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Wednesday, February 29, 2012

The Great Pumpkin Bar Fiasco

LIES, LIES, LIES!  What do you do when an adult authority figure in the house (in this case, the mother) that is supposed to be teaching their children not to lie insists on perpetuating a never-ending lie herself.  Let me back up.  A couple of Christmases ago, the kids begged their mother to make pumpkin bars.  You know the kind with gobs of white cream cheese frosting slathered on top.  For weeks, we were met with empty promises.  The begging continued until she finally made them.  At this point, however, the kitchen looked like the dessert bar at Golden Corral due to it now being a week before Christmas.

It didn't look anything like this however when we were first promised the pumpkin bars.  Nevertheless, she made them and we ate them and ate them.  After a few days, there was a tiny sliver of a bar left that had gotten hard from not being covered and had to be thrown away.

Now to her version of events.  She falsely claims that no one ate the pumpkin bars so she wasn't making them anymore.  The kids and I know the truth that there was a tiny sliver left and that if she hadn't waited until the house was full of sweets to make them, there wouldn't have even been that left.  So, if this story ever comes up in your presence, nod and wink at me because you know the truth.  Well, we evidently all whined enough about her fabricated story to where she relented and we were met with a plate of pumpkin bars on the counter one night.

The kids all ate one and then had big plans on having them for breakfast, too.  Morning came, the alarms sounded and the kids all came running for the kitchen to claim the big pumpkin bar prize.

And were met with . . . 

DENIED!  That cruel woman had taken them ALL to work for a food day.  I am not exaggerating when I say that the kids looked like whipped pups.
We pictured her sitting in her cubicle throwing away her half uneaten pumpkin bar and laughing like Vincent Price. 

There was no doubt she was getting even for us leaving a fragment of a piece of a pumpkin bar from before.  So, all of you readers need to take up the cause and let Andi know of her unjust, unfounded ways and let's all join together in a unified front to demand that she make her children (and husband) pumpkin bars.  After all, we don't want this to escalate into something bigger.  We all remember how the great Prussian Pumpkin Bar War of 1741 turned out, now don't we?  


Friday, February 24, 2012

And New From Swanson's. . .

Tired of the same old, same old?  Swanson's has come up with a solution.  Try our new. . .

I mean, sure, our other broths are delicious.  Nothing tastes better when you are riding out a snotty nose than our chicken broth.  It's "cluckin" good.

And who could deny the delicious flavor of cow pieces and parts swept into a bin at our slaughterhouse and run through a Jack Lalanne juicer that are found in our beef broth.

But sometimes, you just want something different.  So just like these little guys did when we macheted them in the rain forest, your taste buds will be screaming for our new Swanson's Sloth Broth®.  That's right, this broth is made from 100% pure sloth.  Okay, you got us.  It has just the tiniest bit of dung beetle but you can't even really taste it.  Trust us.

They say "you are what you eat" but don't believe those tired old cliches.  If that were true, these sloths would look like bugs, leaves, and occasional human porta-potty feces.  Swanson's® is not responsible for human feces stomach contents found in broth.  You can sit back and smile knowing that you are feeding your little heathen healthily as he asks for more snout and hair.  After all, the sloth's internal symbiotic bacteria mostly boils out when cooking so you know it's good for you.

So don't be surprised when you overhear junior bragging to his friends "My mom makes the best sloth on the block."  And coming soon from Swanson's®, it's new Swanson's Carp Broth®.

Swanson's Carp Broth®
"You can barely taste the decaying seaweed and sticks, so that means it's good."

Tuesday, February 21, 2012

And You Thought Only Somalia had Pirates (Disney Trip Post #3)

I promised you all some hidden Mickeys.  We didn't spot a lot but here are a few.

Railing at Old Key West Resort.

Edge of shelf in room at Port Orleans Riverside Resort.

In pattern of comforter on bed at Port Orleans Riverside Resort.

