On the grass? Barefoot? That’s no Camel.

Dear C. Brown, can I just pick one? My kid has a penchant for firearms and art museums have too many droopy boobs.

Shorty: Daddy, why do you need more wine?
Mommy: It’s called coping, Buddy, someday you’ll understand.

“Boys have penises. And girls have…. :::thinking::: … girls have two butts.”

You know something, pal? You smell an awful lot like flowers.

Me: There’s a light on in the car…
Hubs: what is it?
Me: It looks like… a vagina
Hubs: What?
Me: Yeah, it looks like a vagina. Is the car trying to tell me I’m in labor?

It’s a vagina light, stupid!

Daddy wanted this cake for you.

p.s. Cakes While U Wait can suck my fondant teat. Applications for family cake baker now being accepted!

(later in the conversation)

Hubs: So who gets to be Person One?
Moms: I say it’s me because the oldest one always gets listed first
Hubs: That’s certainly not what the founding fathers intended

Male chauvanist BURN!

Happy St. Patricks Day!

Age 3 on 3/3, you lucky bastard!

Too busy to eat? Really? “Listen, Mom, I know you made a nice lunch of avocado hunks and mandarin oranges, and but Elmo is going to chew my ass out if I don’t get this TPS report on his desk before 2pm. I’m going to have to ask you to just go ahead and whip up a bottle to go. Mmmyeah, thanks.”

Thankfully, they’ve come up with a genius way to make millions more off of guilt-ridden parents whose toddler goes through the NORMAL phase(s) of not eating every perfectly shaped organic pea and free-range chicken cube on their plate.

Formula 2: Chocolate Goat’s Milk Bugaloo!

It’s no BK double whopper, but it will do.

And then there’s the people who ignore the passage of time and leave their energy sucking incandescent lights up. When the snow finally melts, they peel themselves off the couch, change out of their Packers Taz sweatshirt and go outside (all bleary-eyed like a Sun Prairie woodchuck named Jimmy).

Of course, there’s the possibility that they want to keep on celebrating the seasonally co-opted birth of Jesus, but do blow-up dolls really honor his natal glory in any tangible way?

And because it never gets old for certain members of my family…

The Pro Football Hall of Fame is awesome and refreshingly dated. Considering the big business that is the NFL, I am madly in love how downright modest and old school the building and it’s collections are. And while I take issue with any glorification of the Packalope, it was an NFL nerd’s dream.

Frame OJ? Well, hell. I really love those Naked Gun movies- but you’re right. It’s just too good. We have got to get that son of a bitch!

The warehouse district offers plenty enough douchebaggery for one city. The Sunset Lounge gets a rave for $4 martinis during happy hour; the sushi was meh. The Pinots at D’vine Wine Bar were bad enough but the service was worse. Two thumbs down. In fact, the service was bad in a lot of those wannabe joints. What are you gonna do? It’s a bad economy, so why not take it out on the customers? Seems logical.

Kevin’s Martini Bar: as you can imagine, totally unpretentious. Hi bubblegum vodka!

The only way you could make a group of Ohio State fans any scarier on Michigan game day would be to shroud them in Snuggies.

On to the Rock and Roll Hall of Fame, because, like Springsteen, they’re outsiders and rebels in their multi-million dollar mansions and fleet of designer cars. I give this place a decidedly mixed review, but as a music nerd, my expectations were high.

The stage costumes were awesome, especially P-Funk, Queen and David Bowie. I wish Madonna had her 80s slut gear on display though; that would have made me feel all junior high and shit.

I pink puffy heart LOVED the punk stuff, but then they phoned in the 80s. Aside from Joy Division, they almost completely ignored new wave and early alternative influences. Where do you think the last decade-and-a-half of mediocre music has come from? Boo!

So a resounding eff you, RIAA, you clearly have your big fat nose all up in the RRHOF’s privates. Speaking of which, Metallica sucks. And so does Bono, the big corporate poseur that he’s become.

And finally, in an open letter to Led Zeppelin, you should have so much more than one measly photo of Robert Plant. You deserve a more worthy shrine to your greatness and influence.  If y’all were from Milwaukee I’d build it for you.

I couldn’t tell if she was a Zilla, but the dress looked pretty high maintenance.

In other reviews, Cleveland is clearly not a legitimate brew town, because the only microbrewery in the area with tasting tours on Saturday was closed and shut down when they were supposed to be open. Screw you, Great Lakes Brewing Company… you’re Christmas beer isn’t THAT good.

But Blue Point Grille? You lived up to the hype. Your food IS that good. Did I mention the bisque? Wonderful, headless calamari, and melt in my mouth scallops. Good service too. Yums.

The shining gem in this city, far as I can see, is the Cleveland Museum of Art. They hit all the high notes of western civ. This is not one of those fluff collections with a bunch of also-rans. I was practically humping the walls full of my Baroque-Rococo-Neo-Classic-Romanticism faves. Seriously one of the best art museums I’ve been too. And despite my obviously crass klassiness, I’ve been to lots of them.

