Corbin's True Love

Many of you may think that I am Corbin's true love. However, you are all wrong. Corbin's first love is chocolate soufflé. Now most of you are thinking, "Understandable. It's ok for Alice to be Corbin's second love." But I am not even his second love; cream puffs are his second love. I do come in third...I think.

Tonight Corbin made cream puffs. I played with the cat.

I think when we have kids, I will not read them the story of the little red hen. No use teaching them an ideal that I won't ever live by to teach them by example. Yes, I was the lazy cat who watched as the little red hen (Corbin) slaved away in the kitchen. Unlike the story, the little red hen in my house offered me a cream puff when they were done. Unfortunately for me, I wasn't in the kitchen while he filled my cream puff. Without being the wiser, I took a bite into a cream puff wherein the delicious filling exploded onto my face, into my hand, and luckily some of it managed to get into my mouth.

Corbin's cream puffs truly were divine. The recipe is compliments of Martha Stewart. As we admired Corbin's handiwork, we noticed we had a cream puff that resembled a living creature in our house. No, not Corbin. It was Papel! We should try to sell it on eBay with a tag line of "Replica of the Virgin Mother's Cat." I bet we could get a fortune.

NEXT PROJECT: Piñata filled with jalapeño slices

I am now the proud owner of more jalapeño slices than can be consumed in one lifetime. Thank you, Costco.

I was lured into buying the 1 gallon jar of jalapeño slices by the incredibly low price of $4. Truthfully, they were for a youth activity which involved nachos and dodge ball. [Note: Separating the two activities in either time or space greatly decreases clean up time.] Somehow, I thought thirteen year old girls would eat at least 12-16 oz. of jalapeños each. I was sorely mistaken.

In fact, the jalapeños seemed to be blessed in much the same manner as the loaves and fishes of New Testament fame. We had dished out some of the jalapeños into a bowl for easier serving. At the end of the night I went to return the remaining few jalapeños back to the vat from whence they came and, Glory glory!, they wouldn't all fit! I put the lid on and some of the juices leaked out because the barrel was too full. I was sure I had witnessed the multiplication of the jalapeños. So I started calling them Holypeños.

But it may have turned out to be more of a curse. Perhaps the Great Señor Carlos in the sky sensed Alice's ingratitude at having to take home a full hog's head of pickled peppers. Whatever the cause, peppery vinegar leaked out on the ride home and the noisome juice must have seeped into the trunk carpet. Alice now fights nausea every time the trunk is opened.

Meanwhile, I have to find something to do with the blessed Holypeños before they contaminate our fridge. I'm expecting the 'Either the Holypeños go, or I go!' speech from my usually passive wife sometime in the near future. But I have a hard time throwing things away. Especially divine mexican condiments.

So I think I may have found a solution: Deep Fried Holypeño Slices. I can't wait to try these things out. I'm gonna glut myself on pickled peppers made gloriously golden through the magic of deep frying. Oh, FryDaddy! Is there anything you cannot fix? These bite-size beauts are very versatile. Dip them in processed cheese and surgically insert them directly into your arteries. Or sprinkle them on your yogurt and eat them for breakfast. Pure delish.

If you don't hear from me for a while, I'm either still gorging myself on delectably fiery deep fried Holypeños, or I'm in the hospital recovering from a colon transplant. Either way, it's going to be a great weekend.

The eminent decline of American education

As depressing as it is, American youth are not preforming good in many standard school subjects. We all remember the valiaum crusader for geographical education, the indeflatable Miss Teen South Carolina. Here is a glimpse of one of the misdirected youth that caused such a strong, yet completely warranted response from the beauty queen.

The young person in this film doesn't even know where Paraguay is. Or Jabooty (sp?), for that matter. If that is in fact a real country (which I highly doubt), our kids need to know where it is. We are all on the fast track to economic ruin if we can't teach our kids to do better than this.



P.S. I'd like to see this kid point out the different countries in real life, not just on a map. While flying over them in an airplane, for instance. Not so easy without borders or color coding, is it?

Winter came early to SoCal - HUGE STORM!

