Sunday, December 31, 2006

A New Year, An Old Rivalry


How to tell if you're driving too fast:

Happy New Year's Eve 2006! Today finds me preparing for the big event tonight--no, no, not the New Year's countdown.... 

....the Bears/Packers game this evening! 
Yes, the final game of the regular NFL season features the Bears/Packers on New Year's Eve night. 

Being a Bears fan by birth and a Packers fan by circumstance, I am feeling conflicted. In fact, today when I ran to Walgreens, I had my Packers sweatshirt on while wearing my Bears coat. Go figure. I'm an insult to the true fans of professional teams. 

I like to think it's because I have the ability to rise above team colors....but, maybe I'm just not made to be a purist. 

We'll watch the game with Master Reiki and Blue Eyes. They'll spend the time eating the wife's crock pot-grape-jelly-and-chili-sauce-appetizer meatballs and I'll be eating chocolate. I have no plans of eating meat in 2007. I assume everyone will be wearing green and gold, as I believe this is a Packer's Party. I will gladly don my Packer gear but I'm not saying aloud for whom I'm cheering.

The Bears-Packer gig is one of the oldest rivalries in the league, so it's always a doozy.  The copious amount of alcohol consumed at the game will add to the athletically-motivated festivities and cheese-filled debauchery. We, party-goers at home, will remain sober, allowing us opportunity to eat more food and actually remember what the hell we did and who won the game

This is a very serious rivalry. I'm already exhausted. God help me if the Packers lose.....
Let me remind you of the wife's passion-addiction-fanatisism for the Pack. She's Cheeseland born and bred, so that means her blood is green (and gold, if she has the flu). Every Packer loss is like a personal tragedy. Every interception is like getting your eyes poked out. 

To illustrate my point: the first time I was with the wife's family for a Packer Game (on TV, mind you), I looked around and everyone was crying.....

Why? Because the new wide receiver had just caught his first touchdown in a Packer's uniform.

I am NOT making this up.
I am silent about my Bear-fan-status when visiting with the wife's family. It's easier that way. I put on some green and gold and go with the flow. I am truly glad to do so and am all good with cheering as the Pack wins another one. But, they know I am from Chicago. They know I am not born with green and gold blood. They know that I still reside south of the cheddar curtain. So...

...Christmas Eve 2006, I wore my Chicago Bears coat to the wife's family festivities. I proudly marched in, blue and orange fully on display. As soon as I entered the room, one of the young nephews looked truly horrified. His first words weren't "Merry Christmas" or "hello" or anything of a holiday greeting. His words, yelled with horror:
"TAKE THAT OFF!" He started crying. Dear god, crying over my coat!


I, being the sensitive type, responded by singing the Chicago Bears fight song. 

I saw more than a few shudders. I'm lucky most didn't see the coat until AFTER I had opened my presents.
To the left: We interrupt this blog to ask what has Freckles done with Santa and why is she smiling like that?

Back to New Year's Eve. Does anyone go outside anymore and bang pots and pans at Midnight? That was one of my favorite things to do as a kid. I'm going to try and talk the wife into doing that tonight. We must have some old pot that she doesn't care about. (I don't think I'll use her good cooking pots--what if she ever decided she wanted to cook something?!! Tee hee!!)I'll ask the wife to bang pots and pans outside only IF we are still awake at Midnight. I'm notorious for sleeping right through the New Year. I figure it will still be there in the morning, so I don't worry too much about it. I'm feeling lucky right now, so I'm gonna go out on a limb and say we'll be awake when the Time Square ball drops.... that's because that will happen at 11 PM our time. I guess we can't bang pots and pans at 11 PM. Not only would that confuse the drunks, it would be just plain wrong.  

As for me and midnight, my guess is that Lucy and I will look like this:
ZZZZZZZzzzzzzz....

Happy 2007, friends of the addiverse! Go Bears!

Tuesday, December 26, 2006

What's Cookin' for the Holidays...

"Spaghetti Burgers ala Wild Mama." A family favorite, or so they tell me. They're actually hamburger patty-shaped meatball sandwiches, as far as I can tell, but the wife LOVES them and can't get enough of these traditional delicacies. Here they are, simmering before the Christmas Dinner.
(Word of wisdom: don't make vegetable lasagna for your meat-loving family--they won't eat it.)
(More words of wisdom: do not criticize the wife about the lack of food products for the Christmas meal when she is in the process of making said meal.)
(Biggest words of wisdom: order a pizza and call it a day.)

Bah Humbug! Freckles has had enough of the holidays AND enough of this hat.
Lucy finds out "there is no Santa Claus."

