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Wednesday, November 25, 2009


MMMMMMM... PIE
or Yes. They're real...and they are SPECTACULAR!

Okay, so every year at Thanksgiving I am asked, nay required, to bake two homemade lemon meringue pies for mass consumption at Big Mar's holiday table.

It's not that hard--that's what she said! You, too can wow your drunken, lame-ass family and friends. Fire up your printer, because I'm about to blow your mind by sharing our top-secret, passed from one generation to none, Luscious Lemon Pie recipe:


Lemon Meringue Pie


1 bottle of chilled Pinot Grigio or frozen bottle of Limoncello

4 Eggs

¼ Cup Cornstarch

1/8 Teaspoon Salt

1 ½ Cup Sugar

¼ Cup Flour

1 ½ Cup Boiling Water

2 Tablespoons Butter

½ - ¾ Cup Lemon Juice

2 Teaspoons Lemon Peel


First things first, one must always be in the proper frame of mind when one is cooking or baking. This is key if your culinary treat is to come out at all edible. Ergo:


1. Load up your CD player with your favorite tunes of the moment. Crank it up to eleven or just until your ears start to bleed.

2. Uncork the wine or Limoncello. Pour a healthy glass full. Consume. Repeat as needed.


Ready?


Bake pie crust as directed on package, unless you're a Martha Stewart wanna be and just HAVE to make your own crust, then you're on your own. Show off.


Separate eggs (they're notorious for not getting along), squeeze juice. (I said squeeze JUICE, not Judy! Sheesh!) In a non-stick pot, mix together sugar, cornstarch, flour and salt over medium high heat. Stir in boiling water gradually. Cook over direct heat, stirring constantly until thickened.


Refill your wine glass. Consume.


Beat yolks slightly (they don't seem to mind. eggs are kinda kinky that way) and stir in at least 1/2 of the hot mixture. (I usually only put about two spoonfuls in the egg yolk mixture because seriously, whose going to do this step. Really. I know, I know. This is so the yokes don't get all scrambly in the hot, sugary ooze. Yeah. Yeah. Whatever.)


Add yolks, juice, peel and butter. (I usually pour less than half of the juice in at first, then gradually add more as it is cooking. because honestly, sometimes there's just too much juice--That's what she said!!) Continue to cook, stirring until it is clear and thick. Add to cooled pie crust.



Time to Mering-gay, Baby!


Egg whites from the four eggs above (a reminder just in case you've been hitting Step 2 listed above an extra time or three and forgot)

1/4 tsp Cream of Tartar (whatever the hell that is. Really. What the heck is that? Tartar is, like plaque, isn't it? WTF?!? Who wants plaque in pie? Uh...you do, round eye.)

1/4 tsp of vanilla extract

8 tbsp of sugar


Beat egg whites (Holy Crap! ova are apparently the masochists of the food world) and the mysterious Cream of Tartar in your fabulous Kitchen Aid mixer.


Oh. You don't have one. So sad for you, Loser. You'll be working that hand mixer while the rest of us Kitchen Aid owners will have our hands free to refill and enjoy another lovely chilled glass of vino, chat on the phone and flip through a magazine while the mixer works its magic.


Add sugar, one tablespoon at a time until stiff peaks form. Add vanilla. Real vanilla. Not that cheap imitation crap. Mix one last time to infuse the essence of the individual flavors into the delectable white, sugary cloud of confectionery awesomeness known as Meringue. Slather onto previously constructed pie.


Bake for 10-12 minutes in a 400 degree oven. Voila!!


That ought to keep the little bastards all sugared up and happy.


There you have it. Nothing left to do, but fill your glass of hootch, unbutton your pants, grab a fork and dig in. You've earned it.

Happy Thanksgiving y'all!!

Tuesday, November 24, 2009

Some People's Kids... Are AMAZING

Okay, so you know my dearly departed buddy, KJo? He's the one who abandoned us fellow Northerners and hi-tailed it South to nestle in the comforting clutch of the warm sun of a saucy little wench called Florida...AKA the Nation's wang...

