A Vietnamese Adventure

You know what I hate? When someone is wrapping up a phone conversation, and then they say, "Okay, uh-huh, we'll talk to you later."

We? WE will talk to you later? I mean, this is perfectly understandable if there are multiple people on the phone--or even in the same ROOM-- all talking to someone at the same time, but when it's just Mano-a-Mano.... well, it sounds ridiculous. Like if I'm just sitting in the same room, minding my own business and in no way at all taking part in the conversing going on with the other person in the room, that person SHOULD NOT include me in the promise to talk again tomorrow. Because if I'm not partaking in the conversation right now, what makes you think I will be LATER?

Anyway, this in not why I started this entry.

Why then, did I? you ask.

Well, to impart the tragic (and somewhat smelly) expedition that my Uncle, my Aunt, and I took to a Vietnamese restaurant. (The only element missing is a Priest, and we would have ourselves a terrifically offensive stand-up-comedy joke.)

Here's how it all started....... (queue flashback music)

Instead of going out to the usual Thia place we frequent during my summer visits, my Uncle suggested we try this Vietnamese place right next to the hardware store he goes to. (This was our first mistake... Why we would ever think that a restaurant right next to a hardware store would be delicious, I do not know. For example, after you pick up that snake you need at the hardware store, you can stop next door and have a quick bite to eat before you have to go home and unclog the pipes of your plumbing system. Not exactly appetizing.) But we DID think it would be delicious, and we figured we would try something new.... So we went.

Looking back at the evening, I call to mind a conversation we had before ordering. It went like this:

Me: Wow, look! They have a whole page dedicated to vegetarian food. (I am a vegetarian, if you didn't catch that.) Hmm, there are so many choices... I'm not used to this plethora of options....I don't really know what to order.
Aunty: Well what looks good?
Me: I don't know. I don't know that much about Vietnamese food...
Aunty: Well you'll find out, won't you?........ (ominous swell in music, followed by an undercurrent of agitated orchestral humming.)

Little did we know that this comment would prove so prophetic. But this is a piece of literary work, so I suppose I'll just call it foreshadowing.

From here we ordered a couple of different appetizers, thinking we'd start out small and see if the food would prove to be good. You can often tell by an appetizer the quality of the food you will be ordering.

But in this case, we had the wool pulled over our eyes. Because the first course was delicious.

It wasn't until the main meals started to arrive that we realized what a huge mistake we had made.

I should start our by telling you what everyone ordered. I ordered some obscure fried noodle dish off of the vegetarian menu, something that I have no hope of ever pronouncing correctly. My Uncle ordered the curry chicken. And Aunty, after some debate, decided on the lemon chicken.

We should have know what we were getting into when the pork salad showed up at our table.

The waitress (a pretty, if not a little clueless and negligent, girl in her late teens) plopped a giant bowl with shriveled lumps all over the top of it and a small dish of fish-sauce in the middle of our table, and proclaimed, "Who had the pork salad?"

We all stared at it for a minute, lost for words. She asked again, "The pork salad? Hello? Anybody?"

We all quickly denied any association with this pork dish, Aunty and I both going so far as to deny all consumption of pork products in our daily lives. The waitress, looking confused, pulled out her note pad, and told us that she had definitely written down that someone had ordered the pork salad.

We shrugged. By looking around the place, we could tell that the waitress hadn't mixed up our order with another table... We were the only customers in the whole place. Disowning the order, we shrugged again, and she took it away, looking upset. But she did leave the little dish of fish-sauce, sitting right in front of me, stinking up the place.

Despite this, soon the other main dishes (the ones we had actually ordered) arrived, and everyone had a meal in front of them...except for Aunty. She insisted we start without her, ignoring our protests. So my Uncle and I dug in.

If your expecting me to tell you about how I took one bite of my meal, then immediately spit it out all over the table through me nose... Well, you're going to be disappointed. Because my food wasn't that bad. The only unsavory part about it was the tofu that came with it, which I had not been expecting when I ordered it. (If I had known it came with tofu, I probably would have ordered something else; I hate tofu, despite the popular belief that all vegetarians like to eat "tofu and shit." I would strooooonnngly oppose this ignorant statement.) And My Uncle claimed that his curry chicken was alright (But he would later recant this statement in favor of a more comedic anecdote about the pathetically mediocre curry chicken he had wasted his money on).