The newest in shoes: youngest niece shows off her rollerskate gymshoes. Ho ho ho! She zipped around the kitchen like it was a roller rink. No one was hurt but the wife did experience a few moments of sheer terror when youngest niece went flying by the baker's rack and into the refrigerator....

My cup runneth over.....this is the new "sport" for the masses--speed stacking. I'm not kidding. Some drunk in a bar probably created this game and is now a zillionare. Much time was spent on Christmas day cup stacking. I've gotta tell ya--it's a lot harder than it looks, especially when challenged by a 13 year old professional speed stacker of a niece.
Finally, if you are bored and lonely and have run out of cups to stack and you have some time on your hands new years eve, go to www.20Q.net
I don't know how it does it, but it's mighty fun. Oujui oujui!!!!

Friday, December 22, 2006

Here's the Scoop, Poop!


It was the best of times, it was the worst of times....

Today was a great day and a real downer at the same time. (I would have said it was a shitty day but there was no shit to be had, so it really just kind of sucked.) I refuse to give any "power" to today's yuckiness and instead focus on the poop. Literally.



I'm thinking of Mr. Hanky the Christmas Poo, from South Park. Merry Poopy Christmas!

My beloved employees, who know me so well it's almost scary, got me a "Monthly Doos" dog poop calendar for Christmas. This may not be your cup of tea, but it certainly is mine. In addition, they got me a poop key chain, a poop pen and a poop ornament for the tree. (That's one ornament the wife won't be hanging on the christmas tree.) It's poop overload, only better. 




How can you not just love a gnome with a wheelbarrel heading for the dog poop?



(Go to www.zymetrical.com to see the poop-related items, including this calendar--described on their website: "Finally, a calendar dedicated to the colorful achievements of man's best friend! In the fifth edition of this cult classic, no mound was left unturned in search of the perfect shot. With 12 nauseating and somewhat disturbing high art photos inside, this work of crap gives new hope to boring calendars everywhere....") Tasty!

Since I'm babbling about poop, I'd like to share that the Colon Care Formula has made my life a little more....pleasant? I can't thank Suziki DiFranco enough for helping my bowels become one with the Universe. See? Now my bad day doesn't fell so bad. A few minutes of infantile poop talk and I'm good to go.....well, not literally, in this case. Maybe in 12 or 14 hours....

In addition to my poop gifts, my beloved employees made me a "The Scoop on Poop" Book. It looks like they gleaned a lot of the information from www.heptune.com/poop.html The information includes facts on:why poops stinks, what poop is made of, why poop is brown (usually, that is), why some poop floats, even the origin of the word poop. The Poop Thesaurus is especially entertaining--there are more names for poop than you can shake a stick at. 

Give me a holler if you're looking for twenty or thirty slang words for poop. I'm sure that will come in handy during Christmas dinner.....

Friday, December 15, 2006

Tis the season....



Sorry I have been away from the blog for a week. I've been in a food coma...
....unable to even button my pants. 

Tis the season for overeating....parties, potlucks, dinners, cookies, chocolate presents....to the left is an example of the problem I am experiencing: MJagger's cheesy potatoes. No offense to the wife, but MJagger makes some KICK ASS cheesy potatoes. After my third helping, my stomach no longer had any room--I swear the cheesy morsels of delight were in my esophogus. Woof. I'm still in pain and I ate those three helpings yesterday. 

Here is a photo of the famous sausage balls, of which I did not partake--but, they got rave reviews at this morning's departmental breakfast. 


To help you get into the holiday spirit, I thought I'd share memories of a few favorite gifts and foods over the years. 

Take, for instance, the Christmas when I was five years old. If I'm not mistaken, we were living in Boston at that time and had returned to the Windy City for the holiday festivities. We stayed with our grandparents that year, with Lil Sis and I taking over my aunt's bed. This was an AWESOME Christmas, as Santa brought me a G.I. Joe Machine Gun! Now, that's a good present. (I'm serious!) Although that was a mighty exciting part of this particular holiday, finding Santa in the bathroom was the highlight of Christmas Eve....

...While trying to sleep on Christmas Even (you know how hard that can be), I was peeking out of my supposedly closed eyes while "sleeping" in my aunt's bedroom. I was facing the doorway. It was still mighty dark out. Suddenly, I swear to you that I saw Santa walk into the bathroom and shut the door. I was so excited I could barely contain myself! 

SANTA is in the BATHROOM!

He's HERE! HE'S HERE! 

(Even Santa has to pee, doesn't he? I mean, that's a LONG journey he takes.)
 
I quickly SQUEEZED my eyes shut, as I figured Santa would take the gifts back if he knew I was awake. I prayed I wouldn't squirm in delight.  

PLEASE PLEASE PLEASE DON'T LET SANTA KNOW I'M AWAKE!!! SANTA, I'VE BEEN GOOD ALL YEAR! PLEASE DON'T LET ME BLOW IT NOW!

