Friday Night Lights (Out)

Holy Crap.........what a weekend. I better break this thing down in chunks. Starting at the beginning is usually best. Friday. It started for me at 4 am. You see, dear readers, a "location scout" was coming to my house at 12:30 because he had seen some photos on a modern blog and was interested in shooting a commercial in my damn kitchen. I told you guys my stove is a sexy bitch. So after frantically cleaning for 8 hours, I had to remove Demon Dog from the premises (call me crazy but I think Grady's "enthusiastic" presence would have been a deal breaker) and so headed over to a friends house, pooch in tow. Because it was a nice day, we were sitting on her back patio watching Grady play with her yellow Lab. Sitting, sitting, chatting........HOLY SHIT......Grady hopped over the retaining wall and is tearing down the 4th fairway of our golf course. Thankfully there were some quick thinking golfers out who collared the little bastard. Pop the leash on him and he literally almost pulled ME over the retaining wall on the way back down. Needless to say, we moved the dog party inside. Anyway, at some point in the afternoon it was determined that the neighborhood girls needed a night out. Oh God. Dave was playing at a dive bar that evening. The very same bar where I met "Nick the Ex-Con Jailhouse Tattoo Artist". Perfect. Um, for those of you that have said I need a camera crew following me around? This would have been a keeper. You've got a bar teeming with people who had never, ever seen the likes of us. Dave said the look on the faces of these regulars was either shock, awe or both. We were drinkin' and dancing and mingling with the locals. One of us went careening across the dance floor resulting in what was described as "the world's longest fall". And it wasn't me!!!!! I was too busy struggling to keep my eyes open as being up cleaning at 4 am and then partying it up are not a wakey combination. At some point, we became acquainted with a person called "Cletus". One of my friends is a bit of fashionista. Although I'm sure that these folks would have considered us all to be such. Everything is relative. She decided it was her mission to give Cletus a makeover and started giving him advice. Braces, a haircut, pull your damn pants up, etc. Strangely, it was well received as Cletus declared her a "nice lady". We also met a couple that we assumed were married. Oh, they are, just not to each other. Errr.....okay! Didn't give them any advice as they seem to have it handled. Anyway, Dave said that the last thing the owner said as he was getting ready to leave was, "Make sure you bring them back next time". Maybe we can be like Snookie from Jersey Shore and get paid to make appearances at clubs. Or dive bars as the case may be. Call me. We'll tear it up. 

Bloody Cut Somebody

I'm getting a little off track because I was supposed to finish regaling you with tales of my misadventures yesterday. My brain, as you may have gathered by now, is a little bit of a twisted place. It has a tendency to meander. I was thinking about how when I left off, Grady had returned home from the dog park with a cut on his damn head. This reminded me of my nephew referring to an injury as a "bloody cut". He was pretty little at the time and I remember him coming in wide-eyed, holding out his finger and announcing "I've got a bloody cut". I think that's kind of an oxymoron but it was pretty funny nevertheless. This caused me to think about another funny story involving my nephew, my dog Coal and my parents house. If you've been reading for awhile, you are aware that my mother is a bit of a clean-freak. Not strangely so but momma runs a tight ship. That's probably where I get it from. Bwahaha......NOT. I run more of an "under the Big Top free-for-all". Complete with monkeys and elephants. And clowns are a given. Not the scary kind. The drunken kind. Anyway, I believe our dogs have been tolerated at my parent's house only because my parents are not stupid and know that "no dogs allowed" are fightin' words. It's amazing what grandparents will put up with to see their grandchildren. Ahhhh, I love my little pawn....er.....Jack. *I'm JOKING, Mom.....don't get your knickers in a twist.* So, as I was saying the dog thing has been grudgingly tolerated. With Coal it was mainly the dog hair and lake stink. He wasn't destructive. I wouldn't even think of bringing Grady to their house until he straightens out. I'm envisioning a piano with three legs and things on fire. And more bloody cuts than you can swing a cat at. Anyway, flashback to a couple of spring breaks ago. We were at my parents house with Jack and our Lab Coal. My brother and his family were also there with their two Goldens. Three boys, three dogs and 6 adults. Kind of a zoo but a good time nevertheless. On the day before we were heading home, I went downstairs to find Dave and my sister-in-law frantically scurrying around the family room. When asked what they were doing, they whispered (wide-eyed), "picking up dog poop". Oh God. If my parents found out about THIS they would FREAK. Apparently, Dave walked downstairs and my nephew was wandering around saying, "SOMEBODY......SOMEBODY......THERE IS DOG POOP IN THE HOUSE....." and thankfully Dave was the first one he found. There was poop everywhere. It was like an Easter egg hunt, only with dog shit. I found one in the bed of a toy dump truck. Score! The worst part of the whole sorry tale is that I was POSITIVE that it could not have POSSIBLY been my well-behaved and beloved dog and placed the blame squarely on the fluffy blonde shoulders of the Goldens. That was until we got home and Coalie's slow decline became evident and he began pooping in OUR house. The Golden's were framed. SOMEBODY......SOMEBODY.......

