Monthly Archives: June 2012

When the Chips are Down

  June 18, 2012 - 10:28 pm | ,
4 Comments

My very considerate boyfriend Chuck is always thinking of my nutritional needs when he goes to the grocery store, which he sometimes does all by himself, even though by most other indications he is a boy.

He’s kind of awesome that way.

I think I might keep him.

His most recent outing was no different, and on that particular occasion he decided that my needs included a fabulous new style of potato chips that supposedly taste like a “Classic BLT” sandwich.

Lays Classic BLTNow, knowing my boyfriend, who is both a nonpracticing Jew and a an enemy of nearly all vegetables, it was definitely the B that interested him, not the L or the T.

Because this boy loves him some bacon.

And on that we agree.

So we were both quite eager to tear into this new delicacy, and were thus quite disappointed when we discovered that it tasted like none of the aforementioned initials whatsoever, but rather like a perfectly ordinary sour cream and onion.

Sigh.

Didn’t anyone try the blessed things before they sold them?

Apparently not.

At this point, not being satisfied to cut our losses and move on with our lives, which would almost certainly have been the better part of wisdom, Chuck and I made an even more grievous error in judgment, electing to flip the bag over and READ THE FREAKIN’ INGREDIENTS.

We wanted to know just exactly which particular elements made the chips taste nothing like the items they were supposed to taste like, and it didn’t take long to figure it out.

See below, if you think you have the stomach for it.

Natural Type Flavor

Wait, whaaaat???

Natural bacon type flavor?  Natural lettuce type flavor???

What in the sweet Sam Hill does that even MEAN????

I do not want to know.  I just really do not.

And sadly, that is not even the scariest part.

No, I’m afraid it isn’t.

The scariest part is that I am still eating them. In fact, I am thinking of going to get some right now.

Because I like sour cream and onion, dagnabit.  And we PAID for them, besides.

Good thing I believe in the afterlife, right?  I’ll let you know how it is when I get there, which will probably be in fairly short order at this rate.  I’m quite sure it will be lovely.

I just hope they have real bacon.

Let Sleeping Horses Lie

  June 11, 2012 - 4:26 pm | , ,
12 Comments

Well, it’s Monday again.

Funny how that happens about this time every week, isn’t it?

I had a pretty good weekend, although it didn’t start off all that auspiciously.  My adorable boyfriend, who I may or may not have mentioned is completely off his nut in certain aspects of his personal interests, decided to get up at the crack of crazy on Saturday morning to go out and look at birds, even though we have two perfectly good ones living inside the house already.

In CAGES.

Just super convenient.

But nooo, he wants to see different birds (which at least he does not bring back home with him, thank the Lord), so he came in to say farewell to me a good three or four hours before any sensible person is even thinking blearily about how nice a cup of coffee might be, and where the heck are my glasses, and who is going to cook my eggs if my boyfriend’s not here to do it?

And that’s when everything went wrong.

Because as soon as he came into the room, I woke up with a horrible cramp in my left calf, otherwise known as a Charley Horse, even though it bears no earthly relation to either one, that I am aware of.

Calf

No, not THAT kind of calf. Not horsey enough.

Now, in all of the respected medical journals, the accepted treatment for this unfortunate condition is to leap from bed as if electrocuted and hobble pathetically (and lopsidedly) around the room, screaming “Oh no, no, no, no, oh good God please no,” while grabbing wildly at the affected area and praying for the sweet release of death.

And believe me, I was quite prepared to apply this time-honored remedy (even if I had to go through my boyfriend to do it), when I suddenly realized that I was suffering from a second life-threatening condition, heretofore undiagnosed:

My foot was asleep.

ON THE SAME FREAKIN’ LEG.

This, of course, completely prevented conventional treatment of the Charley Horse, as I would have simply collapsed like a stone to the floor immediately upon standing, and the Charley Horse prevented conventional treatment of the sleeping foot, which is to lie very still and try not to move it too much, because moving it feels even weirder.

You know what I’m talking about.

Thus I was reduced to a weird, twitching, blubbering mess on the side of the bed, with my poor sweet boyfriend offering to give me a piggyback around the room if that would help, anything, anything at all, just please stop making that NOISE, and eventually both conditions resolved themselves, but I was left walking around with what felt like a rock in my calf for a while, and the inescapable feeling that perhaps falling asleep meditating in the horizontal lotus position was not the best idea after all.

Yes, I know.

I never said I wasn’t crazy too.

I think that goes without saying, in fact.

I will note, however, that according to the Wikipedia article, in Sweden a Charley Horse is referred to as lårkaka or “thigh cookie,” which almost makes it sounds delicious, so I’m considering moving there next time it happens.

Thigh Cookie

Mmm, thigh cookie. Who wants to chip in on my move?

I’m sure this will come as a relief to many.

Polly Wants a Collar

  June 5, 2012 - 1:03 pm | ,
10 Comments

Speaking of ridiculously cute bird pictures, which you probably didn’t realize we were, I feel it’s only fair to give equal time to our other pampered psittacine personage, a green-cheeked conure whose official moniker is Cayce, but to whom I fondly refer as Mr. Stupid.

Please don’t worry, he isn’t offended by this.

He is not a bright bird.

I guess that’s kind of the point.

Also, I’m fairly sure he doesn’t speak much English, aside from the all-important phrases “go poop,” “bad bird,” and “come here,” which is the only expression he can actually produce on his own, and which is remarkably amusing when muttered sleepily from a covered cage in the middle of the night.

The bird DOES know how to relax, however.

See below.

Cayce Collar 1

Now isn’t that just priceless?

If you did not go “Awwwwwwwwww” when you saw that, then you are probably not actively conscious, or else you’ve seen “Birdemic: Shock and Terror” one too many times, and just can’t get past the convincing CGI.

I can’t blame you for that.

What actually happens here, though, is that my boyfriend grabs Mr. Stupid and sticks him underneath the bottom of his shirt.  The conure employs the fabric of the shirt (and boyfriend’s manly chest hair) as a kind of ladder, and within seconds, voilà – out he pops, like a bashful teenager tucked into a sleeping bag at a slumber party.

He will remain there for quite some time if you let him, joyfully rubbing his head on that nice warm neck, and occasionally sinking his beak into it tenderly, because he will not be IGNORED, dagnabit.

Ah, love.

It’s a many feathered thing.

Cayce Collar 2

Ode to My New Friend Cricket

  June 4, 2012 - 5:26 pm |
7 Comments

Cricket 1

If nary a canary
Has lit careless on your wrist
You ought to be aware
It is an aviary bliss

To tempt a wary fairy
Is a fairly hairy feat
But you’ll feel very airy
When she answers, “lettuce eat!”

- J.F.

Cricket 2