This past weekend we had a horrendous storm pass over the usually blue skies of San Diego. Luckily we were prepared, thanks to numerous and early warnings from the news media and meteorologists. Apparently, a large cold front made it's way down from Canada and swept along the coast, leaving a wake of destruction. It terrorized Californians all the way from San Francisco to San Diego.

The odd thing about this storm is that we don't usually get storms this early. Winter will sometimes bring the occasional storm, but not usually until well into November. This year, Motha' Naytcha' was pissed, and she took out her anger on the peace loving Sunshine State. (I've decided Florida doesn't deserve that nickname so I'm taking it back for California. Besides 'Golden State' fits Florida much better, as most of its inhabitants are in their golden years.)

Alice and I braced ourselves for the worst, and we are glad to still be alive and blogging. I will recount some of the more harrowing details of the fateful storm.

Driving home Friday, the radio news program warns of the impending storm. Alice and I stop by the grocery store on the way home to pick up bread and other staples in case we have to huddle under our bed for a few days.

Friday night we try to distract ourselves by watching Survivor online. If there is a city wide blackout, we want to get our media fix to tide us over through the outage.

We stay awake until the wee hours of 11pm in order to witness the raw power of the approaching apocalypse. We contemplate unplugging all electronic devices and boarding up our windows, but we are too lazy.

We fall asleep, huddled together in our bed, unsure if society will still be there when we wake up, or if anarchy will have taken over in the aftermath of the storm of the century. The temperature plummets in the night to a frigid 60 degrees, giving me cause to consider shutting our bedroom window. But I shrug off the concern and pull the light blanket back over my body and go back to sleep.

We wake up and take in the devastation. All around us, everything is covered in a thin layer of water! The streets, the cars, even the deck furniture by the pool. The devastation is unbelievable. We check the lights to see if we still have power. I was sure that all that water must have shorted out the power lines, and even electrocuted anybody unlucky or foolish enough to step in the dangerous puddles that dotted the ground here and there. (Water can not only drown a person, but it also conducts electricity very well, making it even that much more dangerous in a city full of electricity.) Miracle of miracles! The power is still on.


We turn on the radio to get a full estimate of the damage. Sure enough, the news reports are rife with warnings and cautions. 'Be careful driving out there! The roads are WET!' 'Spotty rain is slowing down the traffic on 'the five' all the way from Del Mar to La Jolla!' 'Reports of light to very light rain have been coming in from ALL OVER the county!'

Needless to say, it was a very stressful weekend. I'm glad that storm is over and we're back to our 77 degree weather. I just hope we can make it through this winter if that's the kind of storm global warming will make a regular occurrence.

Survivor China - It's getting Hot Soup in here

We got together with some of our friends to kick off the Survivor season. This year they are in China. We have a little Survivor tradition going where we each pick three people and depending on how long they last, you get points. Whoever has the most points at the end of the season gets a prize.

After picking our Survivors, a lively debate sprung up regarding two of the females on the show. Matt Weed said that Jaime was much hotter than Amanda, while EVERYONE else thought the opposite. I mean, every single other person in the whole entire group thought Matt was crazy. But he wouldn't back down. So we are widening the vote to you, our readers. Please vote for who you think is better looking in the poll to the right.

Baby Oil

My beautiful wife attributes her youthful visage to her daily moisturizing with baby oil. Actually, she uses the oil to remove her eye makeup. But she says the moisturizing effects have kept her enchanting windows-to-the-soul free from surrounding wrinkles.

Although I am ever grateful for her stunning beauty and the pleasure of drowning in the dark pools of her eyes every day, I can't help but wonder what is the true cost. Just how many babies do they have to squeeze to get one bottle of baby oil? I would think that we could come up with better uses for those babies. I just wanted to open a forum for discussion on this very important issue.

Do you wear normal clothes?

As many of you know, Tom, my brother, is on a mission. He's serving in the Utah Provo Mission. He only has about 6 months left. So until he returns to civilian life, we will post comments on our blog on his behalf. Perhaps this will inspire our readers to be better missionaries. Here's his first featured post in response to my question, "Do you wear normal clothes?"