Cal and I did have a bit more excitement on this trip other than the lost boy.  On Saturday night as a last hurrah for the trip after visiting Universal Islands of Adventure during the day, Cal and I went back to the Magic Kingdom.  We went to get on It's a Small World and no we didn't drink the water.  I know what happens.  Just ask Lisa Simpson.

What did happen is that a Disney star stole our boat.  Cal and I were ready to board and they hurried her in the exit and into our boat.  I thought I knew who it was because as you blog followers know and of great annoyance to my squaw, I am addicted to the Disney channel.  My suspicions were confirmed when a boat full of cheerleaders rolled in and one of them stood up and screamed "WE LOVE YOU DEBBY RYAN!"

Sorry, it's such a shitty picture.  I would have had a great one as she jacked our boat (I would expect this on The Pirate's of the Caribbean where that seems to be the theme but not with all of these adorable little wooden dolls looking on) because she got right in our row and was 3 feet from us.  However, right as I snapped that picture, she turned her head and was being really standoffish to the crowd.  I could understand this before the cat was out of the bag but at this point, it would have been generous to just give we non-Disney royalty who don't get brought in through the exit to our own private boat a friendly pose and chance for a picture.  Still don't know who she is?

It's Bailey from Suite Life on Deck.

Or as of the present, it's "Jessie" from Jessie.  If you still don't know her, you will just have to trust me that she is Disney gold.

You know what the only thing Mikah asked me about the celebrity encounter.  "Did she have her bangs?"  Huh?  I think this falls into that whole Men are From Mars, Women are From Venus thing.  She even looked at my grainy photo to check when I couldn't offer up an answer and let me know that she does.  What a relief.  Anyways, I try not to hold it against celebrities too much for not being the friendliest as I'm sure the attention gets old.  It does not make it any less disappointing for we fans though.  Maybe, I should have played my celebrity card to get my own boat.  After all, I was in that movie with Matt Damon.  Remember?  Hello, unpleasant Disney employee (I know Grumpy was a Disney character but I think they play that card a little too often down there).  Does this help?

Now point me to my damn private boat!

On another Disney star note, this is just something I (and probably only me) think is cool.  They have the chicken coop that Miley painted for the boy in The Hannah Montana Movie just sitting there in a line maze at Disney Hollywood Studios park.


I will post some of our Disney pictures on a later blog.

Saturday, February 18, 2012

Thanks Big Mike, If I Can Get The Financing, I'll Offer You a Beer! (Disney Trip Post #2)

It never ceases to amaze me when I am down there, the number of foreign speaking people.  I have never felt more like a visitor in my own country than this trip.  We had a great time in your beautiful country of Florida.  Thanks for having us.  Unfortunately, my foreigner stories does not end here.  As you may know, we got part of this trip from winning the contest from Big Mike of This Is It Furniture in Champaign and Danville.

He is a Hell of a guy that put us up in a Hell of a nice huge place at Disney so SHOP BIG MIKE!  It was almost as big as our old house.  This was our first stay at Disney resorts and with that constantly running free shuttle to the parks, you can't beat it.  I parked our SUV rental on Sunday and didn't touch it again until Thursday.  It even makes sitting through that damn Disney promotional video that seems to be on every t.v. channel 24 hours a day almost bearable.  

Here is our living room at Disney's Old Key West Resort.

And full kitchen.

And our private King bedroom.

Well, we added a few more days onto the trip than what we won so on the Case dollar, we moved to a MUCH cheaper resort.  It was still a Disney property and very passable called Disney's Port Orleans Resort.  Here is our room there.

Other than Mikah being a little crabby one day because Lukah wound up completely sideways on the bed with her, it was fine.  And after a little adventure you will read about in a minute, I walked in to a sight that made me love my hillbilly bride even more.

