience. FYI: look closely at the beef section of the menu and see if it says "All of our steaks are American-style". Porterhouse, please!!!
Ketchup. Don't even get me started on this one. I'm an a American. I put ketchup ON my ketchup!!! They had never heard of it down there. Even in McDonald's. WTF??? I finally found some small bottles of Heinz in a gourmet section of a very upscale grocery store in Canberra. FREAKING $9.00 a bottle. US$!!! I bought a case of it and spent the rest of my stay traveling with it.
M&M Peanuts. Nope. Not a single bag to be found anywhere. Y'know why? They weren't marketed down there. How could Nestle's not market M&M Peanuts in Australia??? YOU GODLESS BASTARDS!!! I felt betrayed, isolated and culled from the herd!!!
Peanut butter. Again, I'm an a American. I ate acres of this stuff as a child. I still do. I had a REALLY bad craving for a PB&J one day and hit the local grocery store to stock up. Not a single freaking jar of the stuff in the jam and jelly aisle. WTF??? In quite resignation I finally grabbed a friendly looking employee and asked where the peanut butter was. Are you ready for this one??? Over in the Baking Supply Aisle!!! OK. ??? This makes as much sense as putting Incontinence Supplies in the same aisle as Seasonal Specials!!! She could not honestly understand why I would mix peanut butter with jelly, especially on a sandwich. And find it enjoyable. She paled at the prospect. To her the only choice was Vegemite. Yes, Vegemite. The Aussie's eat this shit like it was cocaine apparently. She lured me to give it a try. OK, back over to the jelly and jam aisle. I found a HUGE display of it. It looked innocent enough. At first. It's brown. Turd brown to be exact. With about the same texture and consistency. The smell is odd if not totally repugnant. I couldn't quite place it at first but then I tasted it. FMTT!!! I gagged and blew milk out my ears. And I wasn't even drinking milk at the time. (FYI, I had purchased a small jar and was sampling it back at the hotel at the time. What do I look like? A single wide??? I do not sample in the aisle!!!) Who in their right mind would eat this shit??? Imagine an Olympic sized swimming pool. At 112-degrees. With a railroad car full of yeast in it. Now imagine "harvesting" all of the bubbly goo off of the surface and reducing it down into something about the size of a bar of soap. And putting it into a jar on a grocery store shelf. Now imagine spreading that on your breakfast toast and actually eating it. With a happy smile on your face. FUCK NO!!! Vegemite is some SERIOUSLY NASTY ASS stuff. Get this... the stuff is manufactured by Kraft!!! Yes!!! Kraft!!! No wonder the world hates us!!!
Thursday, May 5, 2011
Gay Divorce For Dummies.
I swear to god, I'm gonna write this book!!!
First and foremost, I am a vehement opponent of gay marriage. There, I've said it. You don't like that??? BITE ME!!! I have a legion of reasons I am against it. Wanna hear them???
1. 52% of straight marriages end in divorce within 5 years. That is NOT a
model I want to emulate.
2. There is nothing that legalized same sex marriage can give me that I
can't do without a lawyer and a couple of legal documents.
3. Legalized gay marriage can only lead to one thing: legalized gay
divorce. In a court room. With lawyers. Not a pretty sight... Think
about it.
I am now happily involved with hubby #4. All is well and oddly enough this is the longest relationship I have ever been in. Coming up on 7 years. I have yet to threaten him with a gun or try to set him on fire. Again, all is well. This may be due to the fact that he is allergic to cats. I don't like cats. Hubbies 1,2 and 3 loved cats. More on this in a bit...
What is mine is mine, what is yours is yours. Just pack it all up in old liquor boxes and get it the hell out of here. THEN we can fight over what we actually managed to acquire together. Which by the way, can be a total pain in the ass. Hubby #3 and I actually got into a knock down drag out brawl over pot holders and a potato masher. Total value: less than $5. What a cluster fuck that was. The only thing that settled it was a good friend coming over, separating us, bitch slapping us both quite soundly and then claiming that the aforementioned items were now hers for all eternity. This was her first experience with a gay breakup. She was appalled but she handled it brilliantly. To this day she still likes to show me the potato masher and giggle. I love her!!!
