The food is lousy and the portions are small

My family, God Bless 'em, expects a home cooked meal every night.  And despite my lack of interest in cooking, I try my best to accommodate them even though *I* would be perfectly happy having a PBJ and a glass of milk for dinner.

I am Not Known for my fabulous cooking or ability to whip up a meal using whatever is on hand but usually, I can make something that everyone will eat. 

Okay, not always.  Take my spaghetti.  The only people who will eat it are TheManTheMyth and me.  Thing 1 prefers Alfredo sauce to my spaghetti sauce and Thing 2 prefers Chef Boyardee in the can.

Whatever.

Every so often I like to introduce a new recipe into the fold and sometimes those recipes are a Hit and get added to my repertoire and sometimes, they are Not.  Buffalo Chicken was a Hit.  Chicken meatloaf was Not.


And neither was last night's New Recipe.


I had noticed a recipe on the back of a bottle of French's mustard and I am all about trying out recipes found on the backs of bottles, cans and jars.  In fact, I actually have a cookbook titled, "Best Recipes From the Backs of Bottles, Cans and Jars."  I love cookbooks, I have quite a few of them and although I rarely actually cook anything found in them, I still love to read them.


Anyway.

This French's Mustard recipe for chicken breasts looked simple and tasty.


Simple, yes.  Tasty, no.


Mixing mustard with ranch dressing to pour on chicken should have been my first indication that, um, NO.  But I followed the super easy directions, mixed up a batch of sauce/marinade, covered the chicken with the sauce, let it marinade for about an hour and then baked the chicken according to the directions, which was 25 minutes at 350'.


Have you ever smelled a mustard/ranch dressing sauce that is heated to 350'?  It stinks.


Oh, and 25 minutes was so not enough time.  I had to up the temp to 400' and transfer the chicken to a baking sheet and let it cook for a total of 45 minutes.  For boneless skinless chicken breasts.  


Surprisingly, the chicken was not dried out and tough after 45 minute.  In fact, it was very juicy and tender.


And tasted like crap.


Okay, the chicken itself was fine.  It tasted like chicken.  That was covered in a nasty mustard/ranch sauce.

We scraped off the nasty sauce and decided that it was nothing that a little soy sauce couldn't fix.


Except we had ran out of soy sauce.  And everyone just sat there and stared at each other in a "Wudder we gonna do NOW?" way.


TheManTheMyth and Thing 1 bravely ate their slices of chicken, Thing 2 had just a bowl of rice and as for me, I took a few bites and then put down my fork and said, "I can't eat this.  I just can't."

So this recipe was a big fat FAIL.  

I think we'll be having spaghetti tonight.

Ticked off Tuesday

Today is Ticked Off Tuesday and lemme tell you, if you want to see a good list of things people are ticked off about, go on over to ByeByePie and read the comments.  We're a ticked off bunch over there.

Here's some of the things my beloved family does that really ticks me off:

Whenever we run out of iced tea, the pitcher gets placed in front of the Ice Tea Maker where it will sit until *I* make a fresh pot.  Nobody else seems to know how this thing works.  And yes, I hate my kitchen tile.  Someday, maybe, we'll remodel the kitchen.  But why rush these things.

Putting dirty dishes NEXT to the sink:

Instead of IN the dishwasher that is SO far from the sink:

Not unloading the dishwasher because "I didn't know the dishes were clean" despite a teeny tiny clue:

They are also incapable of closing cupboard doors:

Or doors of any kind:

They have the ability to ignore burned out lights:

And they find it too difficult to stretch their arm in the OTHER direction where the laundry basket is located.  So they just drop their clothes on the floor.

And if you think any one of these photos were staged, you'd be wrong.

It's all about Shaun White's Hair.

Every so often, just for shits and giggles, and also if I want to get all depressed and have a pity party, I will check my stats for this here blog.

The pity party part comes from seeing just how few people actually view my blog.  Although I kind of knew that because of the dearth of comments.  And the little stat thing that tells me I'm lucky if I get one, count 'em ONE, page view a day. 


Way to show the love people.

Anyhoo.  One of the things I can see on my stats is where my viewers, excuse me, AUDIENCE, are viewing from.  And by that I mean which countries are my viewers viewing from.

And whether or not they like to see me ending sentences with prepositions.  Because really, who DOESN'T like to see a sentence ending in a preposition?  And who was the Grammar Police who decided that ending sentences with a preposition is a Bad Thing?  And who came up with the word, "preposition?"

These are questions that will not be keeping me up at night.

Again, I managed to get completely off track here.

So, while perusing my stats, I see that I have/had viewers from the following countries:

Argentina
United Arab Emirates (no shit!)
Slovenia
South Korea (but not North Korea because I'm sure Kim Il Duck Dong or whatever his name is isn't a fan of the kvetching I do).
Russia
Canada (C'mon, Canadians, show a little love here!  I'm a huge fan of your national sport AND I can sing along to "O Canada" except for the French version)
United Kingdom
Finland (probably because of mentions of Teemu Selanne.  Or the Fins really like me.  No, I'm sure it's because of Teemu)
Germany 
USofA.