No, the real fun began when Aunty's dinner showed up.

Everything looked fine, we all had a plate full of what seemed to be delicious food before us. And then the smell hit. And boy, did it hit HARD.

We sniffed in horror, but with each whiff we cringed and gagged... Well, not quite. We were to polite to do that. But inside, that's what we were doing.

What did it smell like? Well, if I'm being perfectly honest.... smelly chick crotch.

At least according to my Aunt, who has always been eloquent with words.

But, man, did she really hit the head on the nail with this one. You know those people, those women, who don't shower for days on end, and they wear the same pair of pants for WEEKS without washing them... You know the odor that emanates from them whenever they walk past you or sit next to you on the bus and don't bother crossing their legs...

Well... there you go. It smelled exactly like that.

No, I'm not even kidding. I wish I was, but I'm not. My Uncle took one bite of it, and then proclaimed, "It tastes like it smells."

Ewwwwww! Gross!

After that, things went down hill, as I'm sure you can imagine. My Uncle wouldn't stop cracking crotch jokes, My Aunt kept telling him to shut up or the waitress would hear him, and I couldn't stop laughing. (What can I say? I have a weakness for crotch jokes, I guess. I mean, he kept saying, "Lemon-grass chicken? More like Lemon-ass chicken..." I mean, what's a girl to do?)

Do you remember that dish of fish-sauce I mentioned earlier? The one that got left behind? Yeah, well it didn't help our case of the giggles when, while reaching for the soy sauce my Uncle spilled that dish all over the table and onto his lap.

Now, in addition to the crotch chicken smell that was already permeating our nostrils, the table smelled like fish. Quite pungently.

We were officially the fish-crotch table.

Eventually we had to move the dreaded plate of chicken to another table because it kept wafting over to my nose right as I would take a bite of my food. And we managed to wipe up the fish-sauce, even though the odor lingered. Needless to say, Aunty went hungry, because she refused to even try her food. She spent the rest of the meal texting the rest of our family about the smelly crotch chicken, while I giggled, and my Uncle complained a little too loudly about the service and finally excused himself to wash the fish-smell off of his hands. It was a good time.

Don't get me wrong... We aren't bigots about ethnic food. In fact, I LOVE trying different kinds of foods from all kinds of different cultures. So does my Aunt and Uncle. Really, we are a few of the most open-minded people in our family.

But something was wrong with that food. I don't know if the cook was mad that he had to waste a perfectly good pork salad, or if the waitress gave him attitude, or if he was just having a really REALLY bad day..... but we suspected dirty play.

Needless to say, we won't be going back there any time soon. And they didn't even give my Aunt a free meal like they said they were going to, due to the pork salad mix-up.

Man, sometimes life's a bummer.

Observation of the Day:
It's disturbing how many commercials have pigs in them.

Anyway, if this little story wasn't enough to make you chuckle, then I guess all I can say is that you kind of had to be there.

Here are a few videos in honor of the mysterious Pork Salad. Who ordered it? Was it just a mix up, or was it something more... sinister. And will one of the unsuspecting pigs in these commercials someday be made into a salad?


Summer Resolutions

Every Summer I make a Bucket List.

Most of the time, only half of it is completed.

For example, every summer I vow to learn guitar. And every summer I pick up a guitar periodically, learn a few new chords, MAYBE attempted a few agility excersises, and then put it down again... for several months. This usually has to do with the fact that I hate cutting my finger nails, and I never have the patience to make calluses form on my fingers (thus the chords I CAN play sound more like a cat caught in a meat grinder....). And I never learn how to play well, like I would like to.

Another resolution on my bucket list that never is accomplished is excersising. Because once the summer roles around, I might like being outdoors, but I don't like doing physical activity outdoors, due to the extremely hot temperatures. So another item on my bucket list is left unchecked.

Every summer I say that I am going to take lessons, whether they be musical (voice, flute, piano, guitar, harmonica, etc.), or something completely different (Karate, kick boxing, motorcycle safety (HA! I wish!), salsa dancing, etc). And these lessons never take place, for a few reasons...
a) I am, and live with, the ultimate percrastinators, and
b) Oh, yeah. I'm broke. No money. Isn't that funny? How am I going to pay for (rather expensive, I might add) lessons, when all I have is a nickel to my name? Maybe with my beautific smile? Doubt it. And,
c) I am usually too busy (getting a job, due to my lack of funding, perhaps?) to make time for a weekly lesson. Or three.

