Welcome to the Painful Jungle

Seriously, people. These videos are everywhere. I sang twice at Avitable's Halloween party and wouldn't you know it, both performances are now immortalized forever on YouTube.

Trust me, this is four minutes and 38 seconds of pain. Guns 'N Roses pain. Axl Rose? Your job is secure.



Click here for the direct link.

I swear, this is it. No more karoke videos of me.

That I know of.

PS Audio NSFW. Use headphones. Hee hee!

Baby Got Back, Take 2

Yes. Yes. Me and Sir Mix-A-Lot struck again:



With the assistance of Miss Britt and Mommy Melee.

Avitaween RAWKED!

PS I should really be banned from karaoke.

PPS When I'm drunk.

A Long Time Ago...

... In a Galaxy Far, Far Away...

AVITABLE'S HALLOWEEN PARTY 2009 - INVADED!

The call was sent out and heard by bloggers far and near, from Alderaan to Tatooine, Coruscant to Kashyyyk. We were told to converge on the holiest of holies.

Orlando, Florida.

To the home of Adam Heath Avitable, Jedi Knight turned Dark Lord of the Sith. That we should come and witness the new seat of the Empire.

The message told us to gather on Saturday, October 24, 2009, for the Halloween party to end all Halloween parties. To drink the sacrificial wine. To spill the sacrificial blood. To eat the sacrificial burritos.

And to finally meet all those mysterious avatars we've been staring at online for years.

So, it is with great reverence, respect, and, well, EXCITEMENT, that I inform you that the Ty-man and I are currently driving to said destination as we blog.

Yes, please feel free to follow my Twitter feed and/or Flickr account as I attempt to regale you (while wearing Stormtrooper gloves) with 140-character-long-stories and shitty-iPhone-camera-pictures during the party in question.

Or, you can just check back here on Monday Tuesday sometime next week and get the full scoop on who dressed as what, who puked on who, what we sang, and what the seat of the Empire really looks like.

Blog you later!

Recipe for Relaxation

Take a ½ cup of magic:


A full cup of sequins:


One cousin:


A couple of bloggers:


Add a dash of green food coloring:


A pinch of dragon fire:


And don’t forget 6 million gallons of water:


And some pureed Mickey pumpkin:


Stir vigorously:


And you have two very happy, relaxed people, ready to jump back into the real world.

What's Shakin' Bacon?

Almost two months ago, there was this big happening called a Republican National Convention. Yeah, I didn't know about it either (sarcastic, much?). And did you know it was held in Minneapolis/St. Paul, Minnesota? Don't ya know? And I remember hearing about a bunch of reporters from various cable news outlets taking in the Minnesota State Fair during said convention. And from what I understand, Minnesotans will eat almost anything fried or coated in chocolate or both. And what was the thang being munched with much gusto?

Chocolate-covered bacon.

So then Adam Heath Avitable, with his candy fetish, went all wuss and tried out a chocolate-bacon candy bar. He? Was not impressed. That's because I think he did it all wrong. If you're going to eat chocolate-covered bacon, you need to eat the bacon fresh outta da frying pan. And the chocolate needs to be dark, gooey, and warm. None of this hard, cold candy bar crap.

Enter the following photo essay*:


It's all about center-cut bacon, baby. Yum!


And if you're going to dip center-cut bacon into chocolate, then it needs to be dark chocolate fondue from the Melting Pot.


The Ty-man was unconvinced that this was a good idea. But, as he pointed out to me, not only can he bring home the bacon, but he can also fry it up in a pan, and still remind me on a daily basis that he is, indeed, a man.**


The dark-chocolate fondue is gooey and ready to go! Doesn't this just scream "BACON!"


Let the dipping begin, people! (Pay no attention to my nasty hair. Stop it! I said pay no attention!)


I know what you're thinking. "Is she constipated? Is she cutting a big one? Is she going to barf? WHAT?!?" What's happening is that I'm reconciling the salty, meaty, slightly-burnt goodness of the bacon with the sweet, gooey goodness of the chocolate. People? Hershey's and Mars need to market this as an impulse-candy-buy that you nuke before eating so that it's warm when it hits your tongue. Because this? Was the pork-y, sweet, chocolate-y, salty equivalent of crack. I'm sure of it!