And yeah, they had the stupid big block of nothing art that some goof decided was the pinnacle of human achievement (straight lines!), but at least there was no talking doll with a chair on his head moping about man’s inhumanity to man. Two opposable thumbs up!!

Treat her well, dear Cleveland, she’s a keeper.

On our way out of town, we watched the Browns drop a heartbreaker to the Lions. Time out, Mangini… Favre threw you under the bus and now you’ve lost to Detroit. Maybe Brett should have called you before the game to dish inside information or something. You know, to make good, because, “it was about everyone else. Coaches, players, fans… ((sobs)).”

Ramen Slaw Salad

1/4 cup vegetable oil
2 package Ramen Noodles
3/4 cup sunflower seeds
2 oz-ish bag slivered almonds
2 bags coleslaw mix
1 cup sugar
3/4 cup peanut oil
1/2 cup vinegar
2 tbsp soy sauce
1 can mandarin oranges

1) Heat oil in fry pan. Crush Ramen noodles while still in package. Toss out the flavor packet. It’s loaded with enough sodium and chemicals to embalm a corpse.

2) Saute noodles for a few minutes. Add sesame seeds.  After a few more minutes, add slivered almonds. Cook until slightly browned. Pour into large mixing bowl to cool off.

3) Mix together sugar, vinegar, peanut oil and soy sauce.

4) Add slaw mix to cooled noodle mixture and toss. Pour vinegar mix in and toss that salad some more. Hi eVag!

5) Add Mandarin oranges last (they fall apart if they get tossed around too much in step 4).

6) Chill. Yes YOU. Give this dish and yourself a couple of hours to marinate.

Note: this recipe is heavy on the slaw mix for punched up fiber/greens. One could add another package of Ramen noodles and/or up the sauce mix for a richer recipe. There’s a version of this that includes green onions, but I don’t like how they take over the flavor after a day or two in the fridge. This makes enough to take to a party.

Ends up looking kind of like this but slightly more toasted. Much like the cook.

1) After 15+ years of hearing ‘Queens fans claim Favre is overrated, now they’re creaming their jeans over him. Morons**

2) Ted Thompson and his pet donkey are one step closer to the door. How many more post-game conferences do we have to hear McCarthy say, “We’re going to work on that this week” ??? Doi!

Two words: Free agency

3) The incessant snot rocketing made it obvious that any green-n-gold class he had left in his body has now dissipated and been taken over by purple loogie “pride.” Speaking of pride, it is a “bi-” week for them isn’t it? Watch out Percy Harvin, rrrraowr!

I’m thinking the punchline here is “fucking goofy,” but for now the joke is on us.

**Not you dear, of course. I know you never said something that Viketarded.

Who wouldn’t want to celebrate their heritage this holiday season by giving their toddler a play set they can “relate” to? The hubs has his peeps covered:

But for me, catastrophic famine and bloody rebellion aren’t exactly the stuff of Fisher Price, so I guess I’d prefer co-opting another cool culture than to be compartmentalized into Lucky Charms, Uncle O’Grimacey and stiff-armed dancing.

I am truly, madly meshuga over this set for my little Bubeleh. I question the need for  three whole AA batteries for one tiny little musical menorah, and the challah and latkes are chokables, but if it’s properly fixed down to the table, we’re golden like gelt.

Of course, something more neutral would be ideal… Not that I want my kids turning the holiday season into a grudge match, but wouldn’t a kiddie Festivus set be sweet? Family gathered ’round the pole, miniature grandpa holding up a list of grievances aired, two little people wrestling to pin the head of household down in a most glorious feat of strength? A play set scene like that would be a Festivus miracle.

“I think physically and from a talent level, this is the best team I’ve ever been on.”
-Brett Favre, October 11, 2009

Huh?

In other news, YAY! At least someone still loves us.  <<<SMOOOCH>>>

Shorty, age 2.5: :::whines loudly demanding new Hot Wheels Happy Meal car:::

Mommy & Daddy: “Hey, settle down” + “inside voice”

Shorty: (Serious face, pointing finger so as to reprimand Daddy) “THIS is McDonald’s. THIS is NOT a restaurant.”

Mommy & Daddy: :::peals of laughter:::

No Shorty, this is not the clown on Sunset.

“Out here, due process is a bullet!”

And if you ever need a Marilyn Monroe for your movie of the week or a fantastical hospitality suite, Susie is the best. Complete with dippy-sexy voice, rocket one-liners and shiny red lip goo. LOVE HER.

But on to the negatives… Football starting at 10am? WTF? I suppose when you’re the second largest city in the country and you still cannot support an NFL team, you deserve to choke on your own Sunday morning smog.

And fun stuff to be white-knuckling at shotgun doing 75 down a crowded LA freeway while your hubs whistles the CHiPs theme song. There were no Ponch or John to reassure me that we would be safe in the carpool lane. Not cool, Bro.

Watch out, you might get charged with driving without his phone number and being too beautiful.

Nice place, wouldn’t want to live there.

Welcome to the new demographic! Get comfortable, 49 is still a ways off.

Hell hath no fury like a fan scorned…

Won’t you take me to…

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