A Turkey Mercedes: The Ultimate Thanksgiving Day Parade Vehicle

So, I got this e-mail trumpeting the succulent wonders of a Turkey Mercedes. It even gave explicit instructions on how I, elasticwaistbandlady, could manufacture my very own Turkey Mercedes just in time for Thanksgiving.
I've tried out lesser turkeys. I vividly remember eating Turkey Pinto and Turkey Yugo during the holidays of my impoverished youth.
You could never dance "The Bump" after eating Turkey Pinto for fear of sudden combustion.
Isn't it enough that your flaming Uncle Rick is at the dinner table? Do we really need the whole family ablaze too?
Anyway, I decided that it's high time that I move into the luxury turkey market by taking a Turkey Mercedes out for a little test drive.

In most cases, a smoking, overheated Mercedes would be a bad thing--but not a Turkey Mercedes. It just makes it smell delicious.

When you press the Turkey Mercedes beak-shaped horn it emits a distinctively throaty "Gobble, Gobble" sound.

And you can't pass another Turkey Mercedes on the road without your Turkey Mercedes launching into either a mating dance or an Alpha Turkey Squawk-A-Thon.

The best part of a Turkey Mercedes? You'll never have to buy gas for it. No, instead a Turkey Mercedes will GIVE you gas, and plenty of it, too because the fuel components run completely on corn-based products.

Although, admittedly, the emissions system is ploppy stank-fest of foul fowl matter.

Turkey turds--they ruin everything.

I'm hoping against hope that Pebbles will release Turkey Mercedes Boy, an updated follow-up to her big 80's hit Mercedes Boy, before the next big Turkey Day rolls around.

"Would You Like To Ride In My Turkey Mercedes Boy?"

PEBBLES- MERCEDES BOY

TURKEY MERCEDES: THIS THANKSGIVING'S STATUS SYMBOL OF CHOICE.

Please contact your local authorized Turkey Mercedes Dealer for more information. Or you could just go to this TURKEY MERCEDES site on Allrecipes where you can see for yourself what all the inner workings, secrets, and just what a Turkey Mercedes is really made of.

*From Mercedes Ruehl to Mercedes-Benz....... NO actual Mercedes were harmed in the making of this recipe. Please be a responsible Turkey Mercedes owner and have your Turkey Mercedes' oil changed every 3,000 miles or every time your mom asks if you've gained weight while you're scarfing down your holiday dinner. Whichever comes first. *

The Smiling Infidel Has Dirty Fans

It's true. My fans are dirtier than your fans.
Say it with me: How dirty are they?
Oh, very dirty. Very, very dirty.
Dirtier than dirty rice on a dirty floor, dirty.
Until last Friday my ceiling fans were so filthy stinkin dirty that when the oldest Infidel daughter voluntarily cleaned them, the youngest Infidel daughter, Melody looked up with her eyes wide in sheer wonderment as she exclaimed, "Wow! You shaved the gray beard off the fan!!!"
Yes, perhaps I can knit everyone on my Christmas list a nice Nordic-patterned loincloth and matching legwarmers out of the extraordinarily thick and wooly fan dust we collected.
I'm better at making up creative stories than I am at cleaning.
Don't get me wrong, I'm totally grateful to my daughter for braving the dust bunny army marching across the fan blades but it's not like I didn't already have an embellished cover story concocted to explain it away to family coming to our house for the holidays.
I was simply going to tell them that fluffy ceiling fans from the Fuzzy Wuzzy Fan Company are all the rage among the fashionable set in Europe.
Or that I'm a pioneer in the homegrown Gray Toupee business.........or that I'm decorating my whole house in a dingy shade of gray and I color-coordinated the fans first to match everything.
If that fails I suppose I could sprinkle some star-shaped glitter into the piles of dust and sell it at the Flea Market as genuine Stardust.
See, in the time spent writing this post I could have been making money with my vast collection of fan dust.
You should be paying me for my valuable time that I spend here instead of cleaning.

As If There Was Any Doubt.........

Kohl's Will Sell You A Fine Jew......But Only At Retail Prices

On Saturday I spied with my little eye this sign posted on the side of a rolling clothes rack at Kohl's department store.
The message is clear: If you want a Not Fine Jew on clearance with an additional 25% off, you'll have to go to the Woody Allen bin over on the Barry Manilow aisle.
I, however, opted to pony up a purse-load of shekels to pay full price for a Fine Jew over in the Adam Sandler section. I saw Ben Stiller and Jon Stewart hanging out over there, too.
Of course, a true Jew would be aghast at the thought of compliantly paying retail without any haggling or dickering.
And now I can't stop singing Madonna's peppy pop anthem 'True Blue' as "True Jew, Baby, I Love You......"
The main point is: One should never cheap out when it comes to the quality of Matzoh Balls. Never.