OK, now back to cats. I don't hate cats, I just don't like them. I'm a dog person. Always have been. To me a cat is just one rung under Satan. Why I hook up with cat queens is beyond my comprehension but I have a history of doing that that goes back to the signing of the Magna Carta. Don't ask me why. It must be a sickness. Or a genetic fault. Or the fact that all of my hubbies have had green eyes. Hell, I'd sell secrets to Russia for green eyes. But I digress...
Cat poop. Yes, I said cat poop. I think a litter box is totally gross. But it does come in handy when the relationship finally breaks down. I don't need lawyers. I don't need a court date. I don't need negotiations. I just need cat poop. After all of the liquor boxes have been packed with stuff, either his or mine, I simply walk up to him, look straight into his green eyes and announce with glee, "I break with thee, I break with thee, I break with thee" and then I throw cat poop (his cats poop) on his shoe. Short, sweet and very to the point. Done deal. Works perfectly for me. Your sorry ass is SO out of my life!!!
I am not taking that exit again. EVER!!! Much as I am want to. What can I say, no cats are in my perimeter presently... Sea Squirt is apparently safe for the time being...
First and foremost, I am a vehement opponent of gay marriage. There, I've said it. You don't like that??? BITE ME!!! I have a legion of reasons I am against it. Wanna hear them???
1. 52% of straight marriages end in divorce within 5 years. That is NOT a
model I want to emulate.
2. There is nothing that legalized same sex marriage can give me that I
can't do without a lawyer and a couple of legal documents.
3. Legalized gay marriage can only lead to one thing: legalized gay
divorce. In a court room. With lawyers. Not a pretty sight... Think
about it.
I am now happily involved with hubby #4. All is well and oddly enough this is the longest relationship I have ever been in. Coming up on 7 years. I have yet to threaten him with a gun or try to set him on fire. Again, all is well. This may be due to the fact that he is allergic to cats. I don't like cats. Hubbies 1,2 and 3 loved cats. More on this in a bit...
What is mine is mine, what is yours is yours. Just pack it all up in old liquor boxes and get it the hell out of here. THEN we can fight over what we actually managed to acquire together. Which by the way, can be a total pain in the ass. Hubby #3 and I actually got into a knock down drag out brawl over pot holders and a potato masher. Total value: less than $5. What a cluster fuck that was. The only thing that settled it was a good friend coming over, separating us, bitch slapping us both quite soundly and then claiming that the aforementioned items were now hers for all eternity. This was her first experience with a gay breakup. She was appalled but she handled it brilliantly. To this day she still likes to show me the potato masher and giggle. I love her!!!
OK, now back to cats. I don't hate cats, I just don't like them. I'm a dog person. Always have been. To me a cat is just one rung under Satan. Why I hook up with cat queens is beyond my comprehension but I have a history of doing that that goes back to the signing of the Magna Carta. Don't ask me why. It must be a sickness. Or a genetic fault. Or the fact that all of my hubbies have had green eyes. Hell, I'd sell secrets to Russia for green eyes. But I digress...
Cat poop. Yes, I said cat poop. I think a litter box is totally gross. But it does come in handy when the relationship finally breaks down. I don't need lawyers. I don't need a court date. I don't need negotiations. I just need cat poop. After all of the liquor boxes have been packed with stuff, either his or mine, I simply walk up to him, look straight into his green eyes and announce with glee, "I break with thee, I break with thee, I break with thee" and then I throw cat poop (his cats poop) on his shoe. Short, sweet and very to the point. Done deal. Works perfectly for me. Your sorry ass is SO out of my life!!!
I am not taking that exit again. EVER!!! Much as I am want to. What can I say, no cats are in my perimeter presently... Sea Squirt is apparently safe for the time being...
