"Balls" said the Queen

and the King laughed because he had two...

Okay, so last Saturday Suzette and I were at work sitting around pondering how unusual it is for our hairdresser's six-year-old son to love sushi AND liver and onions. The sushi I can sort of understand, but the liver and onions?! ICK! I mean it's a freaking organ, for goodness sake!?! I don't know many adults who eat that stuff let alone a six-year-old. This lead us to wonder who was the first person to look at a disgusting animal part, lick his lips and say "that big ole, two foot cow's tongue looks mighty tasty. I think I'll boil me up some of that bad boy. Mmmm MMM!" 

Which naturally lead us to the biggest food mystery of all... namely which numb nut (pun intended) gazed at the back side of a bull, spotted its stretched sack of dingly dangs hovering a mere inch above the grassy field and declared those gonads good eating? Seriously. Yeah, I know the story...cowboys out castrating calves...collecting the slimy nuts in a tin pan...yadda yadda yadda--dinner. But, come on. Have you ever seen a bowl of these tendergroins? Not pretty. 

What would possibly possess someone to want to chow down on those puppies? I realize there are few things on earth that aren't yummie deep fried, but I think I'll pass...even if they come with Jimmies.

You know, I've seen grown men cover their boys and cower at the thought of their dogs getting neutered, and yet many a man has entered prairie oyster eating contests. I don't get it. I think my system would reverse gears just watching them consume that "cowboy caviar". 

If you just have to sample these huevos del toro, there are any number of "Testicle Festivals" held throughout the West. Yes. They're actually called "Testicle Festivals". Isn't that a hoot? Eagle, Idaho boasts the world's largest Rocky Mountain Oyster feed held in June. You might want to book your reservation early. I hear the lines for the "swinging beef" get pretty long. (that's what she said!) At least people have a great sense of humor about the whole thing. Check out this logo below. This poster cracks me up!

Tired of serving the same old bacon wrap hor'dourves? This holiday season why not treat your guests to a piping hot dish of Noel Nards with this simple recipe:

2 lbs of slippery calf nuts

egg

flour

crumb mixture

Wash your nuts. Cut your nuts almost through, butterfly fashion. Dredge your nuts in flour, then egg, then crumb mixture. Deep fry your nuts until golden brown. Remove your nuts from the hot oil and place on a paper towel to remove excess oil from nuts. Dip your nuts in your favorite sauce. 

Bone Apetit!

Secondary Obsession of the Month 

or more Jeffrey Dean Morgan please 

Some of you may think I'm solely consumed by my love of all-things-Rhett, but you'd be wrong. Sure Rhett may be the King of all my Thangs right now, but there are others who get my motor running...if you know what I mean. (I love that phrase. It makes anything sound dirty.) 

Case in point is one Jeffrey Dean Morgan. If any of you are devout followers of Grey's Anatomy, JDM is familiar to you as one Denny Duquette--hunky dead guy. 

He is so manly, I could just lick his face! Seriously. Look at him... Seriously.

Those who know me well are aware of my appreciation for men. I like being around guys. I like how they look. I like how they smell. I like how they tease, and I love their bawdy sense of humor. There is no bigger aphrodisiac for me than the combination of intelligence and a roaring sense of humor. Throw in a Scottish accent or slight Southern drawl and my ovaries are quivering like an Aspen on a warm, breezy day. Mr. Morgan here is totally my type...tall, dark, handsome, gorgeous chocolate brown eyes and a Cheshire Cat grin. H-A-W-T!! For lovers of the Stephanie Plum series by Janet Evanovich...he is soooo Joe Morelli!! Hotter still.

Wait..do you hear that purr? That's my ovaries humming. Yowza!

Granted there's not enough Denny Duquette in Grey's Anatomy for my liking, being that he's dead and all. And even though this last three episode arc featuring the return of the uber-hunky dead guy is a treat for us ladies, the show has totally jumped the Happy Days shark in a big way. Come on. Even I can't suspend my belief enough to ignore the preposterous notion that he could magically take corporeal form and make love to Izzie--enthusiastically enough to make her sweat...profusely. Please. That just ain't right. Not that I'm not enjoying gazing at the boy on our drive-in-movie sized computer monitor. I am. But, please. Izzie better have a brain tumor or some other such predicament to explain this crap away. At the very least she better be lying in a broken heap on the hospital basement cement floor, drifting between life and death. 

Not that I'm going to stop watching or anything. 

As a viewer I'm owed a viable explanation. Yeah. That's it. That's my story and I'm sticking with it. Besides...Hello? Denny D is still around. I may be a bit peeved, but I'm not nuts. I mean, come on...look at him. Hey, as the blog title states..blame it on being a girl.

If You Watch It, It Will Stay...

only you can save this show

Yes, I admit I am a HUGE TV freak. I watch waaaay too many programs. So much so that we have stacks upon stacks of VHS tape (yes, we still reside in the late 80's) upon which we've amassed an enormous assortment of "must see" shows which have ultimately been cast aside in favor of more current and urgent programming. It's a sad tower of tape which mocks us mere mortals and our misguided attempt to consume more electronic entertainment than there are hours in a day.