***************************

Well as a missionary we have a standardized wardrobe. Our daily attire consists of slacks with a white shirt, tie and dress shoes. This makes life rather simple as to what to wear. I wish I had a picture of my closet on me because all it consists of is a whole bunch of white shirts.

In this specific mission we don't necessarily have p-day clothes. There are only a couple of exceptions to the rule of standardized apparel. The first is exersizing (aka sports) in the mornings and on p-day and the second is service. I prefer the second because I don't like waking up at five thirty to play basketball even though we do it once or twice a week. This rule is kept mostly because there are soo many members here where "every member a mission president" or as I like to add in mostly because of experience an emeritus general authority.

Well the dress code does not allow much to differentiate throughout the week. Pretty much the only thing that changes is the tie. That is why ties are an essential commodity to mission life. There are three types of ties.
1- The totally awesome cool ties that you will probably end up taking home - these are the ones that always have stuff spilt on them.

2- The way totally ugly ones that are cool that you wouldn't be caught dead wearing at home but wear just because you can.

3- The ones that are just like why did anyone ever buy that in the first place with ununique designs and just not good- these are used to go tracting in the desert or rain or mud and are meant to be destroyed or burnt.

Finally missionary apparel allows for shoes consisting of the colors of black brown or cordovan. I wear brown, this works great when you serve in the middle of a desert and they dont actually put sidewalks in anywhere. Far less shining and they still look good. I prefer the ones with no laces because its just that much easier. Even with laces I never untied them. I think I would have cordovan shoes except for the fact that I have no clue what cordovan is. I think my companion might have some except we both dont know what it is.

Well hopefully that answered your question as to whether or not I wear normal clothes. For me these are normal clothes, but for your standards, only occasionally. In fact I have only have one pair of shorts and then I have one pair of sweat pants for when its cold. I usually sleep in one or the other.

****************************

Does anyone know what cordovan is??? You will win a roll of bounty paper towels if you can answer. See a previous post entitled "Cat Vomit and Bounty Paper Towels" to understand how valuable Bounty paper towels are if you're thinking, "she's cheap," 'cuz I'm totally not.

In memorium of the skunk

Alice and I like to do tongue twisters. But I can't go into much detail because this is a family blog.

We also like to try to say difficult rhymes fast.

Enjoy!

Avast, ye scurvy dogs! 'Tis Talk Like A Pirate Day!

Arrrr! Ye scallywags be worse than black spotted if'n ye didn't remember. Prepare to be broadsided by Cap'n Corbin Bloodbucket! An' let no land-lubber shame these here hallowed pages with their filthy bilge swill. Unless they be saucy wenches. Then 'tis right and true to allow parley.

An' be mighty sure to fill the commentin' part clear to the top o' the crow's nest with yer preferred phrases o' the sea.

Ten more reasons I am better than the cat

1. I've never pooped in the bathtub, except for that time...I mean, I've never pooped in the bathtub.
2. I can usually refrain from licking myself when we have company over.
3. I can use a fork (which may soon no longer be a distinction if Alice figures out how the lady in the video did that).
4. I can do calculus.
5. When I bite people's legs, it's because they asked me to.
6. I still have my claws.
7. I have a blog.
8. I don't have to wear a tag around my neck with my address on it in case I get lost. I can keep my tag on a bracelet.
9. I'm never scared to enter a Chinese restaurant.
10. I still have my boys.

My Week with the Cat

Yes, another blog featuring cat information. But there's nothing else to write about when my sweetheart is gone. Corbin has been in Santa Barbara doing research since Monday. He returns home tonight! I have learned absence does make the heart grow fonder. Additionally, his mere presence fills me with life. This week I've been a lazy cat feeling completely lifeless without my Corbin. I'm so glad he'll be back soon.

My week without Corbin has been very unproductive and I haven't nearly ate as well as I do when he's around. Below is a list of my post-work activities and dinner.

