You Decide: Extreme Cheapness Or Extreme Eco-Conservationism?

I bought these rolls for the paltry price of $1.00/dozen on the clearance bakery racks at the grocery store.

Yeah, they may be just one step away from entering a crusty state of Crouton-dom, but you can't beat the price tag.

That's one small step for stale bread items......one giant step for the Infidel Family budget.

Nothing is too good for my family.

Except paying retail price for bread products, apparently.

After polishing off the rolls, I couldn't bear to throw away the sturdy aluminum baking pans they came in.

I could have a little Greenpeace member living inside me, fighting to get out. Or maybe I was blindingly hypnotized by the shiny, shiny reflection beaming off the silvery surface........or it could be the temporary loss of oxygen flow to the brain when I about choked to death on a crumbly piece of dried-out roll...........but whatever the reason I promptly cleaned out the baking pans and stored them for future use.

These little beauties have served me well through a Donut Muffin baking frenzy. They also lovingly housed my traditional Thanksgiving rolls this year.

I almost feel like I can never throw them away now we've become so attached.

My mom got a cast iron skillet set and some antiques as her family inheritance.

My kids will likely receive some well-loved and well-worn aluminum muffin pans when I die.

They'll undoubtedly reminisce fondly about their wonderful mother and how she combined a legacy of cheapness, recycling, and family heirlooms all into one cherished gift.

It's a good thing I have 6 aluminum pans to share equally so that none of my six mini-Infidels will have to launch a court fight against each other.

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.*

And The Great Pumpkin Smiled Down Upon The Infidel Family

I hope the Great Pumpkin never finds out about my GREAT PUMPKIN PIE recipe. Yeah, that might be kind of awkward, especially if the Great Pumpkin reads the noted remark revealing how much I love my GREAT PUMPKIN PIE slathered up in whipped cream.
It just sends the wrong sort of message.
So does my other recipe for GREAT PUMPKIN NUT BREAD, but we won't go there.

Well, never let it be said that my back-breaking, so-irritating, low-compensating, bowel-restraining, soul-maiming job doesn't have its perks.

I drove past an open field this morning and spotted these poor orphaned pumpkins just forlornly lying there entrenched in the tall wispy weeds with their Cheeto-hued shell covered in brownish grime and frothy bubbles of dewy wetness--remnants of the recently evaporated early morning mist.

Okay, yeah, that sounds much more flowery and eloquent than saying I saw a bunch of filthy orange gourd thingies that appeared as though they'd recently taken a tumble through a Manure Maze, right?

Anyway, the space surrounding the pumpkin orphans was littered with broken pumpkin carcasses and stringy pumpkin guts.

Love is a battlefield and so too is a Pumpkin Patch turned Pumpkin War Zone.

This was obviously the work of the produce-killing comedian Gallagher who's looking to disband his Smashing Watermelons group so he can join up with the newly reformed Smashing Pumpkins.

Practice makes perfect.

Or maybe notorious pumpkin serial killer, Peter The Pumpkin Eater is on the loose again.
I don't really know who the guilty party is here. That's for the Pumpkin CSI team to determine.

I jumped out of my mighty Infidel truck and hurriedly rushed over to the field where I scooped up the pumpkin smash survivors and relocated them to my Infidel Truck/Pumpkin Rehabilitation & Adoption Center. Then I headed home.

My mini-Infidels swarmed out of the house, excited to meet their new found pumpkin buddies.

I let them each adopt the pumpkin of their choice provided that they solemnly swear to never use the pumpkins as a bowling ball.

They're also strictly forbidden from terrorizing the neighborhood in a Legend Of Sleepy Hollow re-enactment.

I'm fine with the mini-Infidels utilizing a hollowed-out pumpkin as a bike helmet, though.

Oh, Great Pumpkin, thank you for thy bounteous blessings. I never doubted that you were real. Not even for a nanosecond.

