18 August, 2008

Kids Love It...?

What's Matt doing here?

So we had this dinner party on Saturday night. No big thing- just Jeff and I, Matt and Kandace, and Nic (our designated 5th wheel). Chicken, rice, salad... Attempted corn on the cob... And then some s'mores in our fun new fire pit. Of course, we had a little wine with dinner, and then some peach champagne with dessert, and then more wine ('cos it was there), and then things got a little bit crazy. We took the party indoors and spent a good amount of time taking turns wearing Jeff's (size 12) Heely's in the kitchen.

And then Matt on the heelies...

And did some awesome tricks!

Nic was way too good for only his 2nd time...

It was pretty awesome. But the champagne ran out, and rather than take that as a sign to stop- we dragged ourselves the half-block 'round the corner to pick up more. In the absence of peach, it was strawberry champagne this time, and a bottle of spumante for good measure. Beer for the boys, two bottles of sake, and we stumbled back home.

Somehow we ended up on the floor with champagne...

Now, this subsequent batch of alcohol seemed to last all of ten minutes- so out we went again. I do not recollect what we purchased on the second trip to the store- but I remember the clerk smiling (and probably laughing) quite a bit. Needless to say, I didn't last much longer after this. I remember sitting on the couch saying something to Nic and Kandace (probably semi-incoherent) about Pharrell and Chester French, and then I woke up in the bathtub naked surrounded by barfed-up graham crackers with my head resting on my wadded-up, soaking wet jeans. Yeah. It was gross. The sweetness that is my boyfriend then pulled me out, poured me into jammies and bed, DID A LOAD OF VOMIT LAUNDRY, continued to entertain our guests for a number of hours, and even cleaned up the party. At some point Nic walked himself home (not too far), and Matt and Kandace stayed the night. Now, granted I was unconscious and therefore I hesitate to take much credit- but you KNOW you've had a decent dinner party when it trails into a breakfast the following day. At said breakfast- Matt ordered a miscellaneous chili concoction and it looked so good, that I found it difficult to think of anything else (which is the hallmark of my general food-craving behavior). So yesterday I bought all the necessary ingredients in a wild attempt at making my very own chili from scratch. You can't really screw up chili, right? I mean, you just keep adding things to it until you get it right. And you'd assume that with the amount of soup I consume, I'd be a natural at this chili thing. Turns out, I totally am. My chili is phenomenal. Ever so sliiiiiightly soup-ish, but what else would you expect from me? The PERFECT consistency for the other constant in my life... rice. Today, while enjoying my umpteenth bowl of it, I started thinking about the chili my mom used to make when I was little, and specifically how I could have come to love or even TRY chili after the taste bud scarring trauma that was her "Kids Love It Chili". I'm not joking. That's honestly what my mother called it. "Kids Love It Chili" was the foulest, most unloved chili known to man, or errr... child. Furthermore, it should be noted, that I am an only child. So who the fuck were these "kids"? And how could they "love" it when I could barely STOMACH it?! And then suddenly today, I realized the genius of it.

When my 6 year old asked...
"Mama, what's for dinner?"
and I responded enthusiastically with,
"You know, that chili mommy made yesterday!"
to which she inquired,
"Ugggghhh! Mamaaaaa... Can't we just have reguhluh chili- instead of the one you made?"
Then it occurred to me...
"But it's special Kids Love It Chili!!!"
And this changed everything...
"Well, okaaay..."


Tommorrow night? "Kids Love It Squash".

06 August, 2008

I want to kill someone.

My bathtub is broken.
Today will be the third day I've gone without a shower.
I stink.

This is especially disconcerting for the following reasons:

A. I bathe/shower at least once every day. Sometimes twice. I really like being clean.

B. I'm not a camper. This has much to do with the fact that I am not okay with a lack of bathing.

C. Not bathing is traumatizing for me, as it conjures painful memories of post-hurricane hose baths in my front yard as a 14 year old. NOT a good age to be taking hose-baths in your front yard. Particularly when your front yard is directly adjacent to the island's only highway.

D. I'm really anxious to use my new marshmallow shower gel.

Attempts made to fix tub as of 2:10 PM today:

A. Zep Enzyme Bacterium powder. Came highly recommended. Did nothing.

B. DranO Max Gel. This hideous and potentially fatal chemical compound did absolutely NOTHING. I feel gypped, robbed of $5.95, and environmentally retarded.

C. Plunging to within an inch of my life.

D. Taking apart the overflow system and fishing through the pipes from two directions with a wire coat hanger. This may have been the low point in the process.

E. And lastly... Much internet research, including but not limited to watching countless youtubers unclog their own drains with mocking ease and using:

The "Zipit"

The "FlexiSnake"

Andre the Giant's tweezers

And semi-pornographic plunging

I'm as yet undecided as to which of these videos was most disturbing. Actually, it was probably one of the D.I.Y. tutorials, or how-to cable-access-ish handyman spots. It was especially awesome when the bald guy bent his head down to prove that the hair in the drain certainly didn't come from HIM.


Next stop? Pacific Coast Home & Garden for any/all of the above referenced youtube solutions. And if those don't work? I'm going to hang myself from said wire coat hanger.
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