• Monday - I went to the mall and bought some new clothes to fill my loneliness. It sort of worked. Ate left over eggplant Parmesan. Felt a little guilty for buying stuff while my house was a mess so washed some dishes. The house is still a mess. Watched Intolerable Cruelty until I passed out.
• Tuesday - I returned unopened food that I bought for a Young Women's activity and went to Target and bought shampoo. Ate a grilled cheese sandwich. The house is still a mess but who cares? Watched the Prestige until I passed out.
• Wednesday - Went to a Young Women's activity. Ate a grilled cheese sandwich. The house is still a mess and I really don't care. Came home and watched the Long Long Trailer staring Lucille Ball until I passed out.
• Thursday - Cleaned the house...finally something productive. Corbin comes home and now I care :) Ate a disappointing frozen pizza from Trader Joe's. Watched Down with Love until I passed out.

While Papel can be a good companion, he is certainly no replacement to Corbin. Here's why:

1. Papel cries, Corbin does not. As soon as I walk into the door, the crying begins and does not stop until he's fed. One day I seriously thought about recording it and posting it to prove just how loud and long he can cry. His cries went on for some time. Apparently it wasn't acceptable for me to go to the bathroom after a long day of being chained to my desk. After feeding him, he's content as he gulps down his dinner. Following the meal, he cleans himself, sits on the deck and then comes back inside and begins to cry again. Now he's bored and wants to play. And I'm tired and missing my sweetheart, so I ignore him and...see point #2.
2. Papel sneaks up on me, Corbin does too...but I like it when he does :) For those of you who don't know, I'm visually impaired. I normally wear contact lenses. At night I take them out. Just before falling asleep, I become paranoid that I may not have locked the front door. So I drag myself out of bed and stumble into the living room. Just as I'm about to pass the couch to check the front door, out jumps Papel, who I can't see because it's dark and I'm visually impaired. He's reared up on his hind legs with his front legs waving and his mouth open. I walk right into him unknowingly and his front legs wrap around my leg and he begins to playfully bite my leg. I'm practically asleep and blind and all I know is something fury and pointy is on my leg. So I shake him off and try to restore my heart rate and breathing.
3. Papel hogs the bed, Corbin can be pushed out of the bed if necessary. Papel sleeps with us every night. He typically sleeps right where I would put my feet if I were to lie straight on my side of the bed. It's very difficult to push him out of the way so I end up sleeping diagonally with my feet ontop of Corbin's. I thought with Corbin gone, I'd at least get more space in bed. I was mistaken. Papel continued to lie down in the same spot. And silly me, so did I. Apparently without Corbin I also loose some level of intelligence and problem solving skills.

I would write more, but my lunch hour is over and I have to return to work. Stay tuned for a post on our reunion.

Rebuttle: My Job is Still Best

Our blog on Thursday, featuring Zac's comments regarding who has the best job contained some striking commentary. I was ALMOST convinced his job is better than mine when he reminded me of the hot dog vendors...they are one of my favorite things about DC. However, i thought of a few "perks" he didn't mention. I feel my readers need to know the truth so they are not misled into thinking Zac has the best job.

1) Zac's commute lasts 2 hours ONE WAY, a round trip total (for those mathematically challenged) of 4 hours. My commute is 15 minutes one way. While I may not have any dependents to welcome me home (although I think I will begin lobbying for making pets dependents and I bet I will win in the great state of California; we did elect the Terminator as governor), I am not wasting away my life in a train, bus, and car.

2) DC is HOT. Forgive me for my excessive use of capital letters, but I want it to be well understood that DC is indeed very hot. Prior to it becoming our capital city it was a beautiful plot of swamp land replete with mosquitoes and disease. The swamp is gone but the mosquitoes still torment native and visitor alike.

3) Zac works with hardcore criminals that would drill him in the knee if they had the opportunity (a guy Zac works with actually drilled someone in several locations on his body). Zac thinks this is cool but really he just says that so he can try to sleep at night knowing these criminals are out there and could very well learn of his whereabouts if they ever get out of prison. I, on the other hand, work for a company where we send "love, not like." Over 90 percent of our cards include the word "love" in them. My efforts at work provide opportunities for people around the country to send tokens of love.

4) One of the reasons why I get paid less is so that Zac can get paid. While I love Zac and don't want him and his family on the streets, the simple fact of the matter is that taxpayers don't have to pay to keep me employed. So in other words, I'm not draining society :)

In conclusion, my job is still best, not Zac's.