*So, pumpkins this size are about 4-5 bucks on average around here. I picked up 8 intact pumpkins. That's like finding $32.00. I wasn't even going to splurge on buying pumpkins this year because it's clearly classified as "Frivolous Expense" in the family budget.

If I can convince the mini-Infidels not to carve the pumpkins up, we'll have a natural autumn yard decor until the end of November.*

The Best Twilight Trailer Video Ever!

I saw this video at the Navel Gazing blog and decided it was too good not to steal it to post over here and share the Twilight spoof laughs.

Just so you know, my daughters are hard core Twilight fanatics. And yet they still rolled off the bed from laughing so hard even though this cheeky film maker dared to make a mockery of their precious Vampire/Werewolf love triangle drama.

Things My Mother Taught Me......

When I was 5 years old, my beloved Grandfather passed on.
My mom tried to soothe away my profound sorrow by explaining that Grandpa hadn't really left us. She said he'd transformed into a beautiful angel who was watching over me....and everything I did.........all the time.......no matter where I was........Grandpa would ALWAYS be there, WATCHING me.

I refused to shower without my bathing suit on for nearly 6 months after that. I dressed myself in the darkness of my closet and slept underneath my bed at night. I constantly worried that Grandpa was going to rat me out for hiding my morning vitamins in the light fixture that hung over the table.

I feel guilty about that last one. I'm sure my Grandpa is more ARCHangel than NARCangel.

Grandpa, wherever you are........don't give up any of my trademark beauty secrets or my one-of-a-kind Fish Stick Casserole recipe. I know that you know but just keep it on the low, aight?

Hey, I Wear The Pants In This Family Too......Even If They Are Crotchless

It's finally happened. Temperatures dropped in Houston out of the sweltering 90 degree range down to a brisk and happy 56 degrees.
I am so ready to give my saturated butt sweat towel a final ceremony to properly celebrate the closing of butt sweat season.
So, my usual boudoir ensemble features the very titillating delights of my all-cotton elastic waist band shorts.
They have bleach spots on them and the drawstring hangs disproportionately longer out of one side.
I hate that.
Whenever I make a midnight potty run that stupid string always dangles down, brushing against my leg and sending me into full scale panic attack.
See, my not yet fully conscious morning mind registers it as a cockroach that's decided to stealthily stake claim on the Infidel Southern Territories that include Mt. Hairy Knee and the Temple Of The Fatted Calf (Calves). And then I start screaming and slapping at the imaginary insect foe. Every time.
Anyway, cooler weather means cooler nights which means that it's time to break out my slinky bedroom winter gear.
You should see my sexy sockwear and matching thermal nightshirt. It's hawt.
So, I don't know how this tragedy befell me but, my favoritest sweatpants in the whole world went into closet storage with a minor hole smack in the crotchal seams and now, just a few months later, the hole has metastasized into the circumference of a personal pan pizza.
That's an ad slogan that will never be used by Pizza Hut.
"Our personal pan pizzas are as large as the hole in the crotch of your sweatpants!"
I put them on anyway figuring that as long as I acted all ladylike and stuff and kept my legs closed, nobody was going to notice the gaping gulch.
Unfortunately I can't watch TV without sprawling about, treating the bed like I'm in stirrups on the Gynecologist's exam table.
I'm terribly uncouth in the confines of my own home.
Well, my man Papi came wandering into the room and was immediately smitten by my racy new evening wear and its innovative "ventilation" system.
Yes indeed, the wonder of crotchless sweatpants combine all the warmth and comfort you've come to expect from your sweats while also showing off your secrety slutty side.
Crotchless Sweatpants: Redneck Lingerie At Its Finest!

The exclusive Crotchless Sweatpants line can be found at all Lurlene's Secret stores or at fine Billy Bob's Of Dollywood retailers everywhere.

Closed Captioned For The Sane And Sober

This video of a spasmodic Joe Cocker singing "I Get By With A Little Help From My Friends" at Woodstock has been modified so that the rest of us who didn't hit the same mushroom themed party before the big event can understand what the lyrics are all about.