WTF's For Dinner?

In this weeks installment of What the $%&*'s for dinner, we have MEXICAN LASAGNA. Uh.....Mexican Las-YUM-ya!  Here you go:

Mexican Lasagna

1 lb ground beef

1 16 oz can refried beans

2 t dried oregeno

1 t garlic powder

12 uncooked lasagna noodles

2 c water

2 1/2 c picante sauce

2 c sour cream

1 1/2 c shredded Monterey Jack cheese

1/2 c shredded cheddar cheese

Preheat oven to 350. Brown ground beef. Drain. Combine beef, beans and spices. Place 4 uncooked noodles in bottom of a 9x13" pan. Spread half of beef mixture over noodles. Top with 4 noodles. Spread with remaining mixture and top with remaining noodles. In a medium bowl, mix water and picante sauce. Pour evenly over layers. Cover tightly with foil. Bake 1 1/2 hours in the preheated oven, or until noodles are tender. Spoon sour cream over lasagna and top with cheese. Bake uncovered until cheese melts, about 5-10 minutes.

Enjoy......gotta bounce......off to create "folk art" with fourth graders. There will be drinking tonight, rest assured. 

Big Gulp

Holy crap, I forgot to post yesterday. Now THERE'S something you don't see too often. I'm not surprised as the day started out at like 4 am with me wide awake in bed and freaking out about everything I had to do. So instead of freaking out horizontally, I decided to get vertical. As I've said before, it's amazing what you can accomplish when the rest of the house is sleeping. Alas, they eventually woke up and the morning mayhem ensued. Gave the boy clothes, Dave got him breakfast, I packed his (delicious and nutritious) lunch and went downstairs to check email. Hear screaming. "OH MY GOD GRADY HAS TWO SOCKS!!!!!" Fuck. Dave is nowhere in sight. Doesn't take long to figure out where he is. Nothin' like a nice 45 minute poop during the busiest time of the day. I'm running. Jack's running. Grady's running. Grab a bag of pepperoni thinking that tasty processed meat will do the trick. Wave it in his direction. Oh, it works. Before I can grab his little snout, he looks at me and in ONE GULP swallows both socks. Whole. Fucker. If I didn't see it with my own eyes, I wouldn't believe it. He's like a freaking snake. Obviously he didn't get the pepperoni. Jack did. Good boy, Jack. So, Dave eventually emerges from his man cave. It is determined that part of the trouble with Grady is that he needs to get more ya ya's out. We decided that BOTH of us will take Jack to school and then proceed to take Grady to a dog park. Get half-way to school and Jack announces that he's left his violin at home. Don't get too excited. He's not a prodigy. He and his buddies realized that you get out of class if you take orchestra. Orchestra is powerful popular this year. Anyway, can't turn around 'cause he'll be tardy. Drop him off, go home, get damn violin, realize this minor glitch has thrown my schedule completely out of whack so Dave proceeds back to school with forgotten instrument and then to dog park. Grady, faced with freedom, decides that he is going to sit within two feet of Dave and not move. Sure, you'll eat a metal down spout but other dogs? Not so much. Eventually he warmed up to the idea and started going nuts. So nuts that he ran face first into a tree, cutting his head in the process. The good news is that either the exercise or the head injury did the trick. Grady wasn't much trouble for the rest of the day. My day, however, was just getting started. More on that later. Oh, and yes, you're getting your WTF's For Dinner today. Mexican Lasagna. Good shit. Stay tuned. 

