Friday, August 31, 2007
Wednesday, August 29, 2007
Our exclusive writing review board is a little short-staffed after the big Agatha Christie Poison Pen fiasco last week. Our condolences to the families. We're playing things a little safer this time by showcasing the finest in edible ink.
Voltaire had his favorite feather pen which, if he were alive today, would likely heatedly argue with Captain Feathersword of The Wiggles over which is mightier- The feather pen? Or the feather sword? At C.R.A.P, we eschew classic writing traditions, and opt instead for the unique. Our reviewer, Sunbum, has donned a lovely sombrero for the occasion, and filled her ink well with picante sauce to test its worthiness as a viable ink substitute. Armed with a bowl of tortilla chips, Sunbum carefully pens an important message onto the scrolled paper.Weary of people telling her that her writing lacks zest and verve, Sunbum happily reports that chronicling her thoughts with salsa adds an instant spiciness to everything, with little to no effort. Quotes Sunbum: "I imagine that this is what a Penmanship Class in Mexico must look like. Tables filled with fresh hot sauce and tortilla chips, just ready for their eager pupils to create a written masterpiece with."
Indeed. Who wants to enter the strenuously choreographed world of salsa dancing when you can sit on your butt and become a salsa writer instead?
Sunbum had only one lament about using the Chip N Dip process. She advises that it's a technique best used when accompanied by a huge writer's block.....of cheese!
Next week, our reviewer will travel back to the beginning of writing instrument history by using a bug-eyed squid to recapture the pen and ink basics.
Monday, August 27, 2007
Stephenie Meyer, author of the phenomenal Twilight Trilogy, wrote the first book based solely on a dream she had. Encouraged, I thought, "If only I could just concentrate and remember the stuff in my dreams with more detail, then maybe I can sell a lot of books and make a lot of money too."
It's disturbing, but I can't seem to stop dreaming about all my new blog friends turned real life friends. It's starting to creep me out. For instance, last night I dreamed of the whole lot of us taking a hay ride, pulled by a tractor, through a small town. It stopped at a little shopping mall and we all piled out to go inside. I noticed the three screen movie theater immediately and noted that the marquee showed movies entitled 'Infidel 1,' Infidel 2', and 'Infidel 3.' I excitedly remarked to NCS that I didn't know there was an Infidel movie series. Then Annie, NCS, and I wandered into a shop that specialized in Mexican candies and treats, and one whole wall exhibited an astonishingly colossal assortment of cotton candy flavors. We walked over and saw they had Golden Turkey Cotton Candy, which was sold out, and Carrot Cotton Candy. I'm assuming that the Carrot Cotton Candy tasted like a vegetable and not, in fact, like Carrot Jello. Earlier in the week, I dreamt of Carrie and the gang all gathered together at the hotel when a suspicious looking fellow with a large metal hook for a hand checked in. Later that night, I nervously asked Carrie if that was such a good idea to let him stay there and she erupted with a mischievous chuckle as she told me that she switched his hook hand for a harmless plastic hanger. Relieved, I went to sleep, only to wake up to blood-curdling screams as the man desperately tried to make Carrie part of his hook-handed urban legend, but was instead slashing the air with his new plastic hanger appendage in futile frustration.
It scared the crap out of me. My kids broke out laughing when I told them about it. My kids are weird.So there you have it. What say you? Do you think I can transform stomach-churning Cotton Candy flavors and tales of plastic hanger-handed serial killers into a best-selling literary series? Can I count on your support?
Saturday, August 25, 2007
I Want All Of You To Become Rabid Fans Of The Smiling Infidel And I've Got A Cost Efficient Plan To Do It Too!
Thursday, August 23, 2007
Here's a segment of random titillation (I said Tit!) for the men out there who fantasize about having a bevy of beautiful bloggers sprawled out across their bed. Not only did we party with Jim Gaffigan, but we partied in our THONGS! Oh yes, we did. And then I picked up Jim and took him home with me. Luckily, Papi doesn't seem to mind sharing our happy home with a white man.