It's easily the funniest thing I've watched on YouTube all year. Personal favorite moment happens around 2:25. Who knew that Joe Cocker envisioned Jesus as needing a fashion accessory like a turban to accent his long, flowing robes?

4:06

Newspaper Wars Part 2: The Carrier Strikes Back

One of my beloved Chronicle customers fails to grasp the concept that by obnoxiously blocking her walkway with 2 huge trucks, I can't possibly deliver her newspaper on said walkway without smacking into her trucks.....and yet she continues to relentlessly call in to the feckless Chronicle customer service line and demand that her special walkway delivery instructions be followed.

My first instinct was to write a curt little note pointing out that when she decides to turn a public street into a private parking lot with her vehicles she's putting hers and her neighbor's homes and lives in jeopardy. If I can't see the curbside house numbers neither can the Police, or the Ambulance, or the Fire Department. Well, that's assuming that a fire truck could even manage to get anywhere near a blazing inferno of a home due to all the vehicles scattered about. Not to mention what could happen in the event of a sudden Pizza Emergency and the delivery guy gives up all hope of ever finding you and it ends with you, weeping and frozen into a pathetic state of Pizza Withdrawal.

Even though I'm completely exhausted and supremely irritated with able-bodied people who think they're entitled to special treatment, I decided to instead stuff her paper with a little letter of whimsy bemoaning my lack of any supernatural newspaper-throwing powers.

Don't mess with me, people. I'm armed with a sharp #2 pencil and a pad of paper and I'm NOT afraid to use it!

If you can't read the above correspondence that I wrote to the obviously brilliant customer who presumes that I can throw newspapers straight through 2 tons of automotive metal, here's the transcript:

Dear Cherished Subscriber,

So, you think I possess enough superhuman strength that I can deliver your paper from great distances and over 2 large vehicles parked vertically in front of your walkway?

HOW YOU FLATTER ME!!!!

Alas, I am but a mere mortal who lacks the benefit of a bionic arm.

I physically cannot possibly chuck your newspaper to your specified delivery location. Especially since I'm so busy trying to navigate my way around the many vehicles clogging your cul-de-sac.

I can't leap tall buildings in a single bound nor can I stop a speeding train. Don't tell that to my boss though because he thinks I'm the GREATEST carrier ever!

Love,
Your Carrier

I consider this akin to a Public Service Announcement.
I'm calling my non-profit group, GIVING A CLUE TO THE CLUELESS.
You can make your donation checks out directly to me.
Thanks.
Or you may choose to support my other cause benefitting newspaper workers like me who suffer from non-evolved paper carrier genetics.
If only we could grow an extra arm or something it would have make our lives a whole lot easier.

Land Of The Free.....But Only If You Totally And Completely Agree With Our Point Of View

Do you have a yearning to speak candidly with one of the Presidential nominees this year?
Joe the Plumber did and now he's being raked over the coals for daring to ask questions and challenge the darling of the mainstream media, Senator Obama.
For going against the grain and not being a good little sheeple who throws himself down to worship at the feet of a political celebrity, Joe is paying a steep price.
The media is eviscerating this guy who rightly pointed out that Obama's "Take From The Productive And Spread The Wealth To The Less Productive" policy is Socialism bordering on Marxism.
They've relentlessly dug up "dirt" on Joe so they could paint this average citizen as a right-wing redneck who should be completely discredited for voicing his personal opinion.
I've read several leftist pundits who have written that they bet Joe is sorry now for showing up and asking questions and that he's "getting what he deserves."
Is this what our society has come to? Are the citizens of this great country going to have to cower silently in a corner because rising up and being vocal about something they disagree with results in vicious personal attacks and public slamming?
I don't care that Joe the Plumber doesn't have an actual plumbing license (he's only worked on jobs that doesn't require one) and that he owes back taxes.
Does that somehow negate his Constitutional right to Free Speech?