But I'm not bitter

Anywho-he has two lovely little girls who bare his wife's likeness and his humor gene. His eldest, Peanut, has suffered from an incurable heart disease since birth. She has had countless open heart surgeries throughout her little, fragile life--including two pacemakers and an internal defibrillator. She comes face-to-face with her own mortality every day. Her prognosis is uncertain, yet she has endured all these life-sustaining medical intrusions with more strength and grace than most adults.

She never complains.

Last week her seventh grade writing assignment was to pen a poem entitled "I am..."

This tender tike apparently has never expressed how she feels about her physical dilemma. Until now. She is articulate, brave and hopeful. She is an inspiration. Her missive puts one's own life challenges in perspective.

After you read this, I'll be waiting with a Klennex for you at the other end.

I AM

I AM... A STRONG AND LOVED PERSON
I WONDER... HOW HEALTHY I WILL BE IN TEN YEARS
I HEAR... MY DEFIBRILLATOR CLICK WHEN I SIT QUIETLY
I SEE... MY SCARS WHEN I LOOK IN THE MIRROR
I WANT... TO BE ABLE TO RUN A MILE LIKE EVERY OTHER KID
I AM... A STRONG AND LOVED PERSON
I PRETEND... THAT SOMETIMES I'M A NORMAL KID
I FEEL... PHYSICALLY TIRED SOMETIMES
I TOUCH... MANY LIVE'S WITH HOPE
I WORRY... ABOUT MY FUTURE
I CRY... WHEN I CAN'T KEEP UP WITH EVERYONE
I AM... A STRONG AND LOVED PERSON
I UNDERSTAND... THAT I HAVE LIMITS
I SAY... I CAN DO ANYTHING I PUT MY MIND TO
I DREAM... ABOUT LIFE WITHOUT HEART DISEASE
I TRY... TO BE A POSITIVE FACE TO HEART DISEASE
I HOPE... TO LIVE A LONG HEALTHY LIFE
I AM... A STRONG AND LOVED PERSON


Some people's kids, huh?

Thursday, November 19, 2009

Tosh.0 Web Redemption-Home Shopping Fail
Seriously. You guys should watch this show!!

Okay, so comedian Daniel Tosh ain't right. Not at all. Not in the least. His show consists of him in front of a green screen trashing the freaks from YouTube. Talk about low budget.

I don't know that it could be any cheaper. But it never fails to make us laugh out loud.

One of the weekly staples is called Web Redemption. They find a video of someone being a complete and utter asshat, track the individual down and let them ... well, redeem themselves on national TV.

Last week's web redemption was something we'd all like to see...

Who knew a pitch man's life was so dangerous. The entire episode is as Elaine Benis would say, "sponge worthy". Give it a go.

Now.

Really. Go on Comedy Central now and watch it.

What are you still doing here?

Oh for Pete's sake... here's the link, lazy ass. Tosh.O

You're welcome.

Wednesday, November 18, 2009

Road Trip!!
or how I spent a beautiful Dallas evening amongst good friends and one White-Hawt performer for a good cause


Okay, so last year I read about this annual charity event for Cystic Fibrosis which features a concert by my one and only fantasy husband, Rhett Miller. (At this point, do I even have to mention his name? Are you new?)

Anywho, we decided to travel to Dallas this year to experience the glory of a Rhett concert in his home town. Okay... I decided we should make the trek. Geo being the most incredible husbands on earth went along with the idea. Plus we got the added bonus of visiting our friend, Myra, whom we haven't seen in about four years.

Through the magic of Twitter, Geo was able to submit designs for the concert's annual t-shirt. They didn't choose his design for the tee, but used it for a limited edition, signed poster sold at the event. Honestly, the t-shirt design they chose kinda sucked. Geo's was so much better, but the poster came out really well, don't ya think?

Sorry the image is a little blurry, but I'm a computer boob and couldn't figure out how to copy the original over to here so I had to take a picture of the computer screen with my camera phone and ... well, at least it's an image, right? Plus I couldn't find the final version with Salim's name on it, but you can get the idea how awesome this turned out. Maybe we'll make a t-shirt out of this ourselves. And by "we", I mean Geo of course. Right, Honey? Love you!! :D

Moving on...