Thankfully, Santa did not see me and thus the machine gun was mine for the taking:Looking back, I assume it was my grandfather in the bathroom, but who REALLY knows???!

Over the years, I've been given some awesome presents: a telescope in fourth grade, a new 10 speed bike in eighth grade (yellow! Woo woo!) and even a yellow hat with a siren on top when I was in tenth grade. I think my favorite gift in the recent years was the Poop Calendar I received from a co-worker last year. I know, I know, that is so juvenile, but it was the best calendar I have ever received--dog poop every month! You KNOW how much I love to talk about poop--well, this just gave me permission to talk about dog poop at any given moment during the work day. (It IS a fine line between staff and client, I tell you.) If I weren't in such a food coma, I'd tell you more about holidays gone by. Until I "pass" those cheesy potatoes, I won't be doing much of anything, so you'll just have to wait....a few hours...a few days? Please don't make it a week....

Friday, December 08, 2006

Friendly Neighbor with a Snow Blower: Disaster of 1998



This is a difficult story to tell without visuals (such as me using wild Italian-ish hand gestures), but I will do my best to illustrate the disaster through wordy words. (Thus, I employing the photo above, from solisnetwork. It's not exactly what happened but it sure is funny.)

Just so we’re clear, it’s all the wife’s fault. Keep that in mind while I’m telling this saga.

Back in the day—oh, 1998 BD--before dogs--the wife always accused me as being “unfriendly neighbor.” This title was earned because I really didn’t spend much time interacting with any of our neighbors. She claims I didn’t even wave to them, but it was more that I half-waved and then went into the house. (Okay, so that might be a LITTLE unfriendly but it wasn’t like I was giving anyone “the finger” or lighting poop-in-a-bag on the porch or anything.) I admit I wasn’t half as friendly as the wife was; she was always visiting or talking or discussing gardening—whatever. I was in the house having a cool beverage while she was yipping. It seemed better that way.

As I ALWAYS listen to the wife, I finally took her words to heart. On a very, very, very snowy evening, I decided to be FRIENDLY NEIGHBOR.

The wife had just purchased a new snow blower and I was very excited to see the snow, as this meant I would have the chance to use the new machine. I am SO about snow blowers. I was in winter bliss as I plowed up and down the driveway. Once done, I looked up and down our street. Hmm. No one else was snow blowing yet and the snow was piling up......

I decided that it would indeed qualify me for friendly neighbor status if I snow blowed a few driveways for our nearest neighbors. I plowed the neighbor to the north’s driveway, I plowed the neighbor across the street driveway, I plowed the neighbor to the south’s driveway. That seemed friendly enough. I was covered in snow and sweating like a pig, so I thought I’d call it a day. After all, there is only so much friendly one can take in one outing.

Then, I thought I should do one…more….driveway—the neighbor kitty-corner from us. They were a young couple and I knew they didn’t have a snowblower. What’s one more driveway? So, I pushed the snow blower across the street and gave one more round of Friendly Neighbor snow blowing….

….I should have stopped.

So, I push the snowblower right down the middle of the driveway, heading from the street to the garage. I’m not kidding—right down the middle—not to the left, not to the right—the middle. (This will be of significance in just a few moments.) I’m halfway to the driveway when there is this bloodcurdling SCRREEEEECH....
 
....the tree to the right SNAPS down toward the ground 

....the tree SNAPS right back up.....

....the Christmas lights come RIPPING off the tree....
.....the snow blower SCREAMS like it’s been hit by a truck....
....the Christmas lights come RIPPING off the garage gutters, B

AM BAM BAM BAM like a machine gun shooting off rounds. 
The brand new snowblower comes to a grinding halt.

Our neighbors had a large orange extension cord running down the MIDDLE OF THE DRIVEWAY. Now, why anyone would have an extension cord in the middle of the driveway, I do not know, but I DO know that it was attached to the Christmas lights on the garage and to the Chistmas lights on that poor little tree that bent in half as the lights ripped off of it. I couldn’t see the cord because it was under a foot of snow.

There I stood in the partially-plowed driveway, extension cord and Christmas lights sucked into the snow blower that no longer worked. (These lights, of course, were not the cheapy kind most people use these days. Oh no, these were the old-fashioned big lights, probably from their grandparents as a gift cuz those poor neighbors couldn’t afford new lights. These were the expensive kind you can’t buy anymore.) The gutter was hanging slightly off the garage. The lights, of course, were off and no longer softly glowing in the falling snow. How I wasn’t killed by electrocution, I’ll never know.

Since it sounded like a truck hit the house when this all happened, the neighbors came running out (in their bare feet, I might add). What could I do but say….