The message is clear:
You will be good little sheeple and do what you're told, understand?
Don't question authority. We know what's best for you.
We will tell you what to do, what to say, and what to think.
You will go along with the corrupt 700 billion dollar bailout even though at least 8 out of 10 constituents said NO, and you will like it.
If you do not comply with our demands and show absolute obedience, you will be swiftly punished.

This is a bi-partisan post/rant. This issue transcends politics.
People, we are being taught that if you dare to publicly question something, you can expect to have your curbside trash ransacked and your pre-school teacher interviewed in an effort to get as much crap on you as possible.
That's just one frightening step away from starting up and shipping non-compliants off to the Re-Education Camps. You know, like what they do in Communist countries like China when the people get a little restless and ask questions of their government.

Both Senator Obama and Senator McCain voted to pass the disastrous pork-laden bailout whose funds are now being managed by the very same slimy Goldman-Sachs weasels who pushed it in the first place.
That was a bold in-your-freakin-face move to the American public considering the majority of us didn't want it.
The bailout was a bad day for the average American taxpayer but it was a very, very good day if you're in the business of rum running and making bows&arrows for children.
What happened to the concept of a representative government?
I guess if I were to bring up a pertinent issue like this to either candidate's face I can expect for the whole world to find out that I lip sync hymns during Church and that I voted for Kinky Friedman in the last Texas Gubernatorial race because I hated all the other mainstream party candidates.

Is this our long awaited and hoped-for change? Well then, I say change it BACK. Let's kick it old school and bring back that little happiness that our Founding Fathers called a Constitutional Republic.

If Anyone Needs Me I'll Be In My Kitchen Shooting Rock Videos Inside A Bowl Of Tomato Soup

When I'm tired, I get a little bit loopy......and then the non-stop parade of drunken giggling begins. Now, new and improved drunken giggling with banana-scented flying spittle!
Comedy Clubs can do away with the 2 drink minimum and just require guests to show up after having worked two days straight with little to no sleep. I can guarantee they'll be more loosened up and ready to laugh at whatever mediocre comedian takes the stage. Heck, a crowd like that will double over and almost wet themselves when the owner starts the show by pointing out the emergency exits and the No Smoking sign.
The club can make up revenue in food sales.
I know. I've worked 2 days straight and I'm feeling a weird bubble-headed sensation along with being faminous.
I made that word up. Ravenous+Famished=FAMINOUS

Okay, if I go to sleep now I won't wake up to get my mini-Infidels off the bus or drive my girls to Homeschool Teen Camp because I'll immediately enter a comatose state that not even a kiss from my true love, Papi will be able to awaken me from.
So to keep me awake, I watched a heralded video debut on youtube from a group called The Urgency.
It features young men who may or may not have just escaped from junior high detention hall in enough time to make it to the video shoot.
Personally, I'd expel them for singing about the raunchiest of things while a woman who looks twice their age shakes it in a sequined goddess outfit. The poor thing can't even open her eyes because her lids have been spackled with more glitter than you'd find at a Princess Party for a hyper 5 year old.
Oh, and did I mention that it appears as though they're singing in some sort of hazy purgatory that looks an awful lot like they took a wrong turn and ended up in the middle of a bowl of tomato soup?
This video presentation is brought to you in part from our sponsor, Campbell's Soup, because Campbell's is Mmmmm Mmmmm Good.
The funniest for me was some of the comments posted underneath this video masterpiece.
My favorite read: "At first I thought they were gay. And then I found out that they're actually from New Hampshire, and I was like, yeah, that explains a lot."
I've been quoting that piece of brilliance all day today.....and then following it up with a bout of drunken giggling complete with another round of banana-scented flying spittle.
You see what a crappy economy is doing to the entertainment industry? Do you??!!? Instead of special effects created hot molten lava or shooting flames, these young ingenues are forced to settle for prancing around in a hot steaming bowl of tomato soup.
Maybe they should have added The Urgency onto that ridiculous pork-laden 700 billion dollar governmental bailout.
Ooops, excuse me. At last count our New World Order commander, Presidente Bush had tacked on yet another 200 billion.
Round and round the trillion dollar debt grows. Will it stop? Nobody knows.