Not Very Relaxing

I am pretty sure that walking your dog should not be embarrassing. I HAD to walk Grady today. In one of those, "be careful what you wish for moments", Dave is actually spending more time at his new office (word up, Live Urban Real Estate in Denver....contact Dave Christie for all of your real estatin' needs) which means that I have to walk the freakin' dog. Didn't think of that when I was laying down the "GET OUT OF THE DAMN HOUSE" edict. My walk is normally the most relaxing point of my day. I listen to music, chill out, collect myself and my thoughts.......you get the picture. Now picture this: attempting to remain upright while doing the same dance a deep sea fisherman does while reeling in a marlin. Or better yet, a swordfish. They seem pretty angry. He literally was off the ground for the better part of the first half of the walk. When you're thinking you're going to end up in traction from walking your dog, you've got trouble. With a capital T. Or "G" as the case may be. You suck, letter G. I was also thinking, "For the love of God and all things holy, PLEASE do not let anyone I know see me with this dog". Yeah, good luck with that......first of all, I know pretty much everybody in this 'hood (or worse yet.....they know me) and secondly, Grady is about as subtle as a heart attack. He may as well have a neon sign attached to him that says, "I am the worst dog EVER.....look at meeeeeee!!!!!!" I'm surprised the local news wasn't called. "Morrison woman dragged through neighborhood by rabid 60 lb Lab puppy.......we'll have updates on her condition as they become available but witnesses say it did not look good". At one point he did seem to chill a bit, only to decide to snack on some goose poop and what I genuinely hope was an empty pack of menthol cigarettes. Hopefully the menthol did something for his breath. He also started body checking me. I'm really not sure what that was all about but I was pretty much in tears at that point so I just shoved him back. Shit lotta good that did. So if you saw me out walking today (and if you live here, odds are you did), and I looked particularly dejected, it's because I was. Grady had a great time. He even found a large piece of what looked like dog poop as we approached our driveway. What made is especially great is that he dropped some of it in the foyer when we got in. I went straight to the computer to vent so I'm not sure if it's still there. It's probably not as Grady has never met a piece of poop he hasn't liked. Good times. 

Biography

So, Jack has a big "Biography" project "he's" been working on. I say "he" because at the age of ten, it's really "we". And of course here at Christieco, we are masters in the art of procrastination. There was a bit of panic this morning as Dave produced the sheet detailing the requirements and scale of this project. We did the rough draft, which largely involved Jack dictating facts about Walt Disney to me as I typed them. Next up is revising the report, which should be no biggie. There is however, a visual project and a speech involved as well. The speech is not a thing as Jack is a natural. No fear. The "project" however, is problematic. I said on facebook this morning that every time a visual aid comes into play, I die a little inside. Jack doesn't go for the obvious choices such as, "draw a picture". NOOOOO. He goes for "diorama" or "replica". I've avoided naysaying up to this point but the time has come to crush his little spirit. Ambition really IS for suckas. And I'M the sucka that usually ends up creating these visuals. I'm not a competitive parent. I don't really give a shit whose visual is the best. I just know that if I don't do it it won't get done. Jack is the type of kid that needs to concentrate on the basics, like the report. School does not come easily to him. And to his credit, HE is the one that comes up with these elaborate schemes. I, however, am the one that has to implement them. For instance, the last book report he did was from that "Goosebumps" series. He wanted to do an underwater diorama. I'm feeling light-headed just thinking about that one. You don't even want to know. It was apparently quite well received, so I've got that going for me. I'd be an excellent fourth grader. My heart nearly dropped out of my ass this morning when I heard the plan he's hatched for the Disney deal. Something about replicating "Tomorrow Land". First of all, "Tomorrow Land" Tomorrow Sucks. I don't if Jack recalls but the last time we were there we became trapped in the "Carousel of Progress". We didn't make much progress. At all. For like 20 minutes. That'll drive you to drink. Oh, and it did. It drove me right back to The  Wilderness Lodge's poolside bar. Secondly, I hope I was hearing things but I could have sworn he was thinking of making this replica out of toothpicks. TOOTHPICKS? Fine. Just set the toothpicks, the glue and the bottle of tequila out on the table and run along and play. Mommy will call you when she's done. With the tequila. Did I say that out loud? Hello, everybody! Hic! I can just see myself covered in glue and toothpicks but with a rather happy disposition. That's the way I roll from now on. Oh wait......what's that you say? That's how I roll anyway? Fine. That's how I'll continue to roll. Stupid projects.