We met up with my Austin friend, Cindy who drove up for the concert and to interview Salim Nourallah for her blog. She's the Texas State prof who also writes for Texas Music Magazine and manages to get interviews with notable musicians for her blog onthatnote.com. Here's a link to her take on the evening here.

The event was a little ... peculiar. I suppose I was expecting the VIP concert beforehand to be this fantastic intimate 45-minute performance by Rhett. It wasn't. There were so many names on the bill that he barely got to play for an hour. So that was a bit disappointing. Although I was glad to finally hear Salim perform and The O's were really great. They had raffles in between acts which ate up time, but helped them raise a lot of money for CF which was the point of the evening.

The one thing that really struck me was how RUDE the crowd was. Being we were in Dallas and all the bands were hometown acts I expected the crowd to be more respectful and into the music.

Wrong!

It was the most chatty crowd I've been in for a long time! I mean they would not SHUT UP!!?! Even when Rhett was on stage. People. Do you not realize you are standing a mere eight feet away from them and they can HEAR YOU? On one of my videos you can actually hear a girl say "Stop talking and SING!" And that was during the blue-eyed lovely one's set! As Geo says, "Don't you hate when the music is so loud it gets in the way of your conversation?" Some people's kids.

I was pretty stoked he finally played one of my all-time faves Bel Air. *Squeal*


Sorry about the shakiness... and the singing. I can't help it. Here are some more videos from the evening.

Stoned and a teeny bit of Like Love (if you listen carefully you can hear the girl say "Stop talking and sing". Rhett even chuckles al little about it)


Weightless


Doreen


At one point the EmCee, local radio personality Gordon Keith sang a man duet, or as the folks at CF Concert Series called it a "dudet" of the theme to WKRP in Cinncinnati.



All in all it wasn't a bad evening. Would I travel 2000 miles to participate again next year...probably not. But I'm glad we went.

Because it is ALL about the hair... and the eyes... and the arms... and the brain... and the music... and the....

Friday, November 13, 2009

Friday Video
Fun Interview With My Heartthrob Honey

He's baaaaaaack.

Come on... It's been a while and you just knew I'd have to post something about my buddy. Stumbled on this little interview of Rhett and Murry from their stop in San Francisco this summer. (Honestly I couldn't figure out how to save this anywhere else, so it ended up on this here blog for safe keeping)

It includes some touring insight on laundry.

Old 97's Interview from Michael Capozzola on Vimeo.

Gotta love all the spitting and sweating on stage.

Le Sigh*

Monday, November 9, 2009

What I Did On Halloween Night
or hanging with the freaks on the South Side of town

(I know. I know. This is waaaay late. I was busy, a'ight. Okay. I was too lazy to write. Shut up already.)

Okay, so every year for the past 17 an assortment of musicians, singers and humorous media types get together and put on a tribute show around Halloween called The Night of the Singing Dead. It's not your usual tribute show. The irreverent evening skewers.. er, pays homage via song to celebrities, politicians and other notables who have died over the past year or 40.

Two of the funniest guys I know-Lars and Steve-write this thing and it is so lame at times that it is hilarious! No celebrity is taboo.

This year's theme was a Reunion Show. The show started with Demi Moore and Patrick Swayze messing around a potter's wheel a la Ghost. However, being that Demi isn't dead, they kicked her off stage and traded up for... Chris Farley. So this HUGE dude in a Chris Farley fat suit proceeds to work his magic as Demi, then Baby from Dirty Dancing and finally himself from the classic Chipendale dance off from SNL.

The show also included hosts Billy Mays, Ed McMahon and Johnny Carson; a Fantasy Island Reunion: Tatou and Mr. Roarke; a Batman Villans Reunion: The Joker, The Riddler, The Penguin and Catwoman; a Woodstock Reunion: Hendrix, Garcia, Joplin and Morrison and of course Michael Jackson(s)-plural.