As a complete bonus, the lead singer of The Urgency bears a startling resemblance to that randy goat herder, Balki Bartokomous.
People, how can you take punk rock seriously when your lead singer looks like Balki Bartokomous and adds a weird superfluous "S" to the end of his song lyrics?!??!?
"Well, of course you can't, don't be ree-dee-cu-lous."

*I've tried to spare your intestinal mechanisms from churning and working overtime this fine day but if you really MUST see the video I'm mocking, it's HERE.

Sometimes Dreams Do Come True.....

My favorite pizza consists of thin crust topped with Italian sausage, mushrooms, and black olives.
You should keep this pertinent information handy. You never know when you might get the prompting to send a pizza to a hungry woman in Houston.
Anyway, I've never once partaken of a Scratch-And-Dent styled pizza, but the instant that my Infidel eyes locked onto the magical Manager's Special sticker slapped on the side of the crumpled box, I knew it was fate that had led me to that darkened corner of the Kroger Deli after closing hours.
You see, in my possession was a coupon for $2.00 off on this exact brand of pizza.
So, the original price was $8.99. It was marked down to $5.20 because of the squished pizza packaging. And then I furthered the savings with a $2.00 coupon!
We all ate lunch today for $3.20.
Yesssssss!!!!!!
Not even a neighborhood Pizza Pimp can beat that kind of bargain pricing.
The midnight cashier looked concerned as I cradled the pizza to my chest and lovingly cooed about how happy I was that we'd finally found each other at just the right moment.....the moment that made all my cheap eats dreams come true.
The early bird gets the worm. However, the late-night Infidel scores the deeply discounted pizza!

A Proverb From Physicians Running Behind Schedule: Patients, Entertain Thyself

Scheduling Doctor's appointments for all 6 mini-Infidels last week turned into an exercise in extreme patience.
We sat there at the clinic for an excruciating 3 hours on Friday. And then on Monday, we tacked on an additional 4 to our Frequent Vinyl Bench Sitters Rewards Program.
When will these public waiting rooms ever learn that vinyl in 90 degree Houston heat can only cause the heartbreak of excessive leg sweat?
Rivulets Of Leg Sweat: The key to keeping vinyl furniture looking shiny and smooth.

You know what I think? I think that plopping you down into an examination room/holding cell for hours on end with nothing to read except a tattered copy of Golf Digest, is the preferred method the office staff uses to administer an effective temperament test without you even realizing it.
Little do they know that 4 of us are bloggers. We're accustomed to sedentarily staring straight ahead at nothing in particular for hours on end while restricting all movement, outside of the clickety-clackety motion of our typing fingers.
We remained determined to not let the winds of boredom declare victory on us. After all, we freakin know how to make our own entertainment in a sterile and humorless room!
First thing we did was thoroughly read the instructions on the hand sanitizer dispenser. That was fun. Just as we were about to start crafting our own cast of tongue depressor characters for a rendition of Popsicle Stick Theater, I remembered that I brought along my trusty camera sidekick.

Naturally, Sunbum, the eldest mini-Infidel, remained the least inhibited.
Here she's a little bubble of unbridled enthusiasm stuffed into a fashionable Pyramid inspired gown.

And this is the precise moment where the Nurse pops that bubble of unbridled enthusiasm with a hypodermic needle filled with the meningococcal vaccine.....followed by a tetanus booster......followed by a chicken pox booster....followed by a Hepatitis A shot.....followed by a TB test.....followed by a blood screen and a urinalysis.

Sunbum is now ready to expand her circle of friends to include those afflicted with the above conditions.
You can submit friend applications here.

As several earnest but hollow promises of"The Doctor will be with you any minute now" drug into tedious hours, we started to give up hope.
Sunbum remarked that the privacy sheet she was given to cover her lower extremeties during the exam reminded her of something you'd see on a crime drama where they use a white sheet to cover up a corpse. I guess this shortened sheet is the one reserved for use on a person who's only half-dead--or for midgets.