….”Uh, hi, I’m your neighbor.”

Suffice it to say that after a half hour, the neighbor guy got all the cords out of the snow blower (he had put his shoes on by then), the driveway never got plowed and I felt like a complete moron. (Just for the record: While I couldn’t replace the lights, I did buy them a new extension cord. It’s the least I could do. And, I didn’t try and snow blow their driveway ever again.) I sadly and slowly pushed the jammed snow blower back across the street and to the garage, not knowing if I had destroyed the new machine in addition to destroying the neighbor’s holiday decorations. Thankfully, the snow blower was no worse for the wear but it was still awful having to tell the wife about the dreaded snow blowing disaster of the day.

To be honest, those neighbors moved that spring.

So much for that friendly neighbor crap.

Friday, December 01, 2006

Snow Day!
Hell hath no fury like a teacher waiting to hear if it's a snow day or not.
I've been living with a teacher for the past forty zillion years and I can tell you one thing: Teachers like snow days more than kids. They live for it. It all starts with a simple weather report. Teachers hone in the word "snow" the minute it falls out of the meteorologist's lips. Snow? How much snow? When is the snow scheduled to fall? When is the snow scheduled to stop? This is followed by the "look-out-the-window-every-thirty-minutes" ritual to see if the snow is falling, how much snow is falling, how much snow is on the ground.
You think I'm kidding? Ask any teacher...
So, the weather report indicates snow in the forcast. The snow starts falling in the middle of the night. This is a good thing, as it ups the chances of a snow day. Why? Because the roads can't get plowed for the buses if the snow starts in the middle of the night. If the snow falls "too early," the roads get plowed, the buses run, the teachers have to work. Wind also helps. If the wind is blowing more than less, the visibility is less than more and this, too, increases the chance of a snow day. If the snow starts falling too late in the morning, the classes will probably go on as scheduled but class will get out early. This is NOT what a teacher wants to happen.
Then there is the "magic moment--the announcement" on the TV, radio and Internet--the words that schools are closed...or not.
I guarantee you that teachers get up a LOT earlier than the kids to see if school is cancelled. The wife scans the TV listings like a true snowday professional. The worst moment is when a whole bunch of schools are listed but the wife's school is not listed. Oh, the horror! This is very painful for the non-teacher. There's bitching and moaning and complaining and swearing and really bad moods. This leads to more watching of the TV and more pissy-ness. The wife, in my case, goes outside and swears as she shovels. (I stick to snowblowing. I don't want to die of a heart attack. She's already all pissy and angry--let her have the heart attack.) The wife then slams off her boots and goes back to the TV, the radio, the Internet....
If, by chance, the school of employment is listed, the mood changes instantly. Snow Day! Snow Day! Snow Day!
It's like winning the teacher lottery. (Of course, the rest of us sorry saps still have to go to work but the teachers do not.) I don't know what teachers actually do on their snow days--I think most of them go out shopping, which in my mind means they really could have gone to work if it weren't for those damned buses not running for the kiddies.
Today is a perfect example of a snow day in the Addiverse....
There had been a call for 6-12" of snow. This madness started yesterday, which means the wife started fretting over 24 hours before the snow actually showed up--and, as the weather goes, you never know IF the snow is actually going to show up at all. (My weather motto is: see it to believe it.) She was up looking out the window in the middle of the night--I caught her. That's what teachers do--they peer out the window--it's her job to uphold this tradition. It's snowing! And, what does she see? Why, it's snowing like a bitch and it started in the middle of the night and it's really windy and the plows aren't out yet and this is the perfect recipe for the beloved snow day.
The first thing the wife did this morning? Turns on the TV and starts lamenting that her school isn't yet listed on the closing list. The wife then gets on the phone--damn! No school closing listed on the message. She then gets the computer and goes on line. I don't even think she's peed yet and she's going through the teacher-snow day-ritual. It's time to go shovel and be pissy. This morning, the garage door wouldn't shut--you can imagine how pleased this made the wife. Not only does she still believe she has to go to work, the garage door is stuck wide open and snow is howling into the garage onto her beloved Mustang. It cannot get much worse than this.
It is hard to calm down a teacher counting on a snow day when the snow day has yet to be confirmed.
There is no rationalization, no words of soothing, no words of wisdom. The only remedy is that the TV, radio and Internet announce that the school of choice is closed.
Then, it happens--the wife's school is announced as closed...........but, only for half the day!!!!
This is almost WORSE than no snow day at all! How could they do this? Everyone else is closed the entire day! (This is the point when I decide it is time to go to work. It's safer that way.)
Ah, the teacher and the snow day. It's something most of us won't ever understand unless we, too, become teachers. Me? I'm just going to go to work and leave the wife to the snow days... five bucks says she'll go shopping....