Do you see how easy it is for a summer to slip by? And already it's the end of July (that's right; JULY!!!), and August is quickly approaching. And what do I have to show for this summer?

Well, a few extra pounds, if I'm being honest.

Why is it so easy to waste a summer? Can you tell me that? WHY?

This is my dilemma, and my teen angst. Here is a video that I laughed at.

The National American University obviously doesn't offer all that great of a music program.

The Observation of the Day:
Why is it that a girl feels so much more bad ass when she's wearing motorcycle boots? I mean, even if her mother wouldn't allow her to so much as LOOK at a motorcycle, let alone ride one, or--God forbid--OWN one, the attire worn by motorcyclists is extremely... well, cool.

Thanks for reading. Assuming anyone is.


Things That Go Together.

While driving down a highway in the Wisconsin Dells in the early afternoon, we stumbled upon this billboard:

I'm looking at the one on the left.


..... Hm.

What do you even SAY to something like that?

Oh, I know:

"An adult novelties store and BAKERY! WTF?"

So of course this leads the imagination into some interesting wonderlands.... Questions like, "What kind of baked goods do you think they sell there?" and "I wonder if they sell different kinds of pasties..."

If any of you are wondering what the difference is, I think these pictures might clarify things for you.

The Food.

NOT the food...
 I, um, think you get the idea. And sorry if any of those pictures make you uncomfortable. Personally, the first one really got to me, too.

Anyway, you could see how both of those could be sold in an "Adults Novelties and Bakery Store."

Only in Wisconsin, huh? Geez, they have everything.

The Observation of the Day:

What possible reason would a banana have for commiting suicide?
If he just waits another day or two, he'll be eaten anyway.

And Here's a video, too!

It's almost annoying, but I think it's funny...



It's just delicious when summer roles around and you can set yourself to the task of doing absolutely nothing.

Take today, for instance. Would you like to read today's schedule?

1:00 am - Go to sleep after watching countless hours of daytime television from the first decade of this millennium.
9:36 am - Wake up rudely to a knocking at my door, and the demand from Crabby Jan for advice about two different tops she's thinking about wearing, but which she maybe shouldn't wear for her age, and definitely should not wear without a bra.
9:41 am - Roll over and go back to sleep.
11:56 am - Roll over. Try to ignore my bladder. My bladder keeps whining about its special and incessant needs. Throw the blanket off and waddle to the bathroom like a beached whale, making the same sort of noises on my way that a beached whale would possibly make if it were trying to mate... with a Bangladesh Tiger.
12:13 pm - Pop an English muffin in the toaster. Our toaster sucks. When the muffin pops, I push it down again. A third time. I put jam on it. Then eat it.
12:27 pm - 10:29 pm - Watch television on www.hulu.com from 2003. Television keeps declining in interesting content value, don't you think? I sure do. In between there I take time to raid and pillage our fridge

Oh NOOO!!! They've come to devour our wives and daughters!
and to find an appropriate screen saver for my computer, because I'm just tired at staring at Vladmir Putin's roguish face every time I log on.

My original screen saver...
After shuffling through many pictures (and replacing my Mom's screen saver with the one of Jensen Ackles on the impala from Supernatural that I had on my last blog entry), I had a few contenders for my new screen saver....

#1: A picture of a recently-mugged piggy bank to remind me of all of the money that I DON'T have
#2: A realistic representation of my life these days.
#3: So THAT'S where my shoes got to...
#4: I just like this one... Do you ever feel like putting your phone in a blender so that people will stop calling you? No? Oh. Just me, then.
#5: It's kind of like the French Revolution of Laundromats. And it also reminds me that I have a whole lot of laundry to do.
#6: See, I should be grateful for having a nice, functional piano in my living room and not a broken one way out in Scotland somewhere... Some kids aren't as fortunate. Maybe I should go write a song on the piano instead of look at this one on my computer screen, because some kids have NEITHER.
#7: It reminds me of good ol' England. Just kidding. I think it's kind of cute though... and depressing. Which is why I didn't pick this one for my screen saver.
#8: At least it's something interesting to look at...
#9: And so is this. Mmmmm. But it's a little bit racy for my tastes... I think the best part of this one (well, besides the OBVIOUS part) is what my mother would say if she walked past the computer and saw THIS pulled up on my screen. Imagine the look on her face. Or YOUR mother's face. Go ahead. Do it. Funny, isn't it?
#10: Where's Alexander Skarsgard? While this one is far less risque, it has a quality of "Where's Waldo?" to it.
So what am I left with? Nothing really. Sigh. I'll just go back to watching post-90's prime-time TV.