*Poor Barry. I actually feel bad making fun of him since he has been alive forever and he wrote the very first song....it was the song that makes the whole world sing......the song of love and special things!*

Our Plates And Our Guts Doth Overfilleth With The Bounty Of Free Open House Tidbits

Sing It With Me, Churchy People:
Saturday is a special day
It's the day we go out to the buffet
We clean all our plates and we lick all our spoons
And then we feel bloated on Sunday!

The key to true happiness is to find joy and contentment no matter your circumstances or where you are in life.
My true happiness lies in the Holiday Open Houses that all the local stores host this time of year because nothing makes my Infidel soul soar higher than dainty little morsels of free food amidst a background of fall festivities.
We managed to hit four (FOUR!) Kroger Open Houses this weekend and even had enough spare time to make a quick appearance at our local Wal-Mart.

The mini-Infidels made the acquaintance of international superstar, The Pillsbury Dough Boy.
A word of warning: Do not poke The Pillsbury Dough Boy expecting his jolly trademark "Hee-Hee!" because he pokes back.
Coming To A Movie Theater Near You: The Pillsbury Dough Boy Pokes Back.....This Time, It's Personal!
I guess you have to build up a strong sense of self-defense when you know that people want to bake you alive in their ovens.
One day The Pillsbury Dough Boy might find that special little yeasty lady of his dreams and become The Pillsbury Dough Man.
I hope he never publishes a memoir about it.

Ever see a Goddess in a hair net before? No? Well, feast your eyes below!

It is She who rules over the mighty Steam Table Kingdom with a metal serving spoon in place of a royal scepter. She has an eye for fairness and equality as demonstrated by the perfect food proportions she scoops onto the waiting plates of her loyal subjects.

Buster's stuffing his face and getting stuffed with stuffing. Ironic, no?

Look at my little guy! He's on Round Three in the Open House Eating Ring and he shows no sign of slowing down or giving in to his food opponents. He's like a hungrier version of Rocky Balboa with a lucrative sponsorship from The Clean Plate Club of America.

Melody says: "I'll give you free cheese in exchange for free food. CHEESE!"

Stef works on her Hand-To-Mouth coordination skills using a tricky Lilliputian mini-spoon. She's well on her way to earning her Black Belt in the Competitive Food Eating ranks.

If I knew how to use Photoshop I'd erase my Elvis sideburns and double triple chin. Sorry about that.

(I told you I was fat and I don't like wearing makeup. Stop acting so surprised. And for heaven's sake, your eyes do NOT burn. Stop trying to poke them out of your head. I don't look that gruesome in this picture.)

What the World needs now.....is cake, sweet cake.......

The whole Universe revolved around the cake lady. Literally. My own mini-Infidels kept circling the table like they were in orbit.

The Shrimp Table attendant looked worried when we swooped down upon him. He briskly took off towards the safety of the butcher counter- allowing us to have our way with the bowl of shrimpy lovelies.

Do you have an upcoming Holiday Open House scheduled? Are you looking for a special guest appearance by the notorious Infidel Family to brighten up the party? We'd be happy to oblige!

Just contact our social engagements representative to make arrangements.

If that fails, just light up your giant spotlight with The Sign Of The Fork and shine it over the city to beckon us. We always heed the call of The Sign Of The Fork. Always.

I Got Friends In Low Places.....

But my 9 year-old daughter Caterpillar has friends in high places!
Very high superstar-level places, that is!
And isn't that what parenting is all about? We raise our kids with the expectation that they'll become more successful in life than their parents.

I was stunned when Caterpillar received an invitation to a pizza party on Saturday to celebrate the birthday of none other than Matt LeBlanc!
I don't have a ton of money. I hope Matt really likes the Incredible Hulk action figures I got on clearance at the Dollar General store!

I grew up with a Michael Jackson who epitomized the whole "White&Nerdy" thing. He used to sign our class yearbooks like this: "Beat It! Cuz I'm The ONLY Thriller In This School! Michael Jackson 4Ever!" And then he'd draw a little white glove next to it. Yeah. I'll never forget when Michael Jackson's mom bought him a pair of black parachute pants in an effort to try and help her son fit in with his more urban savvy peers. They were 2 sizes too big and he wore them with a navy blue T-shirt that featured the Alka-Seltzer boy on it. You didn't get much street cred in the 80's wearing T-shirts that screamed out "Plop, Plop, Fizz, Fizz, Oh, What A Relief It Is" in big white letters across your back.