Some keywords that brought people to my blog:

"Sorry about that ding." 
"Follow me, I'm a twit." 
"Shaun White hair."

REALLY?  Those are what led people to check out my blog?  Shaun White's hair?

Well, he DOES have great hair.

I wonder what the 2 viewers in the United Arab Emirates were searching for that brought them to my little unread, unloved blog.

Probably Shaun White's hair.

It's ALWAYS about Shaun White's hair.

Whut we've got heah, is failure to communicate

So yesterday, I went back to The Zhay to return the Kangaroo Not-a-Keeper.  My return went quickly and painlessly.  


But for the lady in line ahead of me, not so much.  I was privileged to be able to listen to the entire exchange.

Customer:  I'd like a refund for this.


Employee at the Return Desk:  Is something wrong with it?

Customer:  Yes.  When I opened the box, I discovered the item was used.  I'd like a refund please.

Employee: I'm sorry, I can't give you a refund.  I can only issue you a store credit.

Customer:  Why can't I get a refund?


Employee:  Because we don't give refunds for used merchandise.  I can only give you store credit.

Customer:  But that's WHY I'm returning it and why I want my money back!  It was USED!  You sold me USED Merchandise!  I want my money back!


Employee:  But we don't give refunds on used merchandise.  I can give you store credit.

Customer:  *Sigh*  Let's try this again. I purchased what was allegedly a NEW item.  When I opened the box, I saw that the item inside was not new, it was used.  You sold me used merchandise.  I want my money back.


Employee:  I can't give you your money back.  It's a used item.  We don't give refunds on used items.  I can only give you store credit.

Customer: You're not hearing me.  I was sold a used item.  Someone obviously returned this item after using it and your store repackaged it and put it back on the shelf to be sold as new.  Which it isn't.  I want my money back.

Employee: We don't issue refunds on used items.  I can only give you store credit.  Or (said in a helpful voice) we can just do an exchange.


Customer:  I don't want to exchange it.  I don't want store credit.  I just want my money back.


Employee:  I can't do that.


Customer:  [Bangs head on counter] I would like to speak to a manager.


Employee:  [Sighs.  Rolls eyes]  Fine.


At this point, even though my transaction had already been completed, I wasn't going ANYWHERE.


Manager:  What seems to be the problem?


Employee:  She wants a refund for a used item and I told her we don't issue refunds for used items.

Manager:  I'm sorry, but we only give store credit for used items.


Customer:  [Explains the situation]


Manager:  Give her her money back.

Just a bunch of random crap and a rant

Because I know how much people live for my tidbits of wisdom and observances.

- The next wedding I attend, even if it's a backyard barbecue with a knocked up bride wearing a camouflage wedding dress, I WILL wear an English Wedding Hat.  And gloves.

- Here's hoping HRH Duchess Catherine of Cambridge's wedding dress will finally, FINALLY put an end to the strapless wedding dress craze that is flattering on maybe 2% of the brides out there.  Let's bring sleeves back!

- I don't want to see Osama bin Laden's death portrait because, well, ewww.  But I DO want to see his death certificate.  The long version.  Not the one the state issues so you can be buried at sea.  Otherwise I just won't believe he's not just merely dead but really most sincerely dead.

- And I'm being totally sarcastic about the death certificate.  Because my name is not Donald Trump.  Or Sarah Palin.  Or any of the idiot "birthers."  Or "Deathers"or whatever stupid-ass name they call themselves.

- Because really, what a bunch of goddamn whackjobs.

- C'mon SiriusXM radio!  Why'dja have to go and change the channel lineup numbers?  Admit, you just want to fuck with your customers.  I'm still pissed that you got rid of the Old School punk station, Fungus 53.  Bastards.

- I'd really like to know who the people are on Facebook who come up with those "REPOST THIS AS YOUR STATUS IF YOU AGREE!" things.  And the reason I'd like to know who they are is so I can bitchslap them. 

- Ditto for those who somehow have the idea that if you DON'T repost whatever as your status, you're not a patriot and you hate your mother and you don't really WANT to find a cure for breast cancer because everyone knows that when you post the color of your bra or purse as your status, it's one step closer to finding a cure for cancer.  HOW that works, I don't know but people seem to think that's all it takes.  All righty then.

- If I get one more call from the Long Beach Press Telegram about my subscription, I will go all postal on them.  And you get to read my rant about it RIGHT NOW (lucky you!):

In the Fall of 2010, and by "Fall" I mean Autumn, November-ish, I get a phone call from the subscription department of the Long Beach Blab.  Seems there's a great offer where you get a year's subscription for the price of a 90 day subscription and I said, "Sign me up!" and we did it over the phone using my debit card.  Woo-hoo! I thought.  A week later, I get a bill.  A week after THAT, I get another bill.  Then another bill.  And another.  Basically, I received a bill from the Long Beach Press Telegram every. fucking. week.