My Observation of the Day:
The Miss Universe competitions? A total rip-off. If it was truly a "Universe" contest, then they would be kind enough to invite the Martians to join in. Don't you think?

And if this is what it's like to be a "Fluorescent Adolescent," then I'm glad I'm neither radioactive, nor a light bulb.

That's all Folks.


It's Raining, It's Pouring...

It's raining, it's pouring,
Sitting in my basement is BORING.
I went to bed, I hope my head
Doesn't get wet from the roof being torn off of our house by a tornado...

Ha ha. Just Kidding. I hope.

So it's been a while since I"ve blogged, and I get that. So please, PLEASE, go easy on me.

If you haven't guessed by my twisted nursery rhyme at the top of the page, we are having a major blow out here in good old (insert-home-town-here). So, the first thing that comes to mind is madness. Obviously.

Ouuch, My Back....
You see, my mom and I are pretty laid back about storms. But my Grandmother (A.K.A. Crabby Jan) is simply a nervous wreck any time there is so much as a light misting. I don't know if it's because she's older and the weather affects her more, but if that's the case, then it affects her in quite a different way besides the usual achy joints.

HERE is the STORY:

About 10:00 pm this evening, I was rudely interrupted from my usual late night routine of watching crappy day-time television all night on www.hulu.com by a faint, far-away buzzing sound. So I carefully took the head phones from my noggin and caught the end of a frantic call from the top of the stairs... 

"...ows on your CAR rolled up???" said Crabby Jan.

In my inner eye I could see my beautiful, brand new (to me, anyway) harvest gold '77 Chevy Impala, whose name happens to be Deano. He looks kind of like this...

Like this...
OR, haha, Like this. (This is actually a '60)

Or I WISH like this, with the man on the car included...
But in all actuality looks more like this...

Anyway, that was a major tangent. Sorry about that. Where was I? Oh yes...

Crabby Jan had just yelled down that Deano's windows had better be up, because it was supposed to hail. So I assured her that yes, his window's were up and everything should be good to go...

And I went back to watching my hilariously stupid episode of MTV's Teen Wolf. (Do you agree with me? Stupid, Huh? Not only does it manage to rip off the name of another stupid (but immensely more entertaining, because it has Micheal J. Fox in it) film project, but it manages to take something as potentially entertaining as a werewolf hiding amongst us high school students, and turn it into a petty little angst-ridden power play to be popular. Typical.)

But not ten minutes later, and that droning buzzing noise comes back. I tear off my head phones and catch something along the lines of...

"...oming down, TAKE THE FLASHLIGHTS!!"

The melt-down has begun.

I climb out of my perfectly situated chair and scurry up the stairs to grab the extra flashlights and battery-operated radios from her arms, while she is right behind me, shoeing one of the dogs down the stairs while turning on every possible light conceivable on her way down. Naturally my mother is sleeping down here, and all of the light that has suddenly manifested itself rouses her from her deep slumber. She mumbles something to the effect of, "What the hell is going on?" while at the same time Crabby Jan it tittering about going back upstairs to retrieve her dithering pomeranian, Baby (A.K.A. Yappymodo).

I take in a deep breath. Exhale. A ghostly wail of, "BABY!! Get back here RIGHT NOW!" drifts to me from the upper level. I better do that again.

My mom mumbles something again to the effect of, "Would you go help her corral the monster so that I can get back to sleep? I have to work earrrrly in the morning, remember? Oh, and on your way, could you turn the lights off? I think it's compromising our lighting system."

Yes. That is exactly what she said. While half-asleep. I know, I can't believe that either. I mean, damn.

