...Everywhere Are Signs...

My commute generally runs between 45 minutes to an hour.  It's not my favorite part of the day.  I have to amuse myself somehow so I don't roll into work in a crappy mood.  I've listened to comedy recordings since I began cancer treatment so I would not be consumed with worry before those doctor visits.  I decided if they got me through that, they could get me through a daily commute.  Some days, however, the comedy writes itself in the things I observe along the road.

There's been rather a lot of construction along my route.  As you'd imagine it slows things more than normal rush hour traffic.  It adds a lot of signage too.

One day as I was crawling along in bumper to bumper traffic I came across this sign.  I was feeling tense from avoiding impatient maniacs on the road so I thought, "Great!  I could really use a good shoulder massage.  My traps are so tight!"

I wasn't concerned about penalties.  I have worked with several very professional massage therapists so I know proper draping prevents any unintentional flashing.  I was getting excited now.  I'd be so relaxed by the time I arrived at work nothing would rattle me.

Then I saw this sign.  Wait!  What?  Back up just a second here! No one even started on my shoulders yet!  Way to get me anticipating  some relaxation then make me do a U-turn.  I was feeling as if false promises had been made and I was none too happy about it.

Fortunately I passed this sign.  So I guess all hope of some sort of help unwinding wasn't lost.

Universe Implosion Averted

A couple of weeks ago I post my Marital Madness Meme. After said post, Suldog made the following comment:

It's positively scary how much your answers to those questions match the very ones I would have given. Even though I definitely still want to have that drink with you next time you're in the area, it's probably best if we never meet. I think the universe might implode.

I responded with an email letting him know I'd be in town this past weekend and asking if he wanted to test the hypothesis. Yeah, I live dangerously. Apparently so does Suldog because he agreed to meet for the sake of the advancement of science. He brought his wife. I brought my cousin and her son. I'd like to say you can thank them for buffering the insanity (and thus averting disaster) that was the meeting of Suldog and Lime but I think that may give them undue credit for levels of sanity they have not achieved themselves. Mrs. Suldog has a hilariously dry wit and it's easy to see why she is so beloved by her husband. She was also sweet enough to wear a lime green shirt and beads in my honor. Now how cool is that? She's kind of shy about her picture being on the interwebs though so I can offer no evidence of such. Just extrapolate by elongating the forehead below into a full face and an attractive female form wearing a lime green shirt and beads. Please imagine her fully clothed as well. I don't think she'd want you imagining her wearing only a shirt and beads. I mean really, we were in public and she's a classy lady.


As for my cousin...well...you've already seen this picture but I'll post it again in case you forgot. Are those the faces of well balanced individuals or escaped mental patients?


With grownups like that around there's really very little hope for future generations. I'll pause while you weep. Pssst, Jacob, quick! While they are distracted you can wipe your fingers on the chair. Personally, I think it's darned impressive that he has not only one but both fingers in up to the first knuckle.

Ok, so we have established that this was a dangerous gathering of minds at the Pleasant Cafe. Even the waitress was a little dangerous. I asked for water with extra lemon and she more than delivered.


I have to say the food was as delicious as Suldog promised. We all had a great time together. Yummy food, good conversation, lots of laughs. As Suldog put it, it was the nicest lunch with relative strangers who seemed more like strange relatives. As a bonus, the universe did not implode, as evidenced by your ability to read this while you sit there in your bathrobe or as you avoid doing any real work.




In the name of scientific exploration we also determined the chemical effects of combining too much lemon with Lime.


In the area of rhetoric we also disproved the adage, "You can pick your friends, you can pick your nose. But you can't pick your friend's nose." If you wish to contribute to further scientific research Suldog and I will accept cash or paypal. Of course, mere expressions of gratitude for the suppression of universal implosion are also welcome.

Slice of Lime-Time to Make the Fastnachts

DISCLAIMER: Viewing of the following video clips may be a hazard to your health. Creating them was certainly a hazardous undertaking considering the sleep deprivation endured and the presence of boiling oil. Do not attempt to recreate these scenes at home. The filmmaker is highly untrained and just look what happened to her! Viewing these scenes or overindulging in fastnachts may result in delirium, tics and twitches, brain damage, simple chronic halitosis, acne, psychosis, beri beri, tingling in the earlobes, severe nostril cramps, and terminal nail fungus. Erections lasting over 4 hours should be referred to the blog author immediately.


As you know, on Tuesday I got up well before dawn to fry up Fastnachts for Fat Tuesday. If that's not shocking enough to those who know how much I hate early mornings, prepare to be amazed. I also filmed the process in segments all so you lovely people could bask in the horror of my very unlovely 4 am self. Of course I am assuming you all are fans of horror. I apologize to those readers/viewers possessing a more delicate constitution. There are 5 videos because I have no idea whatsoever how to edit them into a single clip but don't worry, they are all mercifully brief. So without further ado...



Good grief, check the bags under those eyes...and the squint. Look away!

Next, the rolling and cutting.

Such eloquence, really. And I am sure Grammy did not use a New York Giants Pilsner glass being the temperate woman she was.

And now, ladies and gentlemen, she fires them. This is a truly death defying feat as she scoops fastnachts into the hot oil with one hand and works the camera with the other. What was she thinking? It was before dawn...she wasn't thinking at all...except perhaps, "Oh, my bed would feel sooooo nice right now." But on the upside, she's finally got more than dime slits for eyes.

Little did I know any nausea induced by the camera work would be far exceeded by the wretched indigestion after eating a bunch of these for breakfast and throughout the day. I now know what it feel like to digest bricks.


Here is the 25 second clip that will horrify the well mannered everywhere.
I demonstrate the edibility of the fastnachts and talk with a mouthful. That Lime, she is one classy chick.

In defense of my sense of decorum, I at least put a bra on before coming into the kitchen. I could say it was for the sake of propriety but really it is because the pain associated with accidentally deep frying my nipples if I leaned over the frying pan was a greater motivator.


Finally, after I was awake for a few hours and had a chance to make myself presentable I evaluate the results. Basically I figured if I was going to put up those earlier and far more horrific clips I had to end with something where I at least looked like a member of the human race.

To add further commentary, the excessive number of fastnachts I consumed wound up sitting in my gut like doughy bricks for the rest of the day. It was generally agreed at House of Lime that this was not a highly successful Fat Tuesday as les bontemps did not rouler when it came to fastnachts. Live and learn...