What She Said: February 2010

Tuesday, February 23, 2010

It'd be a Naked Day Without a Wolf Tee and Some Zubaz Pants

I am still quietly chuckling to myself (for at least ten minutes now) because, let's face it, laughing really loud when you're by yourself just seems crazy. My friend, Danielle, posted this link on her Facebook (thank you, Danielle), and my life would be incomplete if I didn't share it with you.

Here's the link: http://www.amazon.com/Mountain-Three-Wolf-Short-Sleeve/dp/B002HJ377A/ref=pd_sbs_a_1

In case you're too lazy to be clicking today, here's the skinny. It's an Amazon.com ad for a Napoleon Dynamite-esque t-shirt featuring three wolves howling at the moon. Sort of funny. As you scroll down, you might notice other customers who have viewed this item have also viewed "Zubaz Pants" and milk. ??? A little funnier. But please, I beg you, take time to read the reviews. I have copied and pasted the first one below for your reading (and laughing) pleasure, but they are all well worth your time. In fact, I think I just may buy the wolf t-shirt. Maybe I'll get the Zubaz pants to go with. It's sure to be a cult classic.

11,533 of 11,633 people found the following review helpful:

Dual Function Design, ..November 10, 2008..

This item has wolves on it which makes it intrinsically sweet and worth 5 stars by itself, but once I tried it on, that's when the magic happened. After checking to ensure that the shirt would properly cover my girth, I walked from my trailer to Wal-mart with the shirt on and was immediately approached by women. The women knew from the wolves on my shirt that I, like a wolf, am a mysterious loner who knows how to 'howl at the moon' from time to time (if you catch my drift!). The women that approached me wanted to know if I would be their boyfriend and/or give them money for something they called mehth. I told them no, because they didn't have enough teeth, and frankly a man with a wolf-shirt shouldn't settle for the first thing that comes to him.

I arrived at Wal-mart, mounted my courtesy-scooter (walking is such a drag!) sitting side saddle so that my wolves would show. While I was browsing tube socks, I could hear aroused asthmatic breathing behind me. I turned around to see a slightly sweaty dream in sweatpants and flip-flops standing there. She told me she liked the wolves on my shirt, I told her I wanted to howl at her moon. She offered me a swig from her mountain dew, and I drove my scooter, with her shuffling along side out the door and into the rest of our lives. Thank you wolf shirt.

Pros: Fits my girthy frame, has wolves on it, attracts women
Cons: Only 3 wolves (could probably use a few more on the 'guns'), cannot see wolves when sitting with arms crossed, wolves would have been better if they glowed in the dark.

***I'm moving some of my blogs over from Myspace (since it's a ghost town these days). Some of them (like this one) may be a little out of date.

Fried Maca-what?

My friends, I have reached an all-time low, both geographically (you can't go much further south in the Continental US) and also in things culinary. I saw a recipe for (drum roll, please) deep fried macaroni, and I thought, "Hmmm, that looks interesting." If I had stopped there, I wouldn't be questionning myself so much now, but I went on to think, "I should try that." So there I stood at my stove yesterday, frying boiled elbow macaroni. The whole time, I'm thinking, "What am I doing?" But I did it anyway. And it took everything that is right and good about pasta and turned into something depraved and back-woodsy. By the time it was about half done, I had realized it was a very bad idea, but it was too late to turn back. I had to see this thing through to the end. So eventually, I pulled the golden brown, sad looking little 'ronis from their greasy pit of despair and laid them on a paper towel to cool. I salted them down in good southern fashion, and then I hollered (yes, hollered, because that's all you can do at a time like that), "KIDS! COME TRY THESE WEIRD MACARONI THINGS!" They came, they tried, they were unimpressed. They were really crunchy, a lot like corn nuts, the official stinky snack of rude vehicle passengers everywhere. They tasted ok, but I will never fry macaroni again. I felt like I should have gone ahead and lived up to every stereotype known and put on a Waylon Jennings t-shirt, some ratty sweats pulled up to my knees, pulled my hair up in a banana clip and started yelling, "KIDS! COME GET Y'ALL'S FRAH'D MACARONI! HURRY UP NOW, IT'S GONNA GIT COLD! AH SAID MOVE YER BUTTS! Y'ALL AIN'T GOT ALL NAHT! WRASSLIN STARTS IN A HALF HOUR, AND MAMA AIN'T GONNA MISS KURT ANGLE FAHTIN' THAT SAMOA JOE!"

*My apologies if I've offended any of my friends or readers who live in the south, enjoy professional wrestling or are fried macaroni afficionados. I have nothing but love for you all.

***I'm moving some of my blogs over from Myspace (since it's a ghost town these days). Some of them may be a little out of date.

Dear Weather

Dear Weather:

I live in Florida, and I must know, why is there ice? My plants are all dead, and the oranges that are so delicious are little orange-cicles now. Last night, I dreamed I was eating icicles. I'm sure this is a direct, subconscious response to your arctic insanity. Please tell me your meteorological psychosis will be short-lived. Is it global warming? I completely understand if that's got you upset. I know I drive an SUV, but I don't drive much, so please don't take it out on me. Thank you for listening.

***I'm moving some of my blogs over from Myspace (since it's a ghost town these days). Some of them (like this one) may be a little out of date.

So many words all saying nothing

I am crying. Tears of joy? Nope. Tears of sadness? Nah. Tears of onions. Every time I slice onions, I'm reminded of just how much I prefer those little yellow ones from Peru. "They're so good, you'll only cry when they're gone." I just made a marinade for Root Beer Chicken. Sounds weird to me, too, but I'm intrigued. If it's good, I'll post the recipe. If it's terrible, I'll post the warning. If it kills us, you know what happened, so go ahead and sue the producers of "Follow That Food."

I was driving by a cemetery yesterday when I noticed a picnic table and a chili roaster set up right next to it. Is that really the best place for a chili roast? Maybe in New Mexico that wouldn't have seemed so out of place.

Somebody ought to let the Wal-Mart employees know that double-bagging things like bread and boxes of macaroni and cheese is overkill. It's ok, guys. They're not going to suddenly get very heavy and start ripping through the bags.

No doubt about it, children are wise and often very well-spoken. My 4-year-old daughter said to me, "Sometimes you burn yourself and get head trauma. That makes a real bad case of the ouchies, and there's nothing you can do about it." It's true.

Be-dee-ya! Be-dee-ya! Be-dee-ya! That's all, folks!

*Update: Do NOT try the root beer chicken. Yuck!