Wednesday, May 4, 2011
The Great Madison Butter Fire!!!
I swear, this kind of shit can only happen in Madison. Had Sea Squirt not mentioned this to me today I would have had no idea this actually took place. I thought he was yanking my crank at first. Then I did a Google search. Yep, the Great Madison Butter Fire is real and the pictures I found of it are just plain bloody frightening. Think napalm!!!
Twenty years ago today a fire broke out in a cold storage warehouse owned by Oscar Meyer. The building was the size of a football field. Inside was 20 MILLION pounds of butter and an equal amount of lard, cheese and hotdogs. The place was an accident just waiting to happen. And it did. BIG TIME. To the tune of over $100,000,000!!! And that's in 1991 dollars.
This turned out to be the biggest and most expensive fire in Madison's history. This was the deep fryer fire from hell by all accounts. Every fire crew in Madison got involved. And we all know that nothing works better on a grease fire than water... It took them two full days to get the fire under "control" and another full week to finally get it put out. Several fire trucks were totaled due to grease saturation and all of the fire men's uniforms needed to be replaced because they were soaked in butter. That cost of uniform replacement alone was over $500,000!!!
One fire man described it as tsunamis of melted butter. Another fire man was actually trapped up to his neck in a hole full of melted butter and hot dogs. This clogged the storm drains with melted cheese and lard. Apparently when the hot dogs started exploding they came shooting out of the collapsed roof like tracer bullets and flew more than a block away. Residents in the area described it as smelling like a tire fire. Streets for two blocks around were impassable due to the "oil slick" and needed to be pressure steam washed when it was all over. For several months afterwards the entire neighborhood reeked of rancid butter and spoiled meat. There was so much grease coating everything that people's lawns and trees started dieing. So much butter and lard went down the storm drains it actually caused a grease slick on the Yahara River and Lake Monona!!! One report I read quoted the Fire Chief as estimating that they pumped enough water on this fire over the course of 9 days to actually fill the Yahara River several times over!!! The clean up cost on this fire was staggering.
I can't make this stuff up. Really. Yes indeed ladies and germs, Madison truly is 72 square miles surrounded by reality...
Twenty years ago today a fire broke out in a cold storage warehouse owned by Oscar Meyer. The building was the size of a football field. Inside was 20 MILLION pounds of butter and an equal amount of lard, cheese and hotdogs. The place was an accident just waiting to happen. And it did. BIG TIME. To the tune of over $100,000,000!!! And that's in 1991 dollars.
This turned out to be the biggest and most expensive fire in Madison's history. This was the deep fryer fire from hell by all accounts. Every fire crew in Madison got involved. And we all know that nothing works better on a grease fire than water... It took them two full days to get the fire under "control" and another full week to finally get it put out. Several fire trucks were totaled due to grease saturation and all of the fire men's uniforms needed to be replaced because they were soaked in butter. That cost of uniform replacement alone was over $500,000!!!
One fire man described it as tsunamis of melted butter. Another fire man was actually trapped up to his neck in a hole full of melted butter and hot dogs. This clogged the storm drains with melted cheese and lard. Apparently when the hot dogs started exploding they came shooting out of the collapsed roof like tracer bullets and flew more than a block away. Residents in the area described it as smelling like a tire fire. Streets for two blocks around were impassable due to the "oil slick" and needed to be pressure steam washed when it was all over. For several months afterwards the entire neighborhood reeked of rancid butter and spoiled meat. There was so much grease coating everything that people's lawns and trees started dieing. So much butter and lard went down the storm drains it actually caused a grease slick on the Yahara River and Lake Monona!!! One report I read quoted the Fire Chief as estimating that they pumped enough water on this fire over the course of 9 days to actually fill the Yahara River several times over!!! The clean up cost on this fire was staggering.
I can't make this stuff up. Really. Yes indeed ladies and germs, Madison truly is 72 square miles surrounded by reality...
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