Going out to Eat with Beloved Curmudgeon

As I write this, my Beloved Curmudgeon is watching one of Clint Eastwood's spaghetti westerns. I don't know which one. Does it matter? They all have the same characters, are filmed in the same place and have the same music.

I am often blogging with any one of those movies playing in the background. Our lives are exciting that way.

We had some real excitement today. I'll tell you about it.

My Beloved Curmudgeon asked me on a date. He said, 'I haven't had a good steak in a long time, wanna go get one for lunch?'. My heart fluttered at the romance of it and I said that yes, I would like to do that! This conversation transpired first thing this morning, so I had a while to get my mouth set for a good juicy red steak. By lunch time I was definitely hungry and very much wanting a steak.

We drove past one steak house to go to another on the other side of town. That was okay, I like them both. Unfortunately, when we got to the other steakhouse, it was closed. It's only open for dinner. My Beloved Curmudgeon said we shouldn't drive all the way back across town, why don't we just go to IHOP that is right next door to the closed steak house.

I really wanted a steak, but being a good co-dependent type person I said that would be okay. I said, 'IHOP is okay' in my most pathetic tone that should have told him I really wanted to go get a steak. He didn't read my mind and pulled into the IHOP parking lot. A slight chip started creeping up on my shoulder, but I pushed it back down telling myself that it was silly. We'll go get a steak next time.

Being hungry and having had myself all ready for a steak, nothing looked good on the menu at IHOP. I even commented that they had steaks and eggs, but it just wouldn't be the same at IHOP. He still didn't catch on to my mood. He ordered a large breakfast and I ordered pecan pancakes (my mother will disapprove of that - but I did, okay!). When one is in the midst of unsuccessfully putting a guilt trip on one's spouse (unintentionally, of course) one shouldn't order anything of real substance to eat.

A few minutes later the waitress comes out with a huge steaming plate of eggs, bacon and all the trimmings for my Beloved Curmudgeon and little bitty plate with two half-dollar size plain dry pancakes for me. I really hate sending food back, but I looked at that plate and the bite size pancakes just weren't cutting it. I was so hungry.

I sent the pancakes back asking for the pecan pancakes I had actually ordered. The waitress returned in record time and proudly placed in front of me the very same plate with the very same half-dollar size pancakes on it. But now, they had a scattering of pecan pieces tossed on top of them. She didn't hang around long enough for me to send them back this time.

I was dumbfounded and looked at the dry, bite-size pancakes with pecan chips thrown on top and the chip I had been forcing down from my shoulder snuck right back up on it again. I got a little butter packet and made a half-hearted attempt to spread some butter on the now cold little bitty pancakes. The butter just rolled the few pecan chips around on the pancakes. They were getting less appetizing by the second.

My Beloved Curmudgeon noticed I was not a happy camper and asked if I wanted him to handle this. I demurred and he told me to quit being a victim, that he'd take care of it for me if I didn't want to. I demurred again, but was glad to let him be the bad guy this time.

He got the waitress over and asked her about the pancakes. 'We are out of pancake batter,' she explained. She went further and said the cooks should have told her. It wasn't her fault, she said - weakly. My Beloved Curmudgeon said, 'This is the International House of PANCAKES, right? And you don't have PANCAKE batter?'. She said they had pancake batter for anything BUT pecan pancakes.

I asked her for a menu again and I'd just order something else. By this time my Beloved Curmudgeon was finishing his meal and that chip was virtually dancing around on my shoulder as I flipped the pages of the menu without really reading it.

I tossed the menu in the middle of the table and said I'd fix something when we got home. He suggested we stop at a deli we like on the way home. I liked that idea and said we'd do that. We left IHOP and headed to the deli.

I ordered a chicken salad sandwich with walnuts and he decided to get an egg salad sandwich. I know, I know, he'd already eaten. We ran into friends and talked. All of this took a while. We finally got home and I sat the sandwiches down in the kitchen and went to change clothes and wash my hands.

I was REALLY REALLY hungry by the time I came back into the family room with my sandwich box in hand. My Beloved Curmudgeon was eating his sandwich and making a face. I asked him if he didn't like his sandwich.

'It's got nuts in it', he said with a disgusted look on his face. He then went on to complain about che-che delis putting all the extra stuff on when all you want is a plain egg salad sandwich on white bread. I was sympathetic and told him I was sorry he didn't like his sandwich. We actually discussed this for a few minutes with me sitting and holding my little sandwich box still unopened.

I opened my sandwich box looking forward to my chicken salad with walnuts, lettuce and tomato on wheat bread. As soon as I opened the box I realized I had a plain egg salad on white bread.

'Stop!! You're eating my sandwich!!!', I exclaimed.

He stopped in mid-chew and mid-puzzlement over the odd taste of his egg salad and held out the mostly eaten remains of MY chicken salad sandwich. 'Here.' He held it out to me in such a pitiful manner I burst out laughing.

