Monday, August 24, 2009

Me And My Daughter Went Out Clubbing This Weekend!!!

It wasn't the first time I've taken Sunbum out clubbing, either.
Yeah, I know she's only 14 but we've been going to the club since she was a baby.
It's like an Infidel family tradition now.
There's always an abundance of fresh meat at this club and it's yours for the taking!
Sure there's also a bunch of real turkeys and the occasional ham but at least they separated out the fruits into their own section.
I've picked up and taken home many a cheeseball from the club. They seem harmless enough but let me tell you, as you step on the scale after your brief encounter, you realize that they definitely DO NOT respect you in the morning!
They never ask any questions at the door. Nope, with one flash of my I.D. the bouncers allow us both to sashay right in to Sam's Club.
We don't usually drink while at the club but I was feeling spendy on Saturday. I ponied up the money for a large mixed drink on the rocks.
(Country Time Lemonade infused with a dash of Fanta Orange pretty much rules the soda world)
We don't go to Sam's to see or be seen but we've definitely established a mini fan base.
Whenever we walk by the food demonstrators they greet us with a hearty and sincere HELLO.......and then they make a ritualistic food offering to us as though we're some sort of Sam's Club goddesses. Maybe we are.
It's a symbiotic relationship at its finest.
Admittedly, we only go clubbin' to check out the ladies.
I like all kinds of ladies. Fat ones, skinny ones, ones serving Cream of Lox.....Tough ones, sissy ones, even ones with Chicken Fried Crocs!
Sadly, our recent visit was bereft of any decent ladies-in-hairnets action.
I furtively searched through the harried throng of focused club-goers hoping to find a glimmer of hope or some kind of sparkle that one only sees when the fluorescent lighting hits the chrome-plated lid of the electric skillet just the right way.
Alas, there was no sample lady lovin' going on anywhere in the entire club.
This woeful development led me to sing a mournful version of Beyonce's Single Ladies.
Sunbum took the cue and we made it a duet event to remember.
The final tally didn't look so good for us club-going Infidels.
Nobody asked us to dance. We had to buy our own drinks and there was nary a scrap of dried-out pot pie crust on a sample platter to be found anywhere.
I did score some giant breasts. On sale.
A small consolation for our otherwise fruitless night out at the club.
Maybe there's a Sample Lady Strike that nobody told me about.
They're probably all holed up somewhere covert feasting on frozen mini pizzas and Fiber One bars together.
I bet they're throwing back their heads and laughing (with their mouths full) at the pain and suffering they're causing Sam's Club patrons.
I hope I get an invite soon to their private sample-eating party club.
I invented the BEST secrety handshake ever. My gang sign is three fingers. I call it "The Sign Of The Fork."
I'll be more than happy to share it with this rogue bunch of Sample Ladies if they'll only let me in.

Thursday, August 20, 2009

How Many Men Does It Take To Cover An Oft Nude Prince??!?

Apparently, it takes FIVE.
Just don't ask me how many licks it takes to get to the center of a Tootsie Roll Pop. As a professional Tootsie Roll Pop licker I just can't divulge that kind of information for free without damaging my career.
I know that we're only 8 months into the year but I'm going to go ahead and declare the alt-rock geniuses of Incubus the winner of my 2009 Raspberry Beret award for their magnificent Prince-covering work in the guitar-drenched ditty, Let's Go Crazy.
Good job, guys! So tonight we gonna party like it's 2009!
Let me pause a moment as I shower them with a deluge of Purple Rain.....
I don't want to be presumptuous, but barring the release of a seductive version of Prince's classic Erotic City as performed by squeaky clean teen David Archuleta, Incubus will easily remain this year's grand champion with little to no competition.
Admittedly though, the thought of the Mormon Tabernacle choir covering Little Red Corvette amuses me greatly. I can envision them clad in their pristine white robes singing the chorus while dancing The Steering Wheel.
Maybe Metallica will take on I Would Die 4 U?
And Ozzy Osbourne can mumble his way through an updated working of When Doves Cry......of course, he is the guy that bit the head off a dove live in concert. I bet prior to his Marie Antoinette maneuver, he yelled at the whimpering dove, "Stop crying or I'll give you something to cry about!"
Susan Boyle and her new found fame would be a perfect fit for Prince's The Most Beautiful Girl In The World, don't you think?
Anyways, congratulations go out to Incubus for their Princely accomplishments! Each band member will be awarded their very own honorary Raspberry Beret.....why yes, it is the kind you find in a second-hand store.!