And now my gorgeous daughter can share in the celebrity classmate tradition with her own short and freckled version of Matt LeBlanc. Caterpillar may even be able to parlay this into a fledgling tabloid reporter career as she reveals such shocking headline-worthy news like: "I Saw Matt LeBlanc Pick His Nose Like He Was A Pro On The Pick-N-Flick Competition Circuit" or "Matt LeBlanc Chews His Bologna Sandwiches Into The Shape Of The Virgin Mary Every Day At Lunch." One article she'll for sure be able to write after Saturday reads: "I Partied With Matt LeBlanc And Have The Pepperoni Indigestion To Prove It."

From Elastic To Physcokity........

Kind of like that crappy movie From Justin To Kelly.........except the music in my version is much, much better.

Super Blogger PHYSCOKITY and I are so musically compatible. It's a crying shame we don't live closer to one another because then we could totally co-DJ important events like Ward socials, bar mitzvahs, and maybe even an IHOP grand opening or two! Think of it, Physcokity- we could get paid in pancakes!

DJ Elastica and Physcokity rocking the house! Yesssssss. I'm going to buy us matching gold spandex catsuits and coordinating headbands.

Here's a few more songs that I thought you'd love, Physcokity.

VOICE IN MY HEAD- PAINKILLER HOTEL
(Check out the guitarists. One looks like Scott Foley and the other is a ringer for Sean Astin)

I'D RATHER DANCE WITH YOU(THAN TALK WITH YOU)- KINGS OF CONVENIENCE
(The favorite of oldest Infidel daughter Sunbum, right now.)

MOVE- CSS

SILVER LINING-RILO KILEY

One of my favorite commenters and fellow homeschooling mother, J-MOM asked me where I hear all this music. Well, we don't have cable TV, or an iTouch, or even a Wii gaming system. It's rare that we splurge on superfluous items and gadgets, but since I spend half my life driving around, my man, Papi wisely purchased me an XM Satellite Radio system for my truck a few years ago. It happened none too soon because shortly after I developed an extreme allergic reaction to FM radio stations that made me break out in hives every time they played Rihanna, Nickelback, and Lil Wayne 20 times an hour. XM radio quite possibly saved my life and my sanity. I have music A.D.D. Fortunately, I like almost all genres so that keeps me busy channel-hopping on the hundred or so music stations XM has to offer.

I'm a huge music snob now. I seriously can't have a normal conversation with someone without it reminding me of some random musical lyric. Sometimes I can control myself and keep from bursting out singing. Most of the time, though, I can't. My friend, Millie, often converses in an entire language comprised of nothing more than the finest quotes from TV shows and movies. We make an interesting pair.

*I certainly don't expect anyone to sit through 4 music videos nor do I expect any comments. I just was in the mood for sharing some great tracks that you'll likely never hear on mainstream radio because they're too busy playing their role as Masters Of Musical Mediocrity.*

b.: My mom was going to name me Rebecca. That is, until she heard Barry Manilow's tender ballad Could It Be Magic? where he croons, "Sweet Melissa, Angel Of My Lifetime." And so that's how I came to possess the most popular girls name of 1974 along with millions of other Melissa's.

I Got The Music In Me! And Not Even An Enema Can Take It Out!

I'm a fat, white, mild-mannered (mostly) Mormon chick from the suburbs with a heart gut of gold. I've also spawned 6 children. I homebirth, homeschool, and wear pants with a stretchy elastic waistband.

Given all that, what kind of music would you expect to find if you had a sudden out-of-body experience and inexplicably find yourself floating over my outdated but expansive CD collection?

Maybe Air Supply's Greatest Hits? Or Pat Boone's much ballyhooed extravaganza of heavy metal covers? Perhaps I have a secret collection of Reader's Digest special Stardust Memories love song compilation CD's. Oh wait. That would be entirely accurate. I actually do own 2 Stardust Memories CD's. What can you really expect from a woman named after a Barry Manilow song. (Really!)

Anyway, it's presumptive to assume that between gawking at the stacks of lame CD's and my iTunes Library that you'd run the risk of collapsing form a cheese overdose, right?

Wrong.

You can't judge a person's musical tastes from their appearance. I've gone to see such lite rock favorites as Chicago, The Little River Band and Earth, Wind &Fire. But I also got jostled and slammed in the belly of a fierce mosh pit during a Suicidal Tendencies performance in the 90's.