Carrot and I shared a king-sized bed together without anyone else clamoring for our nocturnal company. Why? Well, because we're the only two that ate chili cheese dogs and I suspect that nobody wanted to spend the night with a coney addict. That's okay. We had each other, and our very own Restricted Access Chili Dog Chick Room.
We all got in touch with our inner shadow people and had lunch at Annie's house complete with onion rings courtesy of the fabulous Rug's Bug. Annie and Carrie's dad, Big Rich, made my day by telling me he's a huge fan of The Smiling Infidel. Then, their mom said that 'I brought much joy to their lives.' I want that stitched onto a sampler. I got to share my 'Newspaper Carrier Greatest Hits' with Rug's Bug and her husband because I knew that we all understand completely the life and times of a paper slinger, both past and present. I loved getting to meet all the kids and spouses. Loved it! Annie's Secret Agent Man is funny and hawt. No wonder she doesn't reveal his identity on her blog. I also got to see Annie's computer room where all the magic happens.
Yeah, I went up, up, and away in one of those cable gondola thingies, all the while nervously calculating how much we all weighed against the 1,000 pound weight limit. We were a movin on up.......movin on up......to the top! While eating at the mountain top restaurant, Carrie and I solidified our titles as Queens Of Inappropriate Dinner Conversation. Yay us! Think Sex And The City:The Mormon Lite Version. If you ever want to know about the risque hidden meanings to popular songs, just ask Sodak Angel, Carrie, or myself. We know everything.
And then we embarked on a cave tour where all the formations had food names like 'Cave Bacon,' and 'Drinking Straws.' Sodak Angel and I saw things quite differently, though. Fun With Phonics? No, not us. Fun With Phallics? You got it! Carrot was the star of the tour, overshadowing our sweet Natalie Portman look-alike guide with her humour and picking up new people around us to add to our entourage. I have pictures but they haven't been modified to protect the innocent yet.
Here's a closeup of my now notorious Pink FIFI bag. We had a big gift exchange too. Well, instead of parting gifts, I got farting gifts. Sodak Angel and Carrot Jello know me all too well!
Tuesday, August 21, 2007
Contrary to the sign, I'm not a man at work at all. No, I'm more like a working girl. Well, not an actual, you know, working girl. More like a Mistress Of Manual Labor. I'm on my way to work right now but I wanted to post something lest anyone thinks that Annie and Carrie kidnapped me and made me an honorary Colorado sister. How I wish! Read you all later.
Thursday, August 16, 2007
Yes, The Smiling Infidel is boldly going where she's never gone before. I hope the fine citizens of Colorado are prepped and ready for the Bloggy Women Invasion of 2007!
And chicken dancing with the famed Mike The Headless Chicken of Fruita, Colorado. He was even once an esteemed Presidential candidate.
And here's where I name names. I'll be getting high with a little help from these friends:
Wednesday, August 15, 2007
(Well, not really. But they don't sell
And then, while only two months into our courtship, and many stomach lurching dates down at Pancho's Mexican Buffet, Papi proposed to me. Yeah, I know, that guy has some big......
Tuesday, August 14, 2007
I've listened to many a people talking excitedly about their blissfully fantastic first time, but I chose to abstain from such things and hold out because I didn't want an impugned reputation as a 'painted lady.' Well, on Friday I finally did the deed.....
.......and got a pedicure!
My mom treated us both to a nice hour at the spa because she didn't want me going to Colorado with ugly feet. Yeah, what people think of my feet are the least of my worries when I'm about to meet a veritable buttload of dazzlingly gorgeous and witty bloggy women this weekend.