If your wife has ever used a hotel sink as a beer cooler, YOU MIGHT BE A REDNECK.  I am very sad to report that we had to leave a few of the little guys behind when we left.  On a side note and a true occurrence from a dining establishment at Epcot, "If you ever walk up to your table and hear 'Get off his head' from the table next to you, YOU MIGHT BE EATING NEXT TO A REDNECK.  Now back to the story.  This complex was massive and as soon as we dropped the bags in the room, I grabbed Cal to go explore.  We got no more than 2 steps outside of our room and we heard a small child wailing.  At a run, we approached a cute little boy about 5 years old hysterically crying.  I inquired, "Are you lost?" and was met with "sdfseffs thtgnfrh nmythjhtmm asdfd sdfgsgff."  Well, that is what it sounded like to me anyways.  Great, I had a lost kid with no way to communicate to him to calm him down.  I couldn't even figure out what language he was speaking despite several valiant efforts on my part I must say.  I knew that if I could get him to the lobby, surely someone there could figure out his language, ask him his name, and then look up his parent's room number.  Sounds simple enough except remember me saying that we had just gotten to this huge resort.  I could not find that lobby to save my life.  We walked and walked.  Meanwhile this kid is babbling in tongues and stopping every 10 feet to scream "Awww. Mi papa" which by the way became the catch phrase for the rest of the trip.  With this screaming kid in tow, I was just waiting to be tackled as a kidnapper.  I finally came across a resort cart person and stopped him.  He was not American either, but thank God spoke it.  He figured out the kid was speaking Spanish.  Oops.  Sorry Mr. Glasson (High School Spanish teacher), my one semester of Spanish did not enable me to pick out one familiar word to figure that out.  Now, we had directions to the lobby and the knowledge that he was speaking Spanish.  Well, that changes everything.  I had a semester of Spanish 25 years ago so surely I can just get him to tell me his room number.  I started asking "nombre?" to which he kept saying something that sounded like "sharlukah".  If any of you are fluent, please tell me what the Hell this means as it has been driving Cal and I crazy to know.  I tried a few other phrases but for all I know I told him that I wanted to make out with his goat.  So much for my attempts.  Then, I caught myself even doing the old television cliche of speaking English but really slowly in a Spanish accent like somehow that would help him understand me.  "Looobbbby, Zey vill hailp."  We got a few hundred feet from the lobby and a man came running out with arms open wide and in a truly magical Disney moment, I pointed to him and said "Papa?".  The cute little fella ran to him and all I got was a quick wave from "papa".  Excuse me jackass, you could at least come shake my hand and buy me  a $32-6 pack.  Think I'm lying.
That's actually what it cost at that resort.  1 Budweiser bottle was $6.  Son of a bitch, was the Tower of Terror right?  Did I get off of that service elevator into another dimension where beer is brewed with solid gold extract?  F**K for $32, someone better put on one of those giant Mickey Mouse gloves and come rub my hemorrhoid while I drink it.

Now that I think about it, I didn't ask for any credentials.  I could have just handed that little cutey over to a serial killer.  Nah, I'm sure I would have read about that by now. 

Thursday, February 16, 2012

Goddammit, NOW who cut one?! (Disney Trip Post #1)

