That's got WHAT in it?!?

I found out today what was in the Filet O' Fish at McDonald's. But first off, let me say that I never eat anything that has a name separated by a giant "o", it's just gross, filet "O" fish, bucket "O" crap, and so on. You get my point. I don't even know why they named a sandwich that in the first place, what's wrong with "fish sandwich", direct and to the point, informative too. I guess they want to throw in the "Filet" to make you think it's snazzier than it really is. The fish they chop up and form into those little golden deep fried squares is called a Hoki fish. It's the ugliest damn thing to come out of the ocean since David Hasselhoff. I mean it looks like some kind of aquatic parasite. When I saw that fish, the last thing that was going thru my mind was to slap a piece of cheese on that sucker and stick it on a hamburger bun. Mmm-Mmm!!

Another great item to read the ingredients on are those little beef sticks you find by the cash register at the gas station. I swear some contain "beef lips" and "mechanically separated chicken". WHAT? First off, when they say beef, why don't they just say cow? Is there other meat that is called beef that isn't from a cow? Or does cow lips sound too horrifying to eat? I always think of the last time I saw a cow in the field, I really didn't notice if he had lips or not. I guess everything does, and this poor animal's lips end up in meat sticks that rednecks hork down with their beer.

And how does one go about mechanically separating a chicken? Does that mean that the animal is torn from stem to stern by a machine? Again, to horrifying to put on a label of something you WANT people to eat. I'm just shocked that PETA isn't all over those people. They've got protesters all over from the circus to the KFC but the snack industry can "separate" chickens and rip the lips off cows and stick them in a meat stick and no one blinks and eye?

Like potted meat. That doesn't sound so bad, except if you read the ingredients, if they named things like McDonald's does, it would be "can O' eyeballs and assholes". Seriously, have you ever read the ingredients before you sit down with a big ole juicy potted meat sandwich, trust me, if you do, the sandwich will go to the dog or anything else the household that cannot read. That's just an example of the weird crap that's in our food. And we just gobble it up by the truck load never bothering to read the ingredients.

When it comes to certain foods I am willing to take the bad with the good. When it comes to peanut butter and chocolate, I'd eat it no matter what I was told it was made of. My son told me the other day that every jar of peanut butter contained a percentage of cockroach parts from the manufacturing plant. He also waited to inform me of this AFTER I'd eaten my second pound of peanut butter for the day. But then it really hasn't stopped me. I say bring on the bugs, nothing will keep me from the foods I like. I guess ignorance really is bliss, if that's the case, I should be the happiest freakin person on the planet.

A Special Request

This is a special request from my two favorite kick ass guys at the Grainger Academy. You guys rock out loud and you know it!

This is a story that I originally wrote about ten years ago about a horrific Thanksgiving with my ex and his crazy ass family. It seems to have become a favorite among all the people I force to read my stuff!



It was a Thanksgiving Day many years ago, I was still married to my kid's Dad. We had the tradition of going over to his family for Thanksgiving dinner. This is the story about what was thankfully, my last Thanksgiving with my husband and his family.



I walked slowly up my sister-in-law's driveway. I was holding a huge banana pudding, the only dessert my then mother-in-law trusted me enough to make. My mind was racing with excuses. Should I fake a fall in the driveway? Or a stomach ache after dinner started?

I followed my husband and our two kids through the back door and into the kitchen. The smell of overcooked turkey and neglected cat box immediately hit me. I placed my banana pudding on the washing machine next to my sister in law's annual gelatinous mystery that no one would eat.The house was very small. And that day, the house is filled to the walls with my in-laws. Everyone was there, the ones I saw regularly and the ones that only seemed to show up when there is food involved.


I edged myself sideways through the cramped dining room searching for my husband and kids. I only stopped occasionally to answer the usual questions, "Yes, we're both still working", "No we don't plan on any more kids", "I haven't seen him since he got out of jail", and so on.I found my husband in a very animated conversation with is brother, who lived in Detroit. His brother's girlfriend was drunk already and starting to hug people. I thought to myself that this has to be a record; she usually waits until after she has words with my mother-in-law. His last girlfriend would just scream at you when she got drunk this one is affectionate instead. I decide I don't want a hug and made my way back to the kitchen where my mother in law was chewing out my sister in law because she's eaten all the skin off the turkey.



Just when I had decided to get a stomach ache, my mother in law shouted "Come and get it". I found myself shoved aside into the refrigerator by my step-brother in law's pregnant girlfriend. She announced that both she and the baby are starving. I stood back and watched the relatives descend on the kitchen counter like a pack of wild animals.I suddenly saw husband jockeying for a place in the food line. He got a plate for each of our children. I had yet, and would never learn enough survival skills to hold my own at the buffet line with my in laws. I wait until both the kids have finished eating and announce to my husband that I feel a severe headache coming on. (Which by that time, is no lie).