Bored, Sunbum started fashioning her sheet into a gallery of remarkable designs. I encouraged her to. Mainly to stop myself from tying sheets together to make an escape from our third floor prison.....or a noose.
I'm going to field a guess and say that in this picture, Sunbum's representing the under-represented class of Constipated Shawl Wearers...........

Ready To Tie On The Feed Bag With A Customized Bib Guaranteed to Catch All Drips And Dribbles...........

Striking A Pose Suited For An America's Next Top Model Competition.....Or Doing The Robot. I'm not entirely sure.

People Jump Ship. People Jump Rope. And Some People Even Jump, Jump For Your Love- But Only When Listening To The Pointer Sisters. Instead, My Sunbum Jumps Sheet........

Working On Her New Line Of Du-Rags That Double As A Baby Burping Cloth........

Only A Clorox Sponsored Superhero Would Dare To Wear A White Cape........

Ghost Costume: You're Doing It Wrong!
Virgin Mary Costume: You're Doing It Right!

Sadly, not all of the mini-Infidels were so thrilled with the photographic attention as they actively shied away from the digital spotlight.

Stay tuned as next month The Smiling Infidel gang and their multitude of toothy problems, invade an unsuspecting Dental Office in hopes of depleting them of all their complimentary toothbrushes to resell on the toothbrush black market.

I Cast Ye Out, You Demons Of Inferior Mommyhood.....BE GONE!

So, on Tuesday, the youngest chillens of my mini-Infidel tribe darkened the doorstep of a public school for the very first time in their entire lives........and they lived to go forth and bring home more TAKS (State Testing) review worksheets another day.

I need to learn that it's not possible to do everything all at once. It's just not. I can't effectively give my kids what they need in the area of homeschooling when I'm juggling several jobs and fighting to maintain a somewhat orderly household.

The mini-Infidels have adapted well to a school environment which is enough relief to counter balance my feelings of being a complete and total failure.

It's difficult to send off children you've birthed at home and held close for so many years to the same institution you loathed and withdrew your older kids from.

The youngest, Melody, walked in the door after her first day of Kindergarten, threw up her arms and loudly announced, "Everyone in my class LOVES me!"

Melody didn't learn important things under my tutelage- like mastering reading skills- but at least I can take full credit for nurturing her very healthy self-esteem.

Dan Patrick Wants To Be Your FOREVER Senator!

Most politicians only jabber on about Hope And Change For The Future. But one Texas Senator is truly turning his thoughts towards the future--the very, very, very, very, very, very distant future, that is.

We received the above survey and newsletter from Senator Dan Patrick's office last week. Apparently he expects to live out another 517 years or so while serving in the Senate because he's prognosticating exorbitant property taxes for the year 2525 while discussing what he plans to do about it.

He's like our very own Property Tax Specialist Nostradamus.

That's very comforting to know that us mortal citizens can rely on a political man in command to reduce our wallet-draining Texas property taxes........and it'll only take 517 years for Senator Patrick's big action plan to come to fruition!

Okay, if Texas Senators serve terms spaced out in two-year increments, then Senator Patrick only has to win approximately 258 more elections.

Whoa. I hope his campaign invests in some quality heavy-duty campaign gear and signage because it needs to last a really looooong time.

By the time 2525 rolls around, Senator Patrick will likely be nothing more than a giant dictatorial brain pickled in a super-sized Mason jar like something out of A Wrinkle In Time.

You know the folksy duo, Zager And Evans , prophesied what life would be like in the year 2525. They didn't seem to mention anything about property taxes, though. They instead included lyrical wording like "In The Year 2525, if man is still alive. If woman can survive."

Well, we know at least one man will still be alive in the year 2525 and that man is Senator Dan Patrick!