By far though, the best was the Kennedy Family Reunion complete with a "Special Guest":


and Mary Travers played by the delightful Carol Lee Espy:


When the show was over we headed out into the streets to mingle with the masses of masked mortals. I don't know what was more entertaining, the show we just exited or the freaks-on-parade happening on the streets.

I swear Halloween is every thin-framed, full-busted girl's excuse to dress like a Super Hootchie. Seriously. I saw more naughty nurses, bosom-baring Bavarian barmaids and loose-moraled Catholic school girls than hookers in Vegas when the fleet's in.

To my delight, there were a couple of men in frocks sprinkled in for my own personal enjoyment. One lumbering hulk of a guy was in a blue-sequined, micro-mini and sporting big ole tranny pumps. Another cheerleader gent flashed me his big, plastic girl boobies.

Ha Ha Ha!!

If I had had beads, I would have thrown them at him. As it is I could only convey my approval by hooking the horn.

Have I shared how amusing I find straight dudes in girl duds? I do. Really. To me it's one of the funniest things on earth. Never fails to Crack.Me.Up!!

And then there were these two sitting in the window of Mario's.


A foamy stripper with pasties, g-string and dead sexy... orthopedic shoes?!? Yeah...

Oh Look! My date's here!


Where do you suppose you put the batteries in that thing?
Hey! I Resemble That Remark...

Okay, so last night on the brilliantly irreverent Family Guy, the story line centered around Brian, the dog (yes, the dog) dating a woman who was 50 years old. Lois and Peter launched into this whole slam about her being decrepit and as ancient as Jessica Tandy. And then they were all--

You: Wait... The dog talks?

Me: *Sigh* Yes. The dog talks and drinks and dates bipedal women. That's not the point. The point is they were going on and on about how old, feeble and grandma-like this chick is and how Lois would have to cook dinner with more fiber for her since she is so elderly and has no teeth and so on and so forth, yadda yadda yadda...bite me.

Then later on when she and Brian are doing the nasty (I know..ewww, but just roll with it), she snaps a hip in two like a brittle twig in mid winter!?

COME ON!! She's only 50 for God's sake!!

I'm all for off-color humor and un-pc remarks, but this whole 50-is-like-dating-the-Crypt-Keeper thang hit a bit too close to my Mesozoic mandible. I'm mere months away from the big 5-0 and I take umbrage to the entire notion that I'm less than youthful or a kick to be around or need to wear a Medic Alert button around my neck for frelling sake.

I'm still vital, I tell ya. Vital!!

But I'm not bitter. No. Do I sound bitter? Because I'm not. Really. Not much anyway.

Why you be hating on us slightly beyond middle agers, Seth?

All I can say is you're killing me. Seriously. You, Seth MacFarland, are stabbing me in my very soul. I swear to God, when I get out of this chair I'm going to shoot you square in the head. I'm going to kick you so hard in your dingle-berries your Peter Griffin voice will sound like Tiny Tim singing one of those lame-ass, ukulele pieces of shit tunes. I'll show you...

(angrily gets up from chair...back stooped, knees crackling, hip popping)

dammit... I need a nap.

Here's a link to the hulu.com feed of the episode:
http://www.hulu.com/watch/105846/family-guy-brians-got-a-brand-new-bag#s-p1-so-i0

Here's a YouTube link to the segment discussed above:
Oh and for the record, I have no idea what a fucking davenport is.

Wednesday, November 4, 2009

Sometimes It's The Little Things That Mean The Most
or cheering up a old friend

Okay, so one of my dearest friends in the entire universe was diagnosed with cervical cancer this summer. We were all floored. This news came completely out of the blue.

She was having no pains, just excessive bleeding which generally is cleared up with a D & C. You go into the hospital, get hooked up to some really amazing drugs, take a nap, the doc scrapes the offending tissue away...5 hours later, you're up and on your way home. Simple, right?

Wrong.

Poor Jude had to have an hysterectomy. That's bad enough, but then she had to carry around a wound-vac, vacuum cleaner kinda thingie attached to her gut for a couple of weeks to aid the healing of a 2 inch deep incision.

No lie. A.Vacuum.Cleaner.

It sucks...literally.

The good news is the surgeon removed all of the cancer.

