Christmas shopping guide: idea #4 — arts and crafts edition

Y'all know I'm crafty (in more ways than one) and I enjoy and arts and crafts fair, when there are actual arts and crafts for sale. Let's play everyone's favorite game for our Christmas Shopping Guide today: Art or Craft?!

Let's start with what Megan and I found in the first tent.

This would be the Enchanting Aromas homemade candles. Please draw your eyes to the middle candle on the left. The scent is Butt Naked. Now, the sign says PLEASE SMELL! but there was no way I was taking a whiff of a candle with Butt in the title. Notice there are people shopping in this booth. Notice the email address starts with earoma — is it just me or does that sound like some kind of skin cancer of the ear? "Sorry, Mrs. Faler, you have an Earoma and it's reached stage 5, I'm afraid you can no longer wear earrings." That would be a devastating diagnosis. Anyroma, you won't find the Butt Naked candle at Bath and Body Works or anywhere else for that matter. Thank baby Jesus. The candles are neither art nor craft.

Moving on, what would Christmas be without toys?

A lot less creepy is my guess if you're going to give your kids troll dolls. This booth and every kind of troll doll for all your troll doll needs. And what a name for the booth: Trolls and Fun. Because trolls are clearly not fun, so you have to buy some fun to go with them. Those things are creepy and weird. I never understood the draw of the troll doll.

The trolls are neither art nor craft. They are, however creep-city and I'm pretty sure it you spend your time with troll dolls all day long you are in need of psychiatric evaluation. Trust me, it is worth checking into and I can reccommend someone if you need me to. I'm just saying.

Moving on.

Some vendors apparently think arts and crafts is a science or at least pseudo-medicine voodoo.

Not that I haven't had a masseuse that could have been called an artist, but generally, no, pressure point massage is not an art or a craft. And who goes to a craft fair and thinks, "oh, I sure could go for a massage, Louise. Oh, look, there's a masseuse!"

Wouldn't you know it, a few booths down from the pressure point massage was something I never imagined to see at an arts and crafts fair.

Of course, it's the Ye Olde Pain Relief Acupuncture booth. This is where What the Hell Friday comes into play. What the hell? Seriously, people. And no, I've never tried it because 1) I've had too many shots in my 34 year-old life and don't want to stick needles in my body for fun and B) I'm still considered sane in most states and 3) it hurts when I attempt to sew and stick myself with a needle. Do I need to remind you that I got D in home ec in middle school?

The only craft I consider acupuncture to be is witchcraft. And I didn't get a picture of the big-ass sign at the back of the booth because the gentleman in the brown jacket was blocking it. It was a big lifesize diagram of the human body and where the needles go for whatever they're trying to cure you of. At this point I was seriously doubting the legitimacy of this arts and crafts fair and Megan asked me if I'd ever been to one. Yeah, I've been to the indoor kind with real arts and crafts. Then we stumbled upon this.

Feast your eyes upon the hideousness.

The next time we're invited to a dinner party and bring the token bottle of wine I'm giving the host this lovely antler and horseshoe wine bottle holder. Don't worry, I picked up a few for Christmas gifts. I think I'll give my girlfriends one with a bottle of Boone's Farm 'cause I'm classy like that.

When Obama appoints me Ambassador of Good Taste I'm having these things banned. I'm of the belief that the only things that look good with antlers are living animals. Call me crazy, I know. We don't have any deer heads in our house or jackalopes or anything and I like it that way.

The wine holder is not an art nor a craft, it is some serious ugly.

And then we went to the food tent for lunch!

Megan's way of getting me to the arts and crafts fair was the premise that we need to find new food vendors for ScrapFest! and the best way was to sample some of the local vendors that do these kinds of events. Sounds on the level, right? Ha. Turns out Megan just wanted kettle corn, but she wouldn't pay $6 for it. So, we walked around the food tent and settled on a vendor that seemed pretty suspicious to me.

Look at all the food you can get on a stick! We both had shrimp on a stick. Another vendor had ribs on a stick, and as I told a bff today, that seems a little redundant. The shrimp were good. And my shrimp on a stick came with an eggroll and lo mein. I know, it didn't make sense to me either, but whatev. I love an eggroll. They offered a soft-shell crab sandwich, but the vendor didn't understand me when I asked what was on it, so I went with the shrimp. Moving on.

