I’d like to take this opportunity to thank you all for helping me in my quest to get rid of my holiday fat. After reading this, I will never eat again.
Susan
The local Rennisance Festival serves scotch eggs. They are nasty, usually over-cooked and dry (blech), so apparently I have never had a good one. Next time I am in a Irish/Scottish style pub I will see if they serve them and try them again.
Mmmm… stout. Muddy Mo from the 75th St. Brewery in Kansas City is devine, but Guiness will do in a pinch. They also serve yummy fish-n-chips.
I’m going home early because there is an ice storm a’coming. Ice storms suck. I’d much rather have a good snowstorm. Power doesn’t usually go out during a snow storm, but it nearly always goes out in an ice storm.
I’m off!
The Faerie
I’ve not had 75th St. beers but another KC brewer, Boulevard Brewing Company, makes the delicious Bully! Porter, which is my current house beer.
Oh, swampy, the feelin’ is still mutual. 
If you keep up like this, I won’t be able to read the MMP at work for the ROFLing. 
I had a quiet NYE; I didn’t do anything. In fact, I did so little the whole weekend that I am exhausted and dragging this week. I should have gone to bed earlier.
glah glah glah glah omigawd omigawd omigawd blurgle urgle blurgle blurgle urg! Spare us dear lord from the moisture falling from the sky! I will sacrifice to you by driving like a complete fool-- four miles an hour with my distress lights on, straddling two lanes and slamming my brakes on for no reason at all, on the freeway. Yep, it’s sprinkling in so. california.
My car is making funny sounds (the doohicky has a sticky flappy thing and is making it go fappity fappity, but really bad, not like usual) so I get to go to the repair place this afternoon. If I weren’t wearing my new boots, this day would have to be considered a complete waste.
A is for Amy who fell down the stairs. Also, it is a bank holiday in Scotland today. Where they ate scotch eggs, presumably. Butterfly in the Congo, six degrees of seperation, it’s a small world, I’m telling ya!
The butterfly is in China, I think, but we’ve got lasars in the jungle and a baby with a baboon heart. It’s the myth of fingerprints, but we all will be recieved at Graceland.
Where do banks go on holiday? To the river, maybe? Or to a roller rink or cycling race track? Are Savings and Loans allowed along, or do they have to get their own holiday?
I also think Southern California was invaded by space creatures who have a fear of water falling from the sky–maybe they melt or something. They did in Ray Bradbury’s story, 'cuz they were as sweet as sugar.
Maybe I should try to eat a scotch egg using the same method I use to eat haggis. It involves a lot of Scotch Whiskey being consumed before the supposedly edible foodstuff is brought out.
China?! That butterfly gets around. The tramp.
And I wish some of these idjits would melt. From the smell of their damp hides, they’re just festering something fierce.
Plus, my mom had her heart bypass at the same hospital they did the baby baboon heart transplant. My mom’s heart is still her own, not made of haggis.
Banks got to the river on holiday. Cause a river has banks! Haw!
I didn’t say you should bake your scotch eggs, I just said you could iffen that was the only option open to you. sheesh!
Yup! In fact, if you have enough Scotch, the eggs aren’t even necessary.
Speaking of garlic fries, Kallessa, since you’ve been to Eureka recently, do you remember a little hole-in-the-wall cafe called Mikes, IIRC, that sold a huge bag of garlic fries and a chili dog for cheap? Is it still there? Their garlic fries would set you free. 
Is this pronounced like Vladmir Putin?
Kallessa: I like to call it the “Undertoad” and imagine that it lashes out with it’s tongue then drags you down.
In other news: The Boy called me as soon as he got home from school this afternoon. They’d apparently done some midyear testing to see how their reading is progressing. He was thrilled to learn that he’s reading at a sixth grade level. He’s already half way through first grade. I wouldn’t want to be his teacher (even though he loves her dearly).
Yes, Mike’s is still there and going strong. In fact, my soon-to-be officially a brother-in-law scored big points a few weeks back by bringing Mom a Mike’s chili dog and fries–she had been being picky about eating, and this was food she just couldn’t resist. Skinny, greasy, garlic fries, crisp, hot and salty. To die for–except you’ll want to go on living so you can go back for more! (I’m channeling an advertising executive apparently.)
Don’t worry too much about The Boy, Shibb, just make sure his teachers always let him keep a book to read so when he finishes his work early, he’s got something to do. One of my teachers had to learn the hard way–I’ve never done boredom, so if I had nothing to do in class, I’d make something happen. Usually somethang that involved throwing something, making noise, making someone else make noise, or making everybody else make noise and throw things. Such a darling child, I.
Wasn’t the Undertoad in The World According to Garp?? It’s been a while since I read it, but I thought that’s where I first heard of it.
That’s a good idea. He’s usually extremely good in school (read: painfully shy of adults and totally acquiescent to authority), so he’d probably just sit there quietly and not say anything. The reason that I wouldn’t want to be his teacher is that he asks hard questions all the time. I have a thread in GQ right now that’s from one of his questions, BTW.
Yes, it is. I want it for dinner. Someone talk me out of it. I was going to make roasted garlic and chicken pizza, but now I want fries with cheese and gravy. I am the healthiest eater I know.
Well, compared to someone who eats nothing but Krispy Kremes, maybe.
I think combining poutine and bacon cheesburgers might not be a good idea. I mean, not in one plate. Two squishy.
Paging Bookkeeper. Could you email me some three cheese poutine from the Elgin Street Diner? Please? I love you.
I’ve never had poutine, but I bet crumbling some bacon on top of it would be pretty tasty.
Few things, other than dessert, are not improved by a sprinkling of bacon.
Is that profound, or just something I’d expect to find in a Chinese fortune cookie?
Few things in bed, other than dessert, are not improved by a sprinkling of bacon.
<snerk>
Speaking of fortune cookies, since ACBG and I were off last Friday, we met a friend for lunch at the good local Chinese buffet/hog trough. (My own pet name for all you can eat any kind of food buffets is hog trough.) Anyways, our friend’s fortune read:
“You long to see the Pyramids in Egypt.”
Adding “in bed” to that was just weird. I mean, in bed just doesn’t seem to be the place to be pining away for Pyramids, if you know what I mean. “Oh Yes! Oh Yes! Oh Yes! I wanna see the Pyramids in Egypt!” Doesn’t seem real romantical like.
FCM the undertoad is, indeed, from The World According To Garp. How interesting that should come up. See, I have a copy of the book, which I haven’t read in years. Just the other night I spied it on the book case and thought to myself: “I need to reread that one of these days.” Maybe this is a sign it’s time for a rereading.
Or maybe I just watched too much of “The Twilight Zone” marathon last weekend and everything is becoming a “Doo doo doo doo” moment.
Now you all have done it… I’m going to have to go to my Chinese restaurant for lunch today so we can have another fortune cookie entry and Swampbear can add a “snerk” to it.
In bed! <snerk>