Monday, February 16, 2004

I Sprained My Tongue on Valentine's Day

No; I have not taken up punk songwriting. I really sprained my tongue. And not in the good way. It began a little over a year ago when my husband bought some frozen fish from a door-to-door salesman. Why did he do this? I don't know. Jethro does a lot of things that confuse me a little, but anyway, he bought it at a pretty good price considering that it hasn't poisoned us.

Anyhoo, among the plethora of frozen fish was a bag of frozen lobster tails. We had been saving these lobster tails for a special occasion, but each special occasion that has passed, we have forgotten about them. Well, yesterday, the happy coincidences of poverty, Jethro's board review, and the girls' ear infections forced us to reconsider our restaurant plans, and the bag of lobster tails, at long last, was utilized.

Jethro bought a cheap bottle of champagne and a single rose, and I got the kids to bed, broke out our wedding champagne glasses, and turned on War Stories with Oliver North. Tres romantique. We sat down Indian style at our coffee table to enjoy the lobster feast. We clinked our glasses and dug in.

The first lobster tail I ate was quite mushy which I attributed to some mild freezer burn. But the second one I ate was perfect. This got me thinking about that first one.

Now if you have ever gotten food poisoning, you know that there is a fate worse than death. You feel like you're in the bowels of hell with the bowels of hell. I reflected on this as I chewed my second lobster tail. I concluded upon swallowing that I would rather "release" the already consumed lobster tails rather than suffer the potential consequences. I felt bad about "releasing" the good one I had just eaten but what else could I do?

Now there is a reason that I am a little overweight. Part of it is the Bigboobs, part of it is a virulent hatred of exercise, and part of it is that I am an utter failure at bulimia. No matter, I never had quite this incentive before. It took a little while, but finally, after thinking very hard about MTV's Jackass, and with my finger reaching depths it had never reached before, I accomplished.

I returned to the lobster feast with my enthusiasm dampened somewhat. Jethro had considerately divided up the non-mushy lobster tails into equal portions. I had finished my portion and drank most of the rest of the champagne when I realized that, due to my expulsion attempts, my tongue was sprained way way way in the back where it attaches. Since I could do relatively little about it, I finished the champagne, reveled in my intoxication for about 10 minutes, and then went to bed. Quite possibly, it was my most memorable Valentine's Day.

Wednesday, February 11, 2004

Ramblin' Man (Woman)

Jethro and I have many things in common. Eating and drinking for one. We love it. Unfortunately, Jethro's metabolism is conducive to marathon eating sessions and mine, well... isn't. We both like gross-out comedies and violin solos, and we both enjoy the fact that we are (to put it delicately) of differing races. It gives us something to talk about.

I really have to compliment myself at how I was able to list our racial diversity as a similarity. I think that was the most brilliant politically correct statement I have ever made. So brilliant, in fact that I'm going to end on it.

Tuesday, February 03, 2004

The Super Bowl and the Nipple

Kinda sounds like a modern day Aesop's fable. I was blotto by the end of the first quarter so I gotta say that the old nippy didn't make much of an impression on me. This was also due to the fact that I was dancing in line for the port-o-lets at time. I have since seen replays.

Now from an adult perspective, I don't think it was any big deal. I mean if a woman like Ms. Jackson feels that it is a wise career move, or aesthetically pleasing, or in some way cathartic to have a dancing singing man-child rip off her top in front of billions of people, I would firstly have to seriously question what went on in her childhood. Secondly, I would have to admit that I am more amused than offended. I began singing another tune when I spoke to my little sisters though. One of them had a Super Bowl party with a few of her little girlfriends. They were really disturbed by it. It made me think about what I would have thought at that age (11 years). I think I would have been horrified. It wasn't so much the nudity, but the way in which the offending feature was exposed. It was a little scary. As an adult, I am about as intimidated by Justin Timerlake as I would be by a bowl of pudding. But as a little kid, I would have been frightened by any guy ripping off any gal's shirt. It also annoys me in a more abstract way, that any celebrity would be so egotistical as to think that their naked body parts could elicit any emotion at all in me or anyone else. But mostly, I think it was crummy to make kids see that.

Other than that, the Super Bowl was great. Despite what the idiot commercial reviewers say, I think it was the best one I've ever seen - except for the fact that I drunkenly changed my allegience to the Panthers at the last second. I always do that. I pick my team and then somewhere around the 4th beer or Long Island, I change my allegience to the underdog (if the underdog is not who I am rooting for in the first place). Weird, I know.