The Ty-man finally gave in and tried some. His verdict? "Yep. That tastes like chocolate-covered bacon." Well, no shit Sherlock. But it's AWESOME! RIGHT?!? My husband, the king of understatement.


So the verdict from our maison? Two thumbs up, baby.*** Git sum!

*Thought about doing a video, but I hate my voice. Sorry peeps.
**Yes, folks, he did say that. And told me to tell you all. I love my dorky hubby.
***That's one thumb from me and one from Ty-man. He was taking the picture and couldn't hold up his thumb. And I? Was holding my fourth piece of chocolate-covered crack. I wasn't about to drop it for a second thumb-up.

Not Here Today

I'm not here today. I'm over at Avitable's joint. He was in St. Croix with no Internet access (read: Adam Heath's personal circle of Hell). Now? I think he's home. And recovering. Instead of pre-writing his own posts (lazy-ass pussy) he solicited several of us spineless wimps to write for him. Solicited meaning he e-mailed incriminating stick figure drawings of each of us. Mine is there to the left. So, I have paid him back in kind with pictures of my own.

Want to see them? Then get there. Fast. Before Al Gore, Creator of the Internet, has them removed.

Spotted... What?

A while back, my buddy Adam Heath Avitable fulfilled a boyhood dream when a friend sent him a package of Turkish Delight. You know, that stuff that Edmund in The Lion, The Witch, and The Wardrobe goes nuts for, the stuff the White Witch uses to entice Edmund. When it's described in the book, it just sounds sooooo good. Well, according to Avitable, the actual Turkish Delight was horrible, as was the follow-up experience with chocolate-covered Turkish Delight.

So, what did I learn from this experience? British snack food cannot be trusted.

Have I heeded this lesson learned through Avitable? No.

Enter spotted dick.


Oh, yes. I kid you not. Raisin sponge pudding is called "spotted dick." I so couldn't pass this up.


The instructions are to insert a knife between the edge of the pudding and the can, run the knife around the pudding (and it's not even a pudding as we Americans imagine pudding - it's a cake, you nutter Brits - CAKE!), plop it out on a plate, and pop it into the microwave for two minutes.


Yeah, that's Mom, who was kind enough to participate in this ill-fated venture. She's not too sure.

The first taste?


Meh.

Mom's opinion?

Meh².

Bland. Totally bland as hell. Only the Brits could make a raisin sponge cake, call it pudding, name is after a diseased sexual organ, and after all that, make it taste like crap.

So, the aftermath?


I can honestly say that I'm good if I never have another bite of spotted dick, especially spotted dick from a can (wow, that sounds nasty), in my life.

Avitable? Back to you.

Power Lunch?

So, we're down here in Orlando, waiting to do the one thing two supergeeks like us have waited our whole lives to do. We're here to see a shuttle launch, people! Just one teensy-weensy, itsy-bitsy, motherf@#$ing shuttle launch! That's all we ask! This is our second attempt! Yeah, shuttle didn't launch.

Please.

Bastards launched the Challenger almost 22 years ago, knowing the Morton Thiokol-manufactured o-rings were defective in freezing temperatures, yet won't launch Atlantis because a hydrogen fuel gauge is on the blink. Kick the friggin' thing, for chrissakes! Pussies...

So, what do supergeeks do when a shuttle launch is canceled? Well, you hook up with the wife's blogger buddies while the husband mumbles under his breath, "Probably serial killers, internet sex freaks. Can't believe we're doing this. Mumble, mumble, mumble." Well, I told him to get over it and we hooked up with Adam and Britt of Avitable and Miss Britt fame. And what a lunch it was! Adam was pretty quiet, taking it all in, sucking down Diet Coke as if his life depended on it (He was probably worried that either Ty-man or I might attack him with a fork and hold him for ransom. Shuh!) and Britt and I gabbed on about kids, motherhood, politics, abortion, baby names, and such (Whew! Forehead-swipe!), with Ty-man interjecting from time to time. We found out what they do for a living (Adam tortures Britt on a daily basis), that Adam has a dog named Jigsaw, and that Britt left a few drool spots on my iPhone (still trying to get those off). It was a fun hour and a half and ended all too soon. And, yes, Ty-man quite enjoyed himself.

Adam, you're a trip even when you're quiet and Britt, you looked great, hon, despite lack of makeup or what you were wearing. Thank you both for the hook up and hope we can do it again someday!

Oh, and? Want to see their versions of the lunch? Click here and here.