Thank you God. We all owe you one.

The bad news is she has to endure five solid weeks of radiation--that's 25 days worth--and five three-hour long chemo sessions. She's a little more than half way through.

Jude's endured so much over the last five weeks. We decided to try to cheer her up like only her bestest, classiest, loving friends can. So what do you do for one of your beloved twisted sisters to bring a smile (and hopefully a belly laugh) to her world-weary face?

Why you send her a series of irreverent cards signed by some of her favorite off-colored names, of course! The first "hope your vajayjay is feeling better" greeting was from Erin McCooter.

Jude opened this aberrant acknowledgement this morning and immediately called, crying with laughter. Seems we were able to help start her day off in the proper frame of mind.

Mission accomplished. For realz.

Hopefully she'll be equally happy to hear from our good friends Howie Feltersnatch, Anita Cox and that lovely Greek tycoon, Harry Paratestes. They (whoever the hell "they" are) always say laughter is the best medicine. We're shooting for a triple dose for our BFF.

Nothing but the best for you, Judes. We love you!!

Monday, November 2, 2009

The Bug World Is STILL Out To Get Me, Y'All
Seriously. WTF?!

Okay, so yesterday me and Geo were outside trimming hedges and other greenery which we ignored all summer, which ended up being all gargantuan and out of control. Seriously. The branches of the willow bushes in front of the deck were about 20 feet long... and saucy, too. Every time I'd walk by they'd whistle and grab my ass.

Cheeky shrubbery. (pun intended)

Anywho, Geo was machete-ing (is that even a word? probably not. I make crap up.) his way through the Weigelia when out popped a spider with the biggest ASS I HAVE EVER SEEN!!

As you all are aware, I'm a fan of the hyperbole, but honest to GAWD this critter's derriere was at least the size of a nickel. It was down right bootylicious! Even Beyonce would be humbled by the girth of this gluteus maximus.

It farging FREAKED ME OUT!! Take a look. That thing should have its own zip code. I hope you all realize the sacrifice I made searching for a picture of this aberration. My skin is still crawling. Eeewwwww!!? *shudder*

Both repulsed and fascinated by this eight-legged anomaly, I asked my wonderfully wise Geo if I should stomp the very life out of this hideous creepy-crawly. On the advice of said hubby and against my better judgement, I spared Betty Big Butt here a date with the sole of my Doc Marten.

Sucker.

Fast forward to this afternoon.

So I come home from a pleasant day at the Special K all cheery and singing. The sun shining, chipmunks dancing at my feet, blue birds hovering around my head, chirping like they do for freaking Cinderella. I innocently reach into the mail box to collect our various correspondence of the day when...

Big Butt Bertha leaps out from the stack of mail in my arms and nails me into the railing with her Shakira hips.

Stunned by the sudden bump on my noggin, I look up to see Helen Hindquarters dancing over me, her beady eyes narrowing to a glare, badonka-donk wagging back and forth, taunting me Keanu Reeves style from the Matrix--the original not those crappy sequels.

Me: "Oh. This is how you repay me for not crushing you yesterday, Be-yatch? Really. This is you thanking me?"

She let out an evil laugh, and I swear I smelled sulfur.

Me: "You want at me? Well have at it. Let's do this thing, you dirty whore."

I sprung up. She slid her back spiny leg across my ankles and sent me down hard, but not before I grabbed the snow shovel. (Yeah. We still have the snow shovel out. What of it? We get easily distracted, like a seasonal distracted disorder. Don't judge us.) As my head cracked on the concrete, I swung wildly, connecting with her man-sized pinchers, sending her rolling onto the sidewalk. Dazed and running on instinct alone, I was able to finish her off with a succession of crushing hits with the cricket bat I just happened to have in my back pocket.

Exhausted, sweat dripping from my nose I watched as the last twitch of life left my malicious marauder.

WTF?!?!

Seriously. I let her live and this is how she repays me? That's it. All you disgusting dirt dwellers are on notice. No more Mrs. Nice-Nice. You're all on my list.

In my search for the visage of this villaness, I stumbled upon this video which may explain why she was so... cranky.