After our stick lunch, we finally found a booth worth of the arts and crafts title. Ladies and gentlemen, I give you the fudge booth.

People, this is an art and a craft. One guy was making the fudge, stirring with the wooden paddle, another guy was spreading it on the other stone surface that's not in this pic. Megan and I were in awe. We decided on chocolate almond fudge. It was still warm and so yummy. They offered pumpkin pie fudge and some sort of white chocolate cranberry fudge, but I don't consider either of those to be fudge. I know, I'm picky when it comes to my fudge. It was superfantastic and I enjoyed watching the dudes make it almost as much as I enjoyed the fudge. Almost. The fudge dudes get the arts and crafts award!

Just for fun, here's a pic of something that although I would like to have, does not belong at an arts and crafts fair.

Why on earth would you bring your taser booth to the CHRISTMAS arts and crafts fair? Really. There are so many questions. And nothing says Christmas like personal protection, am I right? Suprisingly enough, I didn't overhear "hey, Thelma, there's the taser booth you were looking for!" when we were there. Shocking, I know. None of the little old ladies were lining up for tasers this morning.

I do wish there would have been a demonstration, because that might have made me buy one. I mean, I want to know my taser works, I need to test it out on something or someone, preferably not a friend or family member and a booth guy would do. The last thing I need is to buy a taser and have it fail when I need to use it on, I don't know, a kiosk person in the mall. Or a neighbor with really tacky Christmas decorations.

Speaking of, don't forget to enter the Kerry Blog Ugly-Ass Christmas Decoration Contest. Information is in the post below. Y'all have a fab weekend.

announcing the “it’s beginning to look a lot like excess” contest!

EDIT: you may submit as many entries as you wish. There is no fine print for Kerry Blog contests. Just fun. And sneaky taking of photographs. And snarky captioning. Ok, go.

Ever the industrious elf, I've decided to run a contest and even made a banner in the damn devil's creation known as Photoshop to go with it. Never say I'm not dedicated to this damn blog. I'm cursing more today than usual because of Photoshop and its infernal ways.

That's right friends and peeps, it's the Kerry Blog Ugly-Ass Holiday Decoration Contest: it's beginning to look a lot like excess. Take a photo of the tackiest house in your neighborhood and send in your entry to kerrybee7@yahoo.com. We will have a vote and the winner (loser) will be announced on Christmas Eve. Of course there will be a prize at stake, and no, I haven't thought that through and will have to decide what the prize will be. Anyreindeer, I assure you, it will be a good prize, but stop thinking it's a luxury car or something of great monetary value because I don't see Lexus or Tiffany's sponsoring the Kerry Blog anytime soon. It's not like I haven't tried, but those beotches at Lexus won't return my phone calls. So, get a move on, get your groove on and send in those tacky-ass house pictures!

holiday pet peeves: edition 2, part deaux (seriously, people)

This afternoon I was leaving my subdivision to meet Megan for a ScrapFest! meeting at PJ’s (our corporate office headquarters) and I saw the lawn ornament that I’m pretty sure will stalk my dreams. No visions of sugarplums here, just ostentatious Christmas decorations.

Before I get into that, I’ll fill you in on the progress of planning ScrapFest! in March. Meg and I made a bunch of decisions, but the most pressing matter at this time was planning our company Christmas party. Really, we did a lot of planning and scheming, we are nothing if not workhorses for the man — which in this case is ourselves, I suppose. Anyway, the ScrapFest company Christmas party will be a big shindig this year — of course it will be catered and have an open bar, live music, ice sculpture of Michelangelo with eggnog flowing, photographer, a Santa, reindeer to feed, bags of swag, and we will draw names for gifts. I wish I could invite all of my readers, but unfortunately it is a company Christmas party. When Megan realizes she and I are the company, she may cancel the party, so don’t tell her ’cause I really love eggnog and swag.

Back to my major holiday pet peeve: y’all won’t belive what the owners of the house from my previous video put up today. I’ll let the new video speak for itself.