'No wonder it tasted so strange', he said.

I flipped the chip off my shoulder and gladly ate the last few bites of my sandwich while he ate his egg salad sandwich. It hit the spot.

For the rest of the day he mentioned how full he was and I'm still hungry.

Things I've Learned from Email!

I just want to thank all of you for your educational emails over the past year.

Thanks to you, I no longer open a public bathroom door without using a paper towel.

I can't sit down on the hotel bedspread because I can only imagine what has happened on it since it was last washed.

I have trouble shaking hands with someone who has been driving because the number one pass-time while driving alone is picking your nose. (Although cell phone usage may be taking the number one spot)

Eating a Little Debbie sends me on a guilt trip because I can only imagine how many gallons of trans fats I have consumed over the years.

I can't touch any woman's purse for fear she has placed it on the floor of a public bathroom. Yuck!

I must send my special thanks to whoever sent me the one about poop in the glue on envelopes because I now have to use a wet sponge with every envelope that needs sealing.

Also, now I have to scrub the top of every can I open for the same reason.

I no longer have any savings because I gave it to a sick girl (Penny Brown) who is about to die in the hospital for the 1,387,258th time.

I no longer have any money at all, but that will change once I receive the $15,000 that Bill Gates/Microsoft and AOL are sending me for participating in their special e-mail program.

I no longer worry about my soul because I have 363,214 angels looking out for me, and St. Theresa's novena has granted my every wish.

I no longer eat KFC because their chickens are actually horrible mutant freaks with no eyes or feathers.

I no longer use cancer-causing deodorants even though I smell like a water buffalo on a hot day.

Thanks to you, I have learned that my prayers only get answered if I forward an email to seven of my friends and make a wish within five minutes.

Because of your concern I no longer drink Coca Cola because it can remove toilet stains.

I no longer can buy gasoline without taking someone along to watch the car so a serial killer won't crawl in my back seat when I'm pumping gas.

I no longer drink Pepsi or Dr. Pepper since the people who make these products are atheists who refuse to put 'Under God' on their cans.

I no longer use Saran wrap in the microwave because it causes cancer.

And thanks for letting me know I can't boil a cup of water in the microwave anymore because it will blow up in my face...disfiguring me for life.

I no longer check the coin return on pay phones because I could be pricked with a needle infected with AIDS.

I no longer go to shopping malls because someone will drug me with a perfume sample and rob me.

I no longer receive packages from UPS or FedEx since they are actually Al Qaeda in disguise.

I no longer shop at Target since they are French and don't support our American troops or the Salvation Army.

I no longer answer the phone because someone will ask me to dial a number for which I will get a phone bill with calls to Jamaica , Uganda , Singapore and Uzbekistan.

I no longer buy expensive cookies from Neiman Marcus since I now have their recipe.

Thanks to you, I can't use anyone's toilet but mine because a big brown African spider is lurking under the seat to cause me instant death when it bites my butt.

And thanks to your great advice, I can't ever pick up $5.00 dropped in the parking lot because it probably was placed there by a sex molester waiting underneath my car to grab my leg.

I can no longer drive my car because I can't buy gas from certain gas companies!

If you don't send this e-mail to at least 144,000 people in the next 70 minutes, a large dove with diarrhea will land on your head at 5:00 PM this afternoon and the fleas from 12 camels will infest your back, causing you to grow a hairy hump. I know this will occur because it actually happened to a friend of my next door neighbor's ex-mother-in-law's second husband's cousin's beautician...

Have a wonderful day....

Oh, by the way.....

A German scientist from Argentina, after a lengthy study, has discovered that people with insufficient brain activity read their e-mail with their hand on the mouse. Don't bother taking it off now, it's too late.

Viva la France!

Its seems so unfair that everyone makes fun of the French all the time. I know, I've been guilty of it myself, but I feel very badly about it. I really do.

I know the French haven't won a war since the Norman Invasion of 1066. That's when the French warriors all moved to England and apparently took the warrior DNA with them. Whoops. I did it again. I didn't mean to make fun of them again. What was I saying? Oh yeah, just because they haven't won a war since 1066 and just because their immediate response to any kind of aggression seems to be immediate surrender followed by wine and cheese, doesn't mean they deserve to be the butt of jokes throughout the world.

Happily, I have found the following video that is proof positive that the French still have that warrior gene somewhere deep inside of them. Perhaps it will resurface. Maybe its resurfacing even as I type this. They are actually quite fearsome Soldiers. It could very well be that one of the best kept secrets in the world is that these French men might possibly be the most dangerous men on earth!

Victoire pour la France!!

Appréciez .....

French military demonstrating the World's Best Anti-Tank Missile

The Pianoman Next Door

My Beloved Curmudgeon and I have moved a lot during our marriage. We've bought and sold several houses along the way. In all that moving we have found a few things have been very consistent for us. Those things have been so consistent that by the time we bought the house we currently live in we were joking about having to make sure those things were in place before we bought it.