Anyway, I run up the stairs, grab my Kindle (I had just bought a book; there was no way I was going to let it get sucked up by a greedy tornado. If the tornado wants to read the book, it will just have to buy its own gollydarn copy. Geesh.) After that is taken care of, I think about running to my room to grab the Chinese Laundry boots that are stashed in the back of my closet for the summer, but decide against it when I hear another admonition of the furry demon I call Yappymodo. I trudge into the living room to find Yappymodo trapped under a coffee table by Crabby Jan, and I proverbally roll my eyes.

Not really wanting to get involved in the situation (mostly because I don't want to touch the furry thing), I asked as tentatively as possible, "Do you need help over there?"

Crabby Jan says, "No. But the cat got out. I think he's hiding somewhere under my bed..."


Now we'll never find him.

I figure that if a tornado comes and tears our roof off, the cat can just fend for himself. And also the basement door will be cracked, you know, just in case....

Finally, FINALLY, we are all downstairs, safe and sound (minus the cat). I can finally breath. Right?


Because once everyone is downstairs, it takes everyone about three hours to settle in. And the tornado warning is only for about an hour. Ha. I love my life.

So Crabby Jan tells Yappymodo that he BETTER NOT GO POTTY down here, since it's my mom's living space, and Yappymodo precedes to lift his leg on some sort of box, which he gets yelled at and swatted on the ass for by Crabby Jan, and then the other dog starts to wine and pace, because he can't stand thunder, and he almost knocks Crabby Jan and Yappymodo down into the pile of dog pee that was just created on the floor...

Oh, is that an ulcer I feel? Or just indigestion?

It would be pointless to go into more detail, so I'll just leave it at that. And I'll also say that the storm passed, and everyone went back to their respective spaces, and instead of finishing up that butt-gripping episode of Teen Wolf, I decided to write this instead.

Observation of the Day:
Is it me, or does there seem to be an awful lot of sex offenders in the state of Arkansas. Almost every person I've met or heard about from Arkansas has been molested as a child. Hm. Just some food for thought.

I will now leave you with this pointless, but oh-so-cute-I'm-just-gonna-sigh-my-HEART-out, video. Enjoy!



Holes in my Umbrella

This is my first post.

So, hello. And, may I say, what a wonderful person you are, for stopping by to read this blog. In the time we will spend together, you will learn many things that you did not know. Or, more likely, you will learn several things that you already knew, and I will just be reiterating them for you from my unique perspective that is voice.

There are some things that you should know about me.

1) I am a comma-happy freak when writing. I tend to create such long sentences, with so many commas, semi-colons, and ellipses that you're head will start to spin, you will become confused and might start skipping lines, and when you direct your attention to the flight attendant at the front of the room, she will instruct you to put your head between your knees and take deep even breaths; she will direct you, if you feel the need to up-chuck to the paper bags to your right, or the bathroom down the hall to your left.

2) I only write about stuff that I find worth noting. I won't sit on this blog and babble about my perfect life (or even my terrible, emotional, melodramatic one), or my bitchy friends (not that I have any...), or my cute baby. YUCK! You don't want to read all that crap, and I certainly don't want to write it. But, alas, we are all human (except for the aliens that secretly inhabit the earth and try to impersonate us, of course), and we all make mistakes. So, if you find that my ranting starts to become a little too...verbose... then, please, for all of our sakes: TELL ME TO SHUT UP.

(When I instruct you to tell me to zip it, I only mean if I start babbling about stupid, inconsequential stuff. If I'm in the middle of a rant about how republicans hate eating green vegetables, and want America to become so obese that they won't even move out of their over-stuffed lazy-boy chairs to take a dump, then please, don't cut me off with your disinterest. If you are uninterested, then feel free to leave. Please.)

3) I don't really have any filter system... so sorry if I offend you. Especially if you're a republican.

Anyway, I'm done with that. As this blog progresses, you will get to know me and my tendencies more. Each of my posts will be about the things in my life, or my thoughts or opinions on certain things pertaining to this life, that have fallen through the holes in my umbrella. And really, an umbrella is no good when it doesn't shield you from the brain storm.

That said, sometimes I feel like my life would make a really good soap opera. But everyone thinks that at some point of another, I suppose.

This is an experiment. We'll see how it goes.

Dobbiamo essere amici riunificata, e lasciate amanti croce sentieri nuovamente. Se รจ destinata ad essere, sia.
Addio, e voi tutti conservate natica lontano dalle fiamme.

(Uh, don't translate that. It comes out pretty weird...)


Here's a little something to make you smile. Yes, even you.