I ignored those bills because *I* had paid for a year's subscription.  About a month ago, my paper stopped being delivered.  And then the phone calls started about how I was delinquent and until I paid my back subscription, I would no longer receive my paper.

Whoa whoa whoa, says I.  How, I ask, can I be delinquent when I paid for an entire year's subscription and it's been maybe 6 months.  What the hell, Press Telegram people!  

The LBPT people hem and haw and apologize and tell me that there seems to be a mix up and they're sorry and they'll make a note in "my file."  A "file" that must be at least 6 inches thick because lemme tell you, I've had issues (pun intended) with this paper since it was sold to some big newspaper conglomerate.

Anyhoo.  I still continued to NOT receive my paper and I still continued to receive a bill week after week after week and I still continued to receive phone calls.

And then yesterday, I get a collection notice.  

Oh no they di'in't!

So I immediately call the number on the collection notice, spend 15 minutes on hold and then finally speak to a real live person.  I explain the totally fucked up situation (Okay, I may have yelled and used a bit of profanity) and he apologizes and says he will note that the debt is in error and he also says I'm not the 1st person to complain about the LBPT's subscription screw up.

I thank "Scott" and I'm all, "Whew!  I'm glad THAT'S over with!" even though I totally got screwed because I paid for something I didn't get but whatever.

Then, while I was making dinner, the phone rings.  And by golly it's the collection agency calling to discuss my debt to the Long Beach Press Telegram and how would I like to pay said debt.

Oh no they di'in't!

You'll be shocked to learn that profanity WAS used along with threats to file a complaint with the Federal Trade Commission.

The female at the other end of the line was very apologetic and said she had made an error, that she now read where "Scott" had taken care of the matter and blah blah blah.

How much do you want to bet I'll be getting a call in the next few days from the Long Beach Press Telegram asking if I'm interested in renewing my subscription?

Uh huh.

I'll probably just end up in a faint:

There's one born every minute Part II

I have a confession to make.

I'm a complete and utter sucker for those "Seen on TV!" products.  Every time I'm at The Zhay, I HAVE to check out the "Seen on TV" display to see if there's something I must have.

You'd think I would have learned my lesson THIS TIME.  Those HD Sunglasses should have been an eye opener that these products just aren't *quite* what they claim.  Yes, I have purchased the Sham WOW! and WOW! Was I Not Impressed.

However, I keep trying for that Sucker of the Year award.

Today was no exception.

So I'm at The Zhay today and I was fumbling around in my purse for something when I saw It.  And thought to myself, THIS would be PERFECT!

So, allow me to demonstrate:

This is my purse:

 As you can see, it's not all THAT huge.  It's the perfect size for me because I don't carry everything and the kitchen sink around with me.

This is what it looks like inside:

Sometimes, it does seem like a Black Hole even though this is not a large bag.  My keys and a pen always seem to disappear and then I have to fumble around and I get all frustrated.

So, I purchased this:

THIS, I thought, would neatly organize everything in my bag and I will never have to fumble around for stuff again.

Hmm.

This is what my purse looks like WITH the Kangaroo Keeper, which really didn't fit quite right:

Uh huh.

And THIS is what it looks like without the KK and after I've tossed the unnecessary bits and pieces:

Is your mind boggled?  Is your Flabber Gasted?

MINE is.

Guess who's going to get her $9.99 plus tax back?

Jesus Saves but Esposito Scores on the Rebound

 

So yesterday was Easter and being as non-religious as all get out, we had a big ol' family frolic at my seester Bippy's house.  There was food galore, massive amounts of alcohol, mostly drunk by my BIL Gaga and his sidekick Sandy, aka, The Creeper" on account he was creeping out Thing 1's girlfriend (but in a funny, dirty old man kind of way) and making highly inappropriate yet hilarious jokes and comments.  Niece Erika made a surprise visit from her home in Reno and we also celebrated young cousin (1st cousin once removed?  2nd cousin?  She's young so we just called her "Niece") Leslie's 20th birthday.

The kids also had an Easter Egg hunt, with Thing 2's Competitive Nature kicking in and there may have been some pushing and shoving and cries of "Hey, Not Fair!"

The highlight of our get together was the Thrilling Egg Toss.  The teams lined up facing each other and the tossing of the eggs commenced.  Yes, we tossed hard boiled eggs because really, who wants to be splattered with gooey raw egg?  But did you know that if you toss a peeled hard boiled egg, it has a tendency to disintegrate in mid air, usually right above face level so that you get splattered with bits and pieces of egg?  Yeah, found that out the hard way, I did. 

Unfortunately, in the midst of all the hilarity of the day, there were tears and cursing and wailing and tearing of hair and rending of garments.
 
I didn't MEAN to be a Debbie Downer but my hockey team, the Anaheim Ducks, were eliminated in the NHL playoffs right before my very eyes.


Of COURSE I was watching hockey on Easter.


Doesn't everybody?


Jesus would have totally understood.

After all, He Saves.