Pimpin' is for (w)ussies

From a purely evolutionary point of view, pimpin' is a stupid move. The driving instinct in all organisms is to pass on their specific set of genes to the next generation. And to out compete all the other organisms of the same species at this 'game'. But pimpin' does almost the exact opposite. Pimps aid other men in passing on copies of their genes while the pimp's genes are not passed on (a pregnancy would interfere with business).

Although in today's society, there seem to be two routes taken in order to spread one's genetic heritage. One is monogamy. The other, straight sluttin'.

Monogamy: The evolutionary benefits of monogamy are phenomenal. A family with two parents are more likely to be able to provide for the physical and emotional needs of the children. The father can work to put food on the table and the mother can nourish the children emotionally. Or vice versa, for you anti-gender role crowd. These children will be more likely to grow up to start families of their own where they can provide for the well being of future generations. Over time, monogamous tendencies are selected for.

Sluttin': This is the quick and dirty approach (no pun intended). Get as many women pregnant as possible before you die of syphilighonoherpes simplex HIV. (As a side note, some sexually transmitted diseases increase your sex drive to promote more spreading of the disease. Viruses work hard at spreading their genes, too.) You don't have to stick around to make sure the kids have enough to eat. The sheer numbers of your offspring out there should make up for the ones that don't make it.

Anyway, I'm sure you are all familiar with these evolutionary strategies. For some reason, I was just thinking about them and how pimpin' fit in. So how does pimpin' fit in with the evolutionary pressures? I don't know. Just like I don't really know where this post is going. All I know is that pimpin' is for suckas. All positive aspects of society come from us suppressing our instincts, or the 'natural man'. So the next time you instinctively reach for that pimp cup and diamond grill, just say 'Pimpin' is for (w)ussies'. (But if you're hell bent on pimpin', you'll need a pimptastic name. Get yourself one here.)

Yours truly,
Fadeproof C. Rock

Front page worthy comment

Since the Musical Chairs post is already a few days old, comments are less likely to be read. But this recent comment is good enough to have it's very own post so I'm pulling it to the front page. Plus, this saves me from having to write my own post and I still get credit for updating the ol' bloggity blog. And if you look really hard, you might find the inspiration for the bacon 'stache. Although I must admit, Zac could take a few lessons from me on 'the look'.

Zac said...

Musical Chairs? Are you serious? What happened to the good ol' company softball team? Pro Flowers had to opt for a lame-o childs game to make you feel like part of "the team" and then it denied you a measly $100 prize when the company is making money hand over fist? Sounds like you got punked.

On the other hand, my job is the shiznit. Not only do I have access to the Bureau of Prisons database (I was among the first to know where Moutha Stewart was going to do her time), but I also get to interact with some of the biggest snitches in the nation, including former mafia God Fathers, Aryan Brotherhood commissioners, and MS-13 turncoats. If that isn't enough, I get to work in the capital city of the greatest country in the world, where it is a regular occurance to see motorcades of politicians (who, incidentally, are also some of the biggest crooks), diplomats, foreign dignitaries, and even the President of the United States clogging up the very streets on which I drive to and from work. Even Borat made an apperance at the nearby "Kazak" embasy before walking to the White House to demand a meeting with the President.

Need I mention the hot dog vendors on every corner who curiously remain in their portable, toiletless kiosks all day long without ever leaving and with no sink to wash their hands? I have decided that these super human vendors must be equiped with very large bladders or posessed by demons. The latter would not be surprising considering the controversay over the satanic and masonic symbols evident in the layout of the streets of our Nation's Capital.

Speaking of the Masons, I bet your SD doesn't have the House of the Temple, Head Quarters of the Supreme Council of the 33rd Degree of Freemasonry. Masons come from all over the world to this edifice to receive their 33rd Degree initiation. But they arent the only ones who flock to this great city.

Thousands of people pay their way to visit Washington DC every year, whereas you and all your tax paying friends pay me to come to DC every day. Although you might get to attend the occasional baseball game because the sport is so boring that they can't sell out the stadium and have to resort to giving corporations like Pro Flowers discounts on the nosebleed sections, I get to work in a city where every museum is free. So rather than spending several hours wondering when something exciting in baseball will happen, or trying to understand the difference between NASCAR and Funnycar, I can stroll into a building full of artifacts covering just about any topic interesting to anyone with a pulse. If that doesn't have you convinced, consider that one day during every summer, Ben and Jerry's offers free ice cream all day long to anyone visiting the old post office building.

