Tennessee Titans Turd Butter aka Oreo Butter

SAMSUNGI will call this creation Tennessee Titans Turd Butter on game days and just Tennessee Turd Butter during the off season. Before you go all proper on me and declare me repugnant, yecchy, nauseating, or any other word that appears under “disgusting” in a thesaurus, hear me out. This tiny blob of turd-looking matter is really Oreo Butter. It is quite possibly worse than crack. To make it, dump a cup and a half of honey roasted nuts, 12 Oreos, and a teeny bit of vegetable oil in your food processor and then zap it until it is a turdy texture. Then, you smear it on graham crackers. OMG it is good. Tennessee Titans Turd Butter will make an appearance at my next tailgating appearance. Feel free to invite me to your pre-game festivities and I will share.

The Big Heads Like No Pageants in Paris!

beautypagent

I’m not going to mince words here. I have a big head.  I basically have a fivehead instead of a forehead. Today I was reminded of one of the funnier stories relating to my humongous head via a news story floating its way across the pond from France.  Turns out France has banned beauty pageants for children under 16.  The news of this ban brought forth memories of my stint as a Little Miss Tullahoma contestant.  I competed several years. Each of those years, my mom would sew me a new dress, tease my hair to new heights, dab a little lipstick on my lips and off we’d go. Upon registration, each contestant received a cardboard crown covered in glitter. I had a thing for tiaras so I was all about this cardboard crown!  Most of the time the cardboard crown was too small for my head, yet I always managed to balance it on my head.  One year, my mom teased my hair so big that the cardboard crown wouldn’t stay in place. It kept sliding off my head while I was on stage. I started crying. Needless to say, I didn’t win that year……….. or any other year for that matter. Despite it all,  I have very fond memories preparing for the pageant with my mom.  I have to say though that I dig France’s choice to ban pageants for kids.  Young self esteems are F-R-A-G-I-L-E!  #throwbackthursday

The Lucky Pavarotti Cricket

pavarottiecricket

Behold! It’s the Pavarotti cricket.  His song is beautiful and loud, but who the hell can sleep when an operatic bug is chirping at 3 a.m.? He has been hanging out near my bedroom for the past week.  Each morning, with bleary sleep-deprived eyes, I have tried to find the Pavarotti cricket for relocation purposes.  My search and rescue attempts have repeatedly been thwarted.  This morning, I lost my temper.  I took the vacuum cleaner and began angrily slamming it repeatedly everywhere I thought the Pavarotti cricket was performing.  At some point I quit. I quit because a voice in my head said, “crickets are lucky and you need the luck.”   I put the vacuum down and was greeted with silence.  Breathing a heavy sigh of relief, I headed back to my bedroom.  Just as I was getting comfortable…………….. mrrp Nessun mrrp dorma! mrrp Nessun dorma! Mrrp Tu pure, o Principessa mrrrp.  Yep. The Pavarotti cricket survived the attack of the crazy woman with the vacuum.  And then it happened.  A second cricket started amorously responding to the Pavarotti cricket.  Then I said to myself, “Figures I’d get THAT kind of lucky Pavarotti cricket.”

Would You Like Mutinous Fries With That?

SAMSUNG

Would You Like Mutinous Fries With That?

There are three types of to-go fries: the hitchhiker fry (today’s photo), mutinous fry, and indoctrinated fry. The hitchhiker fry is a potato patriot. This is the fry that hops in the fast food bag at the last minute hoping to get a free ride out of Fast Food Hell. The mutinous fry (or fries because quite often this type involves more than one) jumps out of the fry container once it has been placed in the bag. This fry seeks independence from the other fries. Hitchhiker and mutinous fries are true freedom fries. Indoctrinated fries are the actual fries in the container. They get eaten first and do what nature intended them to do. Here’s the thing. If there’s not at least one hitchhiker/mutinous fry in the bottom of my fast food bag when I finish………….I feel cheated. Am I alone? Hitchhiker/mutinous fries add excitement. Finding that extra fry is like Christmas Fry Morning. To all of the hitchhiker/mutinous fries of this world, I salute you!