That said, Geo and I have been trying (rather successfully of late I might add) to ration our viewing habits to only the most worthy of programming during the regular network season. New one hour offerings come under the highest scrutiny. It has to be bloody fantastic for us to squeeze another hour onto our already brimming viewing plate.

That brings me to Chuck.

Not that Chuck!?!  This Chuck...

I LOVE Chuck!! I don't just love Chuck... as Woody Allen once said in Annie Hall, I lurve Chuck.

We didn't get to watch Chuck last season because, honestly I didn't know where the hell it was on the schedule. But I made a point to catch the first episode this year and I Am HOOKED, Baby!! It's absolutely delightful! So much so, I'm compelled to abuse the use of the "!"!!

The basic premise is this: Computer Whiz Chuck Bartowski, dropped out of his last year at Stanford after his heart was crushed by his girlfriend who betrayed him with his best friend, Bryce. Stuck in a dead-end job at the local Buy More as head of the Nerd Herd, Chuck unwittingly opened an email from his nemisis, Bryce (now a rogue CIA agent) which downloaded the entire intelligence files of both the CIA and FBI into Chuck's brain effectively turning him into a human "intersect" which must be protected at all costs. Enter the beautiful Sarah Walker (CIA) and the reluctant John Casey (FBI) whose task it is to keep Chuck safe until the intersect can be removed from his noggin. The first episode of this season explains it all better than I. You can watch it online at NBC. com.

This show has something for everyone. There are car chases, shoot outs, spy stuff, clever and witty writing, a hot babe (the stunningly gorgeous Yvonne Strahovski) for the guys, a little sexual tension for the gals, Adam Baldwin (also for the guys who are huge Sci-Fi fans), lovable geeky friends at the Buy More and one of the most adorable, reluctant heroes on the little screen who manages to make being nerdy cool.

I mean, really...look at him. Big brown eyes, warm smile, big brain, kinda awkward, has no idea how cute he is. The sort of guy from college everyone secretly loved. Chuck Bartowski is played to perfection by relative newcomer Zachary Levi. How could you not love this guy. He's absolutely adorable!

And so is the show. Okay, so some times the weekly predicament is wrapped up a little too easily, but each show is so charming and well written and just a whole bunch o' FUN to watch that I can totally forgive them almost anything. It makes me warm and fuzzy inside.

I understand Chuck may be on the bubble of cancellation, so please, PLEASE give it a try. I'd hate to see this little pearl fall into the abyss alongside other short-lived, low-rated gems. Plus I'm hoping to catch them at Comic Con next year...perhaps meet them backstage? (Hint Hint to my good old friend, pal, buddy Gary :D)

Come on. Give it a try. All the cool kids are watchin' it. NBC...8pm...tonight (Monday). Be there.

And Now For Something Completely Different  

yet another reason why I love my hubby...

I just realized there was no Friday Photo posting this week. As a mea culpa make good, may I present this delightful video guaranteed to make you guffaw heartily. Me darlin' husband who subscribes to as many online sites as he does printed periodicals, found this on Very Short List. VSL (not to be confused with VPL--ladies, you know what I'm talking about) is a daily service which shares all the latest hip and happening stuff flitting around on the web. Geo, knowing me so well, knew this would make me laugh so hard milk might actually come out of my nose. The guy's Vlog name is ParryGripp. His home page has all of his assorted animal antics videos. Enjoy!

Giving Thanks...  

for these are a few of my favorite thangs 

It's the Saturday after our big familial Thanksgiving food fest, and I'm still full from two days of traditional food bingeing. I love this holiday. It's always a treat for me, first because I have three whole, glorious days away from the yoke of oppression known as KD (or as spell check likes to suggest "KAKA"), and second I get to spend lots and lots of quality time with my family consuming mass quantities of food and drink, as well as enjoy a sprinkling of activity (cultural or otherwise) so as not to feel like a complete sloth. 

This year was no exception. Due to an unforeseen turkey snafu, we found ourselves with a few extra hours to kill before dinner would be ready. Hmmm.... What to do? How to while away the hours until the bird is sufficiently cooked? 

Why... crack open a bottle of wine (or two) and start the party early, of course.  

Thirty minutes and one dead soldier later--the atmosphere markedly much more lively and LOUD--a call for reinforcements was placed in the form of a second bottle of holiday vino and ....

PUDDING SHOTS!

Why not. There was nothing to watch on TV except football (ewww). Besides, it's always a good time when the Sisters Pelini get lit to the point where we can't feel our cheeks...or our faces for that matter. (insert rim shot here) After much giggling, toasting and Woo Hooing at totally random events, the bird was pronounced DOA and carved for consumption. And. It. Was. GOOD!! (thanks to the guys for picking up our drunken slack and finishing up the food prep)

Two hours later, time to shove some sweet treats into our gullet (that's what she said!). There was a veritable cornucopia of deliciousness spread across the table, not to mention desserts a plenty (Hey-O, Badda Bing!)...chocolate cake, cheese cake, a new pumpkin thing and lemon meringue pies. Ohmigod! This year is the first year my lemon pies didn't melt into a pool of sticky yellow soup. Check it out. It's gorgeous! Seriously. Look at how beautiful it is. And so tasty, too!