So, what are we listening to at this very moment in the Infidel household? Well, we happen to LOVE the first single from Bloc Party's brand new release, Intimacy.

BLOC PARTY- TALONS

DAWN OF THE DEAD- DOES IT OFFEND YOU, YEAH? (Great pop song. Weird video)

And finally, this song has been playing non-stop at our house all summer and we're still not tired of it! Ever wonder what happened to Albert Ingalls on Little House on The Prairie? Wonder no more! Check out this video at around :30 seconds in. It's Albert Incarnate!

MGMTElectric Feel

Music Video Codes By Music Jesus.com

We went to a Homeschool Family Formal Dance last year. The music was provided by a member of our homeschool group with seriously awful taste. They expected us to get our groove on and shake it to emotionally draining songs like Eric Clapton's "Change The World" and "Because You Loved Me" by Celine Dion. The one and only fast track played was the overly-long "Rock Lobster." I'm totally going to petition to take over DJ duties next year.

*Here's A Picture Of Us At The Fall Family Formal circa 2006. I can't find the one from last year. We're all smiley and stuff because the party organizers just rolled out a platter of Pigs In A Blanket and some guy munched the floor while dancing the Cotton-Eyed Joe. These are precious memories you just can't buy.*

What Not To Say When Meeting Someone For The First Time

I had a chance encounter with THIS super nice lady and fellow blogger on Saturday night. The conversation went as follows:

Smiley Sarah Extends Her Hand: "Hi, how are you doing? It's so nice to finally meet you."

Ridiculously Lame Elastic Holds Out Her Hand And Says: "Uhhhhhh, hi. I've got GAS all over my hands."
(It was true. I had just won a hard-fought battle with my petroleum-soaked gas cap at the filling station.)

Smiley Sarah Turns Complimentary: "I read your blog all the time!"

Insecure Elastic Looks Down At Her Feet And Mumbles: "Oh, really?"
(I'm kind of a rogue Mormon convert. I never know when a fellow Church member comments that they read my blog if it's a bad thing or a good thing.)

So there it is, people. I'm the Queen of Painfully Awkward Conversations.
Do you have too many friends and acquaintances? Are they burdening you and soaking up too much of your valuable free time? Do you just want to rid yourself of all human contact so you can live a hermitary life of extreme isolation?
Just call me---->elasticwaistbandlady<----and I'll show you my proven 12 point plan for alienating people by using the most modern tools available in the field of Non-Communication Communications.
I've carefully studied all the most famous unintelligible conversationalists in pop culture history to devise my unique system of driving all humanity as far away from you as possible.
The panel of experts include: That "Wah-Wah-Wah-Wah" teacher from Peanuts, Boomhauer from King Of The Hill, and the aptly named Mushmouth who rose to meteoric fame on the Fat Albert cartoon series.
I'm a prime example of what happens when the written word beats the tarnation out of the spoken word...........and leaves it struggling for breath on the side of the road.

Introducing November's Super Hot Saveboy Savemate Of The Month

Like HI and stuff!
I'm Elastic but all my close personal foodie friends call me Clearance Closeout Queen.
You know like that Billy Ocean song, Caribbean Queen but I'm much better because unlike her I never get sand in my pageant bathing suit-only marked down candy bars that taste like sunscreen.
"Oh, Clearance Closeout Queen.....now we're sharing the same dream..."

My Turn-Ons Include: That Frugal Gourmet Guy, Orange And Red Price Stickers, Special Managers And Their Big, Sexy 'Manager's Special' Pricing Guns, Long Walks Down The Dollar Store Aisles, And Getting Lucky On The Scratch&Dent Tables.

My Turn-Offs Are: Paying Retail, Mean Old Bargain Meat Bin Hags In Flowered House Dresses, Expired Coupons, And The Devastating Heartbreak Of (Package) Shrinkage.