So, our spa venture just wouldn't seem complete without a nice waxing. I've never waxed anything, unless you count waxing nostalgic or waxing poetic. Or the time I kissed the Turtle Wax boy from the car wash in my wild youth..... Anyway, the very petite Vietnamese lady had me plop my hulking frame down in one of the salon chairs that backs up to a sink so I could lay down and get slathered up in hot wax on my upper lip. The warmth of the honey-like amber wax made me feel all comfortable and cozy until......she let it RIIIIIIIP! Without warning, the lady yanked the gauze off the left side of my mustache. Reacting to the immense pain, I slid down the vinyl chair, all the way to the floor. Did I get any compassion or caring? No. The lady called out in her sing-songey language to all her salon co-horts so they could enjoy the show too. And then she smiled big, and patted the seat as she instructed, "You get back in chair now. Me have one more side to do....."
And now you know why Bertha The Bearded Lady down at the circus was that way- Obviously she had a deep-seated phobia of hair removal products. I'm so never getting waxed again. Do you think Melissa The Mustachioed sounds nice? What about Melissa And Her Malevolent Man Whiskers Of Mayhem?
Sunday, August 12, 2007
So, I looked onto these local neighborhood STOP signs with great concern. The one on the left bears graffiti, spelling out an ode to Mr. 2 Legit 2 Quit himself, M.C. Hammer. Yes, the sign reads 'STOP! Hammertime!' The second sign, around the corner from the first, contains the uplifting message brought to the masses by Journey back in the 80's.....'Don't STOP Believing!' Wise words, indeed.
But then the signage stops abruptly, right there, without any further instructions or details leaving me, the casual passerby, to wonder what became of these fine young graffiti artists, determined to maketh their mark upon this world. Surely, two paltry signs can't contain the extent of their vast creativity. I mean, there's so much more they left unfinished. What about:
1. Don't STOP Thinking About Tomorrow- Fleetwood Mac
2. Don't STOP The Dance- Bryan Ferry
3. STOP Me If You Think That You've Heard This One Before-The Smiths
4. STOP In The Name Of Love- The Supremes
5. STOP Dragging My Heart Around- Tom Petty
6. STOP! Dimentica!-By The Italian Singer, Tiziano Ferro
7. I'll STOP The World And Melt With You- Modern English
8. STOP That Train- Bob Marley
They could even get lazy and just slap an exclamation mark onto the sign making it 'STOP!' as a homage to the smash hit by Erasure.
One day, I hope my proud graffiti artists learn about the satisfaction that comes from a job well done and they'll re-commit themselves to finishing this great work.
As a funny side note, we here at La Casa De Infidel delight in singing Journey's 'Don't Stop Believing' while we're struggling with the call of nature and looking for a suitable toilet. We sing it "Don't Stop Believing.... HOLD ON TO POOP FEELING!" Sometimes my mini-Infidels will take us by surprise and retort with a comeback tailor-made by the fine folks from REO Speedwagon. "I CAN'T FIGHT THIS FEELING ANYMORE!"
Friday, August 10, 2007
So, does Phyllis Fudge call her bicycle a FUDGEsicle? When she does her taxes and claims her new nose hair trimmer as a business expense, does the IRS agent roll his eyes and disgustedly say,"'She's always trying to FUDGE on her taxes." Does she tell her kids that Judy Blume's book, 'SuperFUDGE' was written for her? When she eats nuts, does she exclaim loudly, "New and Improved Phyllis Fudge......Now With Nuts!!!!!"? I wonder if she follows the stereotype and bakes FUDGE to give out at Christmas while people whisper amongst themselves, "There goes that FUDGE woman giving out FUDGE again." Maybe she could start her own company. 'FUDGE'S FUDGE.'
With an awesome name like that, she needs to get out of the real estate game and record a hot track to transform her into a Pop Princess. Maybe something like Fergie's 'Fergalicious' except she could call it 'FUDGEalicious.' Mmmmmm, FUDGE. Can you see it now? FUDGE Live And In Concert With Cake. Suh-weet!