Well, we are back from Disney and I declared in the hotel room a couple of nights ago "I am sick of smelling other people's farts."  Don't get me wrong, there is an art to it in not getting caught.  To whoever ripped the one in the gift shop by the $9 keychains to the sphincter specialist whose standing ass was at the same height as our sitting face that ruined our bus shuttle sucking a little bit of magic away from our Magic Kingdom trip, I tip my hat.  The true master of the trip, though, was the genius that fouled up the beginning room of the Haunted Mansion.  You all know the room where you are crammed in like crayons and then the ceiling "stretches" to reveal the funny paintings.  Yes, someone let one fly in there.  It's brilliant.  It is very loudly narrated so no one can hear you fart and the audience is completely captive (remember there are no doors or windows) so everyone gets a chance to enjoy it.  Hell, you can't even take a step away from the smell as it is wall to wall in there.  I am declaring myself the winner for inadvertantly finding the best fart scenario.  I tried to sneak one out on the escalator to our car in the universal parking garage.  I didn't think much about it and thought I had stealthed it pretty good until I heard Andi dry heaving.  Then it hit me.  What a perfect plan.  You get on first, let one go, and then every loved one that has perhaps pissed you off on the trip has to travel face first through your stink cloud.  Again, where can they go but right through it. It just so happens that person was the woman who promised to take me for better or for worse.  I'm assuming this falls into the "for worse" category.   That wasn't the only "stink" from the trip, though.  Other than a shot glass (I collect them from everywhere we go), the only other souvenir I bought was a mouse pad from one of those touristy shops run by an Arab.   Keep in mind that I am not racist, but more intrigued than anything.  Mousepad you say?  You know those things that nobody uses anymore hence why they were on a rack marked down to 50% off.  These caught my eye because they were hard plastic instead of the usual floppy foam ones.  I like the hard ones (insert your gay joke here you juveniles) because they are better for working on the carpet or armrest of the couch with the laptop.  So when I got home, I excitedly peeled off the yellowed plastic and was thrilled to try it out as it even had as a bonus one of those extra pads to support your wrist.  You will read why the pad is missing later.  See.

I gave it a dry run and when I pulled my arm back, I caught a strong aroma of what I assume was smoked in a hookah as Punjab assembled my mouse pad.  The odor was intense.  Andi happened to buy one, too.  We opened hers and the same damn thing met our senses.  Maybe they were packed in a crate with another, uh "shipment", if you catch my drift.  All, I know is that it has been through 2 loads of laundry and as Andi said, "Now it just smells like wet marijuana."

Man, that Abdul has the best shit.  Now if you'll excuse me, I'm gonna go munch on a bowl of Chex Mix and wash it all down with a tall, cool glass of more Chex Mix.

I just thank God that a drug dog didn't sniff out my mouse pad in the airport because frankly "I swear I inadvertantly bought my marijuana Mickey Mouse mousepad from an Arab" just sounds made up.  That wasn't my only encounter with Indians/Arabs (not trying to be too racist).  We stopped at a restroom at the Magic Kingdom (we found that we required a potty stop every 2 rides.  It sucks getting old).  Outside of the bathroom entrance was an Indian family, shoes off and lined up in a row, kneeling in some ritual.

To each his own and you have to admire their conviction, but if I can't get through a day at an amusement park without having to face Mecca while kneeling in dried up spit and used gum, then I ain't goin'.  I mean I wondered if something happened that they had to have an emergency ceremony. . . and by the bathroom of all places.  Did one of them shit out a whole ear of corn or accidentally eat a pork rind or something?  Maybe in a moment of weakness (perhaps after smelling a mousepad), one of them chowed a bite of burger and they had to wait by the crapper 'til they got it back so they could bless the cow.

Friday, February 3, 2012

Disney Imagineers

I have often read and seen on shows that Disney's "Imagineers" put hidden Mickey Mouses EVERYWHERE so you should always be looking out for them at the parks or in your resort.  Well, Sunday we leave for our Disney trip from the contest we won and mentioned in a previous blog.  Today, I opened a brand new bag of dog food and was pouring it in Vegas's bowl and look what came out.

There were three pieces stuck together.  Now those "Imagineers" are just getting plain creepy.  How the Hell did they know I was going to buy that particular bag of dog food.  What's next?  Am, I gonna take a shit and look in the bowl (yes, I always check the proceedings and you all do, too.  Admit it) and see this?

If I do, f**k it.  I ain't goin'.  Then again, if people get thousands of dollars for a grilled cheese with a Virgin Mary on it, I may just fish that shit out of there and "plop" it on ebay.  People will buy ANYTHING Disney, right?

Some people think they see these images everywhere.  I would imagine that if the good Lord (the guy responsible for my afterlife for all of eternity) is going to make an appearance, he would have the scruples and class to not do it on a dog's ass.  Then again, I would like to think that my Jesus has a sense of humor as well.

I will try to find some of these hidden Mickeys while we are there and get some pics of them for you all for a future post.  

See you when we get back!