The only thing that was missing from this wonderful day was our niece Reg who's spending a year abroad in Japan. She may be living across the globe, but she's never far from our hearts. She would have loved the pre-dinner frivolity. We love ya. This group shot's for you.

To all of my family and friends who make each trip around the sun worthwhile, I thank you for just being who you are and allowing me to come along for the ride. Cheers!!

Now I gotta go help Geo with the leaves.... 

Having nothing of note to say today, I hand over the reigns of creative writing to my friend and coworker who shall go by his random stripper name, Blaze Lusty Tush. Enjoy and Happy Thanksgiving.

When You Gotta Go...

One Sunday afternoon I went into a downtown fast food restaurant to pick up a couple of lunch orders for me and two coworkers. When I entered the establishment, let's call it Blendy's, a young gentleman was standing in the hallway off to the right of the line. This is a normal occurrence at Blendy's, but what I witnessed next I have never seen before and will probably never see again.

The young man was in his late teens to early twenties, about 5'8" and wearing jeans so loose that you could fit two people in them. What piqued my interest was the fact the lad was grasping the back of his blue jeans in his right hand, pacing frantically around Blendy's. His nervous gait slipping into a slow jog as he went to the men's restroom door and rapped frantically upon it. Then the whole restaurant heard the reason for his urgency.

"Sir! I have to shit!! Please, Sir! I'm going to shit my f*cking pants!" I looked with sheer amazement at the other people in line and waited for a response. The reaction was just as you'd expect...nervous silence. I also thought to myself that the young man was using his manners by saying "Sir". Just as I was about to laugh out loud, I saw the young man sprint back to his table and ask the other young fellow he was with, "How long does it take to wash your f*ckin' hands? Jesus Christ!" He then returned quickly back to the restroom door and began to pound loudly.

"Sir! I really have to f*cking shit!" By now panic started to set in, the look of helplessness was priceless. At this point, cold sweat we have all felt at one time or another had begun to leak out of his pores. "I drank way too much last night. Please SIR!!" He stared at his audience--the entire restaurant--waiting for somebody to help him somehow.

Blendy's became silent. Even the employees stopped filling orders. The whole place was caught in this web of drama...the suspense palpable. I secretly was hoping it would last. Thoughts I never would have pondered in a fast food line entered my mind like, "If I see shit run out of his pant leg, will I throw up?" or "Maybe I should just tell him to use the lady's room."

Finally a welcomed noise entered our ear space--the familiar click of a door unlocking. The kid ran into the hallway and busted into the bathroom even though the patron still had his hand on the knob. This was an elderly gentleman, stricken with curvature of the spine and body odor. He slowly, and I mean sloooowly, walked over to his group of old men friends and said loudly, "He must really have to shit." Well put old man. Well put.

Attack of the Killer Hummus...

or waiter, there's a tooth in my soup

Okay, so the family unit went out Saturday to celebrate Geo's Mum's birthday at a local eatery. We're all sitting around enjoying the hummus n'at appetizer, when the hubby stops, fishes around in his mouth and presents...half of his tooth!?!

What's that about?

It wasn't like he was demonstrating his latest carnie act, you know the one where he bends a huge rod (she said rod) of rebar with his bicuspids to the amazement of enchanted (albeit slightly disturbed) onlookers. At least that would be a cool story. No, sadly he was only chompin' on a piece of pita. "Mmmm. Mighty fine pita." *crack* ... tooth shrapnel.

Are we really so long of tooth that our long teeth are jumping ship?

I suspect so.

My own pearly whites have staged a mutiny this year. Root canal, crowns (plural), sensitivity preventing me from chewing ice cubes anymore. And I do love to chew me some ice cubes. I'm generally having a great time growing older. Mentally, the process is pretty cool. A lot of shite doesn't rattle my cage anymore. Like a fine w(h)ine, I'm mellowing with age. I don't get as crazy in the car, flipping people off is almost non-existent anymore (and I was so good at it, too) and waiting in loooooong lines doesn't honk me off as often. Even many marital misgivings are answered with less rancor. Maybe it's the aging... or maybe it's the Absolut.

Physically--getting older sucks bong water. I can't get out of a chair anymore without a chorus of creaks, cracks and pops. I'm like a freakin' bowl of rice crispies.

But middle-agedom does grant one wish for those of us less-than-endowed dames. Thanks to the the laws of gravity, turns out there is more of one's "attributes" to corral in a brassiere, if you know what I mean. Time provides a delightful development of one's d'ecollatage, at least for a brief amount of time before it all goes horribly, horribly south. A small gift from the Gods for one last gasp of femininity and empowerment.

So don't fear the forties, girlfriends. It's your last chance to dress up the girls.