For instance, we have always had very interesting neighbors. Interesting as in eccentric and/or just downright odd. Almost all of our neighbors have had the same first name. I won't name the name on the outside chance my neighbor happens to read this. I'll keep an element of plausible deniability for the sake of peace in the neighborhood. We actually thought of asking our neighbor's names before we bought the house. We joked about it, but didn't actually ask. Sure enough, when we met the neighbor closest to us, he had the same name. When my Beloved Curmudgeon and I got back to the house after meeting him we were slack jawed. What are the odds!

Our neighbors have been a source of perverse entertainment for us over the years. There was an elderly couple that lived across the street from us years ago who had the loudest fights. This wasn't the type of neighborhood one would expect this type of behavior which made it all the more entertaining. They would start fighting. She would throw him out of the house. He would stand out in the yard and yell for her to let him back in. She would yell at him out the window and start throwing his stuff out into the yard. He would stomp and snort around in the yard for a while. He'd usually wind up pleading with her. He'd finally get in his car and drive around the block repeatedly. Eventually, he'd pull back into the driveway and she'd let him back in. This happened about twice a week.

I'm a little embarrassed to admit it, but more than a few times my Beloved Curmudgeon and I would turn off the lights and sit on the floor by the window watching them, we'd make sarcastic remarks to each other and laugh like a couple of idiots. Like I said, perverse entertainment.

Every single house we've lived in has had its own form of entertainment from the neighbors. In fact, I think we've provided entertainment for our neighbors a time or two, but that's another story.

Our current neighbor-with-the-same-first-name-as-all-our-other-neighbors is as entertaining as any of them. He is friendly, jovial and I've never heard him and his wife fight. However, he has a tendency to walk around his front yard in red shorts and no shirt .... and he weights at least 300 pounds. Its really not a pretty sight, especially when he bends over to pick up something. He also has a tendency to cook out on a grill on his back deck naked. Yes, naked. I've told my Beloved Curmudgeon I'm not eating any hamburgers he might bring over to share!

We live on a heavily wooded side of a mountain. His house is the only house we can see if we are sitting on our back screened in porch. We sit on our back screened in porch a lot. In the summer you can only make the house out through the trees. In the winter its a very clear view, especially if he has his lights on. Either way, its hard to miss him when he's cooking out. I have given him the benefit of the doubt and assumed he didn't know we could see him. You know, the trees and all. My Beloved Curmudgeon says that of course he knows, he just doesn't care. I admit, the more I've gotten to know this neighbor - with - the - same - first - name - as - all - our - other - neighbors the more I'm convinced that if he thinks about it at all, he really doesn't care.

The thing about this neighbor - with - the - same - first - name - as - all - our - other - neighbors is that he runs a piano business out of his basement. He has a couple of big trucks in his drive-way and picks up and delivers pianos. He tunes the finest pianos in the area, some from his basement. I brought my laptop out to our screened in back porch a while ago and sat down. When I got all settled and quiet I heard the music of Mozart floating over from my neighbor's house. It was beautiful. Stunningly beautiful. I just sat and listened until he stopped.

Our neighbor who walks around his yard unclothed, who cusses like a trucker, is uncouth, is big and burly and could care less what anyone thinks of him, can play the piano with the touch of a fine concert virtuoso.

No one would know that about him if you judged him by first appearance. You could only know that if you sat on my screened in back porch and listened.

Its Raining McCain!

This is so bad its good. The other candidates have women singing for them and uploading videos to YouTube, so its only right that McCain would have his very own McCain Girls! I admit, this is one of the weirdest videos I've ever seen, but its also hilarious. Don't you love these girls? And don't they love McCain?

Ah man, now that song is stuck in my head .....

John Malkovich in the Bathtub with Craig Bierk (video)

Just what everyone wants to see .... John Malkovich naked in a tub with another man. The thought of that makes me scared to hit the play button on the video. Its more than a little frightening to think about. He gets in the tub with talk show host Craig Bierko in the premiere of the new talk show Unhitched. Get over your fear, its funny.

John McCain Does Barbra Streisand

Hey - at least we know we aren't electing an 'Entertainer and Chief'!

"I've been in politics for over 20 years. And for over 20 years, I've had Barbra Streisand trying to do my job; so I decided to try my hand at HER job."

You have to love a man who can laugh at himself. I don't think anyone will be paying to see John McCain singing any time soon, anymore than anyone will be wanting to hear any more of BaBa Streisand's political views. Hopefully he'll quit singing and she'll quit pontificating on issues she is ill-informed about. BTW, I've heard that Streisand demands to have rose petals in her toilet bowl. Its hard to take someone seriously who requires 'her people' to keep fresh rose petals in her toilet bowl.

How Was Your Cereal This Morning?

Enjoy :)