Tuesday, August 18, 2009

There's Only You And Me....And We Just Disagree

Ordinarily, Church doesn't qualify as a contentious experience for me. Ordinarily.
However, one of the speakers last Sunday touched on a viewpoint so incredibly outrageous and just plain wrong that I couldn't help but loudly vocalize my concern.
So there I was, perfectly in control of my attention span-challenged self and doing what I do most every Church meeting......dreaming about possible post-Church dinner recipes to try.
That's when the Sister assigned to speak interrupted my food fantasies with the most troubling of questions.
Sister Skinny actually articulated the following sentence: "Wouldn't it be great if you only had to cook and eat ONE time a week and that would be enough to sustain you?"
Flinging my precious few tidbits of self-control to the ravenous self-control eating wolves encircling my Church chair, I loudly bellowed a feisty "HECK, NOOOOOOOO" in response.
(Folks, I do, in fact, have Self Control. It's track 212 in my iPod library. I love me some Laura Branigan.)
Papi quickly shot me the Mexi-eye which is 100 times spicier and meaner than your average, ordinary stink eye. Think a laser beam made out of Tabasco.
The congregants seated behind us tittered with semi-reverent hushed laughter while my oldest son nodded his head in silent agreement with me.
The truth is, that for the Infidel family, we discuss what to eat for our next meal while we're eating a meal. I can't tell you the square root of 1,04,000 or tell you who put the ram in the rama-lama-ding-dong but I can probably recite every momentous food occasion I've ever participated in during the course of my 35 years.
I'd like to bear my testimony that eating can indeed be a very spiritual experience.
Not coincidentally, Sister Skinny is but a mere white waif of a woman.
She was immediately stricken from my mental list of potential Buffet Buddies. I'm guessing Sister Skinny's a one-plater kind of gal and not a Leaning Tower Of Melamine Dishes chick like me.
Hey, I may not wear a size negative zero but at least I always have a cheery rosy red glow to my cheeks--unlike Sister Skinny's saltine cracker pallor. Of course, the energy exerted from bending over to pick up a hymn book causes my skin to flush and turn scarlet with the mere strain of it all.
Sure, my outburst qualifies me as a contender in the Rude Olympics, but hey, that's what Sister Skinny gets for treating Sacrament meeting like it's some sort of audience participation event.
You shouldn't weave questions into your talk unless you want people to actually answer you.
She's fortunate we're not Evangelicals because if she'd followed up her most horrifying query with a peppy "Can I Get An AMEN All Up In Here, People??!?!?" I'm thinking she would've most likely been met with awkward silence.
My favorite first counselor to the Bishop--and Secret Agent Man with the F.B.I--once made the following remark a few years ago: "We're not a charismatic Church."
As I panned around the Chapel and noted a good 50-60% of the members (mostly male) nodding off or already zonked out, I had to murmur an emphatic "Right On Brother Obvious, you got that one nailed...."
He knew how to make an impactful statement dripping with truth.
I'm thinking that Food Network is not Must See T.V. for Sister Skinny. She likely doesn't worship at the altar of Alton Brown, either and she'd never, ever run away to become a Gordon Ramsay groupie. Ever.
It's an eat-or-be-eaten world out there. I fear for Sister Skinny. Maybe us larger folks are here on earth to protect the dainty among us from harmful things like sudden gusts of wind or evil food.
In which case, I take my duties very seriously.
I shall sacrifice myself and rid all the world of Hostess delicious morsel at a time.