I'm not sure if it's the Coffee Toffee ice cream or the miriad possibilities of thought provoking entertainment that has people lining up to visit the city where I work, but I do know that you wont find people lining up outside the doors of Pro Flowers to get a shot at that musical chair prize.

And, last time I checked, Uncle Sam isn't giving out any deductions for having a cat, so please accept a heartfelt thank you from the bottom of my heart for contributing more of your taxable income (which hopefully includes that prize money) to make possible my prestigious postiion.

Besides, I have my own team of musical chair players and I could play every evening if I wanted to. Let me be the first to tell you that it gets dull quite fast. There comes a point when they couldn't pay you to play another round. Instead, you should try taking up a sport with a little more thrill and skill in it like water skiing, which I am able to do quite regularly during the summer months.

In conclusion, you might get free flowers and a few nights of baseball boredom, but my job is better.

P.S. I grow my own flowers, because, yes, I am that good.

Weekend to end all weeks

***Disclaimer: This post is a mostly factual account of our weekend and contains very few (if any) humorous or interesting bits. Proceed with CAUTION.***

Labor day weekend. Alice and I celebrated by laboring diligently...to PARTY like it was a national holiday!

We started our weekend off with a short camping trip up to Lake Jennings. It was hotter than reheated H-E-double hockey stick up there. We drove up there Friday evening with Matthew and Malerie Weed and Peter and Rachel Hawkins. Had a little tin foil dinner, a little peach cobbler, a little oppressive, mind-melting heat, and unfortunately, no swim in the lake (it is a drinking water reservoir and the rangers are apparently familiar with some of my more unsavory swimming habits). This campsite was unusual in that it is situated in between several neighborhoods and a Jack-in-the-box. There was also an elementary school style playground right next to our site. But the camp atmosphere was restored with a few burning pallets and dutch oven cooking.

Then we drove the 2o min back to our place the next morning. We polished off Saturday with a little stint at the temple.

The Hawkins invited us over for dinner on Sunday so after church we made a berry upside-down cake to bring with us. Alice found the recipe in Better Homes and Gardens. I didn't realize it was in the 'Healthy Food' section until it was too late. I was already half way through mixing the batter. I loudly proclaimed that there was no way this cake could taste good, coming from the 'Healthy Food' section. Alice mostly ignored my complaints. It didn't turn out too bad. Not our best dessert, but still edible. The Hawkins made a meat lovers pizza and a pesto pizza with pears, prosciutto and Gorgonzola. We washed them down with virgin Sangria and ginger ale.

On Monday we packed in as many activities as is humanly possible in order to maximize the unofficial last day of summer. I got up at 5:30 and went surfing. Then we went to the zoo for two hours with the Weeds, the Hawkins, and Nick and Jenny Wegner. We saw a polar bear fight and swamp monkeys picking on an otter (monkeys are apparently mischievous in real life as well as in cartoons). Then we went to the Original Pancake House, which is not actually the original Pancake House, but merely one of many copies in a chain of restaurants all claiming to be the original. The food was superb, even if it wasn't original.


To the beach we ventured next. Soaking up some cosmic rays and being healed by mother nature, as Malibu would say (thanks for the link, 84rkr). A little body surfing was done under the tutelage of Matt Weed, a semi-pro body surfer well known for his incredible distance.

After the beach, we all came back to our place for Matt and Malerie's signature homemade ice cream. After a long weekend with the Hawkins and the Weeds, we probably know each other too well. Alice thinks I'm lucky they are still talking to us after some of my shenanigans.

It's hard to come back to work after an action packed weekend like the one we just had. But Alice pointed out a silver lining: our offices have air conditioning. Alice is considering putting a Costanza cot under her desk to avoid sleeping in our stifling apartment. Maybe she can make it a double cot.

P.S. Thanks to Matthew for the fine pics.