IN THE YEAR 2525- ZAGER AND EVANS (3:24)

*I couldn't resist writing a short piece of snark on the survey before mailing it back. Honestly, the 2525 wasn't just a singular typo-- 2525 was repeated ALL OVER the page. I theorize that whatever aide or intern that typed this up was probably listening to his Ipod and jamming to this melodious song that discusses a post-apocalyptic world circa 2525. I'm inspired. I'm going to go buy something expensive that costs around $517.00 and then I'm going to finance it for a dollar a year for the next 517 years. Yep. Sounds good to me.*

Shamelessly Working The System To Your Advantage: Buffet Edition

I am the Queen of all I survey. Well at least I am down at the local all-you-care-to-eat buffet.

Just so you know, I had nothing to do with voting down the cherished "all-you-can-eat" buffet phrase down in favor of the current and more politically correct, all-you-care-to-eat. That took place long before my ascension to the Royal Buffet Throne. I would never have tolerated such mealy-mouthed buffet lingo insolence from insubordinates that still follow that whole archaic "Democracy" thing. Thank the Golden Corral Goddesses above for allowing me the blessing of a plastic sneeze guard to separate myself from those lesser-beings.

Anyway, you don't become the Ruler Supreme of a Buffet Monarchy without learning a few valuable face stuffing tricks along the way.

As my magnificent crew of mini-Infidel rapidly age, they're finding themselves mired within a frightening land outside the relative comfort of Kid's Menu pricing. I've had to employ trickier and trickier techniques to keep them fed in the luxuriant manner they've become so accustomed to.

By royal decree, there shan't ever be generic brand Macaroni And Cheese served to Her Buffet Majesty's precious offspring. After all I am raising future heirs to the Royal Buffet throne. Only Kraft original makes it past the food testers and onto our dinner table.

So, here's our top secret smorgasbord strategy laid out so that even the most casual of buffet patrons can follow it. Think of this as a sort of Buffet For Dummies instructional post.

Most buffet pricing changes abruptly at 4:00 P.M. They signal the transition between lunch and dinner by hauling away the petrified weenies that've been loitering around the buffet steam table all day (Sorry, Gramps) and swap them out for some freshly grilled steak and other carnivorous yummies.

Buffet King Papi and I synchronize our watches for exactly 3:50 P.M. before gathering up our brood to make a sweeping entrance into the restaurant. That way, we can stroll to the register a mere moments before the dinner pricing kicks in.

It's a real adrenaline rush.

We're literally living out that lame adage of getting steak on a hamburger budget.

Another tip is to ask the grill guy to slice open your steak before claiming it as your own and bathing it in steak sauce.
On a recent goodwill sojourn to visit my loyal subjects over in Buffetland, my well done steak looked chargrilled on the outside like this:

But after slicing off a chunk, it was revealed that the interior was more reminiscent of a nice honkin piece of steak tar tare.
I'd like to give Golden Corral the benefit of the doubt. Maybe they were simply trying out a new entree choice by combining recipes?
Steak Char Char on the outside with a nice raw Steak Tar Tar on the inside.

You know how most Chinese Buffets plop down gigantic golden Buddhas in their entryway to guard against potential Kung Pao thieves? Well, I hope to one day position a line of Buffet Queen Elastic statues in the atrium area of my favorite buffet places. My specifications call for wide, outstretched arms that will welcome the masses of hungry people searching for a great pants seam-ripping dining experience.

Elastic: Buffet Queen And Patron Saint Of Buffets

What? You're Still Talking About That Flippin Hurricane? Are You Ever Going To Get Over It?

It's only been 3 weeks since Hurricane Ike blew through. No, I'm NOT over it yet.
My Papi lost his office building to a tornado that spun off from the Hurricane.
It landed on the building, shattering windows and flooding the lower level.
We still have damage to our house and we're still trying to recoup the loss of two refrigerators worth of food.

Things are just now starting to feel a little like normal again.

I'm usually loathe to read The Houston Chronicle. However, the front page story last week made me giddy with joy.
Meet 60 year old Madelaine Carter, who, as of last Thursday, still didn't have her electricity back on.
When asked by the reporter about her situation and how it felt to be surrounded by others who were enjoying their restored power, she was quoted as saying, "Everyday is pretty much the same. You sweat, and you HATE everyone."
I'm nominating Madelaine Carter as the unofficial spokeswoman for the Houston Hurricane aftermath.
I HEART her to the infinite butt-sweat towel power!