Now HERE'S Where I Show Off My Tantalizing Assortment Of Goodies:

Yes, we've enjoyed an exceptionally good grocery store week. Thanks to coupons, sales, and clearance items I fed my entire Infidel family of 8 for 9 days on $120.00.
That doesn't mean that we strictly dined on Ramen Noodle Surprise or SPAM Casserole either.
Nope. It's been a regular whirlwind of churning out culinary delights from the Infidel kitchen, same as always.
I cooked up something so delectable a few days ago that it made us all drool droplets of spittle into an endless pool of saliva.
Google DONUT MUFFINS, people. Do it now. And then go make some. (PSSSSST.....I used THIS recipe)

Being the Clearance Closeout Queen has its perks!
One of the first entries I wrote here on The Smiling Infidel was about our friendly grocery store SUSHI MAN.
Yesterday Mr. Sushi Man bequeathed an entire bucketful of primo brown rice to me for the sum total of ZERO dollars!
When it comes to free food, I see no color.
I live in a world where brown rice and white rice can live together as one in peace and harmony.
I may not be too expedient in commenting for the next few days as I immerse myself in the wonderful world of rice recipes.
And no, Mr. Sushi Man is not my secret love.
My passion can't be bought for a mere bucket of rice because I'm worth at least a Sushi Sampler Platter or two.

More From The Handbook: "How To Embarrass Your Children By Using The Economic Downturn Plan."

Twice last week, I made my crew of mini-Infidels feel like they wanted to put themselves up for adoption. I think they actually entertained a few fleeting thoughts of hitching a ride to the Safe Haven state of Nebraska.
Yeah, I pulled off these stupefying feats of embarrassment not once but TWICE!
Okay, so I received a coupon by e-mail for a free Blockbuster movie. After agonizing over selecting a couple movies we could all agree on while trying to shield my impressionable children from the outrageously graphic DVD covers they place right at a child's eye level, we marched up to the counter to pay, coupon in hand.
They refused to take my coupon because we were still a whopping 4 hours away from the clock striking November 1. The register totaled up 16 dollars and something cents.
I balked at the price, positive there was a calculation error.
Then I realized that Blockbuster had raised their pricing to a grandiose $4.99 a movie.
I told the guy that I was sorry to trouble him but I just wasn't going to part ways with 16 dollars of my hard earned money for some low-rent movies.
When his mouth dropped open in surprise, I considerately offered to re-shelve the movies for him. He declined.
The older kids flushed red and tried to hide themselves from the world in the darkened safety of their hoodies.
And then we walked out and went next door to the Kroger's video rental kiosk where we rented 3 movies for ONE DOLLAR a piece.
My kids got over the humiliation when they realized the tremendous savings aspect.
See, we're usually so cheap that we only check out movies for free from the Library.
I guess I've gotten spoiled and now by virtue of comparative pricing, everything hits me like heart-palpitating sticker shock.
The oldest Infidel daughter has waged a valiant battle against her acne for awhile, trying every remedy out there short of a clear skin voodoo ritual.
Finally, the Doctor took pity on her and wrote out a prescription for some medicated pimple cream.
We have insurance now so I didn't think anything about it when I left the prescription at the Pharmacy to be filled.
Twenty minutes later when I went to go pick it up and the very cute and very nice Pharmacist smilingly told me, "That'll be 60 dollars, please," I about stroked out.
Seriously? SIXTY BUCKS for a tube of Zit-B-Gone? Whoa.
Again, I sent my kids into Mortification Mode when I calmly informed the Pharmacist that I'd have to come back for it another day and left the prescription with him.
It looks as though bad times are here and are only going to worsen.
I'm so grateful for the opportunities I've had to hone my once amateurish cheapskating skills into a haggle-at-the-dollar-store Grand Champion. I'm the new Scratch&Dent Queen. :)
My kids may hate my occasional Super Scrooge outbursts, but I think they're finally understanding the realization that our days of frivolously spending money without a plan or a budget is a thing of the past.

Even More Things That My Mother Taught Me......

My mother, the all-knowing, all-seeing font of feminine hygiene wisdom, once instructed me to always make sure that I dry myself off completely "down there" after taking a shower or bath. She said that doing otherwise would leave the area open to mold, fungus and the possibility of mushroom growth.

It's not true. Don't ask me to divulge all the nitty gritty details of my towel-less escapades, just know that it's not true. That should be good enough for you. And thank the Merciful Overlords Of The Fungus Kingdom that it's not true either because if it was you'd be looking for a Gynecologist who also holds a degree in Agricultural Studies. And can you even imagine the tragedy that would befall you if you unwittingly stumbled right into the middle of a stampeding herd of specially trained truffle-sniffing hogs and you got trapped there?

No, my friends (MY FRIENDS??!!? WTF? Am I turning into John McCain?!!?) you probably don't want to sully your pristine towel by applying it to your nether regions, and that's perfectly okay. The laws of nature won't punish you for it.

*This goes a long way towards explaining why I hated mushrooms as a child. I also felt pity for those poor little Smurfs, forced to live inside a whole stenchy village constructed of nothing but slimy butt mushrooms.*