As I searched for our coats on my sister in law's bed, I saw my stepbrother in law sitting at the dining room table with his leg raised over his head and a cigarette lighter held to his rear end. He announced proudly that everyone should look because he's getting ready to "Light One!". I rushed out of my sister in law's bedroom with the kid's coats in my hand. Grabbing each child's arm in each of my hands I said good bye to all the relatives between the bedroom door and the back door. I lied to my mother in law what fun I had and make a break for the car. On the ride home I thought of how thankful I am that it is over.

And thru the magic of divorce and my ex's affection for other women, I now look forward to the holidays. Secure in the knowledge that when the craziness starts, from now on, I'm the ringleader

Parental Extortion

Anyone who has children knows what I mean. Bartering with your kids to get them to do something or behave in a certain way. When they're young it's candy or cartoons, then toys. When they get older it gets a little harder to get past the eyeball rolls and the heaving sighs. They just want to be left alone. This narrows our options as parents. You can result to cold hard cash, but then with my kids, they'll nickel and dime me to death. We'll stand there haggling over how much they think running the vacuum is worth. According to my kids, their hourly wage is right up there with my Doctor's. I could afford to call him up and get him to vacuum my living room easier and cheaper than my kids.

My son is particularly difficult to barter with. He doesn't want anything. Money means nothing. All he wants to do is stay in his room i.e. his "man-cave" and play video games. He swaps games with his friends and is completely content. So, when he came to me the other day asking me for something, my ears perked up immediately. What kind of parent would I be if I didn't see an opportunity to use his request as leverage to get him to do something I want? I know to some this may seem extremely opportunistic and manipulative. But raising my children has been an all out mind game, battle of the wits. My children are exactly like me. They've been messing with me as long as they've been able to form a cognitive thought. So in return, I mess with them. No risk of taking the high road with me. If I want the trash taken out or the yard mowed, or fish that mystery floating dead thing outta the pool, I better have something in my arsenal to barter with.

My son asked me to sign up for GameFly. I had no idea what this was. I'm an addict of Netflix so he explained that it's just like that except with video games. This was music to my ears! An ongoing monthly bartering tool I could hang over his head! I acted reluctant just to make him sweat but as soon as he left the room, my fingers were on fire signing up. I was so excited to tell him that he'll get his subscription as soon as the yard is mowed. And the games will keep coming as long the grass doesn't grow past my ankles. When my cats are stalking thru my grass like they're hunting prey on the Serengeti, the grass is too long.




So that's my newest, most wonderful tool that I've added to my parenting arsenal. You've probably noticed I've put one of their ads on my blog. Now all I have to do is find something that my daughter is interested in on a monthly basis....

Some Days...

I know it's been awhile since I've posted anything new. Some days you just don't feel funny. I know I'm supposed to fill this blog with my own personal brand of smart ass comedic ramblings. I just haven't felt funny lately. It's not like something you turn on and off, I'm not a trained seal. In fact, on the days I don't feel funny, I feel down right mean. The "kick the walker out from under the old person kind of mean". I know not everyone has that kind of temperament, but I do. And luckily those that love me and have to live near me, have learned how to handle me.

I know every one's feeling stressed in these rough economic times. I know I'm not the only one that's going around "perpetually pissy". I just don't want to deal with anyone else who is. I was at the grocery store yesterday. I had my list and my coupons and I'm trundling up and down the isles trying to focus my 3 second attention span on my list. I pulled my cart off to the side and while I was sifting thru my coupons I noticed out of the corner of my eye and old lady standing behind me. Just standing there. Watching me. My Mom then says "Are we in your way?" and the lady smiles and goes past while I shoot her a "I hope you slip and fall in the produce isle" look. This pissed me off, and I stewed over it the rest of the grocery trip. If she wanted past me why didn't she just say so? Was she trying to send me some type of Vulcan mind message that I was supposed to get? I hate those people. Now it's a crusade of mine, if you get behind me in the grocery store, I WILL NOT MOVE, you are going to have stop assuming that I'm getting your mental messages and actually use your vocal cords and say excuse me or we're gonna be there the entire time I stand there and sift thru my damn coupons. Period.

The other endlessly irritating grocery store behavior is the people who stop in the middle of everything and chat with other people. They clog up the whole damn isle playing chatty patty catch up. In this modern age of technology, can't they communicate in any other form or fashion than blocking the isle in front of me? I have a cell phone that allows me to e-mail my sister what I had for lunch to day in the next state away. These fools can't talk anywhere else but the middle of the damn grocery store? I'm on a mission dammit, I'm here to get my shit and get the hell outta there,period. I do not use the grocery store as a social event. I have enough going on. In fact, even if I know you, or am related to you, if I see you in the grocery store, I may or may not acknowledge you. It all depends on the level of irritation I have at the moment from my current shopping experience.

My children say I'm not a "people person" . I figure I'm as friendly as the next person, just don't piss me off. I don't like crowds, and it's a guarantee that the more people are in the store, the higher my irritation level will go. I don't like being stared at either,contrary to popular belief I didn't get tattoos and color my hair so I'd get attention. I can handle a stare or two, maybe a comment, but after that, I'm wanting to pull your eyeballs out your ass if you look at me sideways. I still have no idea why my kids friends are afraid of me. I'm a pretty easygoing person really, just don't say hi to me in the grocery store.