Houston is known by many titles:
Space City
H-Town
Bayou City
Home Of The Smiling Infidel
4th Largest City In America
Fattest City (Awarded By Men's Health Magazine)
Beyonce's Hometown

After seeing the mountainous piles of tree remnants stacked up in neighborhood yards awaiting city pick-up, I considered another title to add to Houston's impressive profile.
Houston: Firewood Capital Of The World
This picture would look fantastic on some new glossy travel brochures touting the firewood surplus that Houston has to offer.

I maneuvered the mighty Infidel truck into a squealing U-Turn so I could go back and take a picture of this little irony in action.
Out of the 6 businesses in this local shopping strip, Lucky Money was the ONLY one that sustained major smackdown damage.
Lucky Money......Or Is It?
I guess Hurricane Ike and I share mutual feelings regarding check cashing "services". You'd be better off doing business with greased-down, slicked-back Tommy Salami over in Little Italy.
Tommy will offer you a more reasonable interest rate.

I drive past this house every day and I still can't get over my amazement at the tremendous force that ripped up their colossal tree, roots and all.
Using this picture as a guide, it's somewhat difficult to gauge the staggering height of the huge chunk of formerly front yard turf standing straight up.
It extends all the way to the tippy top of their second floor roof line.
For reals.

We nicknamed this tree in bondage, "Gulliver" because it appears as though a tribe of Lilliputians showed up, tied it up, and staked it up so that poor "Gulliver" can never escape and run free with any roving gangs of young, rebellious trees.

There's many of us around here that can now proudly display a "LANDSCAPING BY HURRICANE IKE" sign in our yards.

It's interesting to note that when you play the Scissors, Rock, Paper game in nature, the paper will usually win.
Paper comes from trees, right? And these trees decimated everything they fell on. They crunched and munched their way through a couple tons of SUV metal along with a sturdy rod iron fence.

We met this friendly father of four while pumping gas a week ago. Like us, he still didn't have water or electricity but at least he had an important message to share with the World:
"Protect Your Nuts"
We would all be wise to hearken upon this wise counsel.
I'm happy to report that our nuts remain blessedly intact to see another day from the inside of a nice loaf of banana nut bread.

There's Even More Stupefying Hurricane Pictures Over At Boston.Com

You know that whole "Time And Season" lecture we hear so often? This is really not my Time or my Season for blogging. I initially closed comments on my last post because the blogger guilt I suffer through when I can't reciprocate comment love is destroying me. That may be a bit melodramatic, but it's steeped in truth.

Things aren't all sunshine, lollipops, and rainbows everything at La Casa de Infidel. Well, unless you count the sunshine streaming in from the many exposed holes in our roof after Hurricane Ike.

I had to go crawling back to my old job last week. I'm grateful for the employment but that doesn't make me any less stressed or tired from returning to the grueling daily work grind. Sad.

The three youngest mini-Infidels are about to get acquainted with the "WE TEACH STATE TEST TAKING SKILLS ONLY" public school system after years of homeschooling. More sad.

Blogging will have to drop to the bottom of my very long list of priorities and responsibilities. Seriously, my list rivals the length of an unfurled roll of toilet paper. Saddest of all.

Thanks for all the super clever comments. Millie Chicken confided in me that the commenters she reads here are existing on a diet chock full of fun witticisms and that you're a cut above most blog respondents. Yeah, she really did say that! There's no generic "LOL!" comments going on here.

During our long bout without power I read comments via my cell phone and blogged using a line hooked up to our neighbor's generator. We only got 1-2 hours a day but at least it was enough to feel connected with the rest of the world. You have no idea how happy reading comments made me during the tedium of nearly 10 days without electricity or a job to go to.

Later,
The Smiling Infidel