Close Shave

http://www.youtube.com/watch?v=80v5Wueed10

Watch the video. Then come back. You watched it? Good. Okay, either this is freakin' brilliant or it is one of the worst ads ever made. If it's tongue in cheek, I want to be best friends with whoever came up with it. However Dave insists that it's totally serious as he can't see Barbasol having some cutting edge advertising agency. And if he's right, there's just SO much wrong here........let's see......where to begin? 

--First of all, we've got the guy cruising along in his big-rig to a jaunty little tune. By the time he runs his hand through his stubble, it's very apparent that this is one very hairy and very bad actor. Conversely, if this is a spoof, he should win whatever the ad equivalent of an Oscar is as it's a worthy performance. You'd have to be really good to be that bad. 

--He gets home from his hemorrhoid inducing trip across America. His lady leaves him a note next to a can of Barbosol! "Welcome home, handsome!" I personally would have added, "You big, hairy beast" but that's just me. So  he reads the note. But first he's got to do some serious shaving before he gets all up in that. Question: How does he know she didn't have something else entirely in mind when she left out that can of shaving cream? He's been on the road awhile. Mommy might be feeling REALLY frisky. And experimental.

--So he's shaving. I'm sure it took awhile. I will hand it to the guy......he can grow a beard. So he's got that going for him. The acting thing, not so much. Perhaps there's a market for beard models. That's the direction I would point him in if I was his agent. Anyway, he finishes shaving and the look he gives himself is priceless. He may as well give himself the double thumbs up or the "You the MAN" trigger finger thing. 

--May I point out that the whole time, there is a really bad jingle playing? The same one he was driving along to? "America, you're looking good.....you're handsome, brave and tall". HUH???? WTF??? What about the Americans that are homely, nervous and short? They need to shave too, I would think. This is just going to make them feel inadequate. Worst lyrics ever. Just ridiculous. So ridiculous that we've been singing them over and over at Casa de Christie. Method behind madness? Marketing genius at work?

--Okay, so our formerly hirsute friend, suitably clean shaven, is going in for the kill. He walks into the room where his woman awaits, wearing HIS SHIRT??? Okay. Whatever. Nothing is as fucked up as what comes next.....she's lighting candles next to A STACK OF PANCAKES. That's right. Pancakes. 'Cause nothin' says "good lovin'" like a stack of flapjacks. Oh, and there's orange juice. Now, I am clearly no trucker. I may have a mouth like one, but I've never been behind the wheel of anything larger than a Ford Expedition. I have, however, driven cross-country on far too many occasions to count. With a dog and a child. We've had some good 12 hour driving days. I can tell you this.......when I get out of that car, I DO NOT WANT PANCAKES. I WANT BOOZE. FROM AN IV DRIP. AND LOTS OF IT. Pancakes????

So there you go......brilliant or simply brilliantly bad? I'm still not sure. Pancakes? It's so fucked up that it's GOT to be a joke. But then I think about the actor......God......I don't know, I don't know, I don't know. And I'm usually so decisive. This has me over a barrel. Or a big-rig as the case may be. America, you're lookin' good......la, la, la........