Did you see it? Okay, first of all, do the people really think they need any more crap on their lawn? I think not. Second, where do you even buy a Santa/reindeer teeter-totter? And B, why would anyone make that? I know, I know — capitalism and profit, but really, the Christmas lawn decorations are out of control. Please for the love of eggnog, stop it.

Now, I hate the obnoxious lawn decor, and I’m almost to the “if you can’t beat them join them” philosophy, but I won’t break that easily, peeps. It’s going to take a lot more for me to fight them at their own game. I’m not above going out under the cover of night and removing and hiding (notice I did not say steal, because that would be wrong) all of the inflatable lawn decorations. I may even fashion dresses out of them for my portfolio for the next season of Project Runway, we shall see. If I do result to fighting fire with fire, I will seek out these:

and no, we are not Jewish, but Jesus was and I think He would approve. I think they will look great on my lawn. Oh, and the neighbors will be so jealous, they may put up Kwanzaa decorations. I really wouldn’t doubt it.

getting to know you Christmas

My friend Mandy sent me one of those "getting to know you" Christmas emails where you fill in your answers after you read your friend's, and I thought I'd put my answers up, just in case anyone feels like they need to know more about me. I give and I give, people, 'cause that's the kind of person I am.

1. Wrapping paper or gift bags? Only the best Hallmark wrapping
paper, real ribbon – I am a wrapping paper snob and I know it.

2. Real tree or Artificial? Artificial with lights, I
have allergies and I don’t need another living thing in my house to take care of.

3. When do you put up the tree? In our
dining room, front corner by the windows.

4. When do you take the tree down? Usually
the week after Christmas. I like to
extend my holidays and I'd leave it up and decorate it for each holiday if Scott wouldn't think I was crazy.

5. Do you like eggnog? Fo sho.
With freshly grated nutmeg. I am Martha Stewart.

6. Favorite gift received as a child? Oh, that’s a hard one. Three way tie
between my Barbie Dream Townhouse, stuffed cocker spaniel with a fm radio from
Radio Shack (I knew elves didn't make it), or the Lite Brite.

7. Hardest person to buy for? Scott, he never wants anything and says "a hug" then asks what I want and I pull out the giant scroll…

8. Easiest person to buy for? Lucy dog, she never asks
to return anything and everything is always the right color 'cause you know, dogs is color blind.

9. Do you have a nativity scene? I did until a couple of weeks ago when Andrew
decapitated a wise man and amputated two of the camel’s legs. And I almost bought one of the Willow Tree or whatever they're called at the Cracker Barrel — I was thisclose to being sucked in by the Cracker Barrel.

10 WORST GIFT YOU EVER RECEIVED? No idea. Oh ho ho, yes I do.
Let’s see if this individual is reading and/or remembers. I somehow doubt it, because I have a photographic memory for stupid crap. Someone once gave me a book entitled “How to
go to Hell.” Not that it was a bad book, it was quite funny,
but the title just screams Merry Christmas and leave me the hell alone!

12. Favorite Christmas Movie? It's A Wonderful Life

13. When do you start shopping for Christmas? End of
Sept, beginning of Oct. But not this year, I've hardly made a dent in my list.

14. Have you ever recycled a Christmas Present? Well, yes.

15. Favorite thing to eat at Christmas? Dessert,
candy – divinity, pralines.

16. Lights on the tree? Yes, just as Jesus intended.

17. Favorite Christmas song? “Have Yourself a Merry Little Christmas” love that song. I also love U2's "Christmas (Baby Please Come Home)"

18. Do you travel or stay home at Christmas?
Stay home. I’m not spreading my
Christmas cheer elsewhere, except maybe my Starbucks barista.

19. Can you name all of Santa's reindeer's? of course, and it’s reindeer, dude.

20. Angel on the tree top or a star? a star-shaped cookie, I know, it’s
ridiculous. And it's pink, which is even more ridiculous, but our angel was too big and kept flopping over and that's not a good look, she looked drunk and the kids were asking questions.

21. Open the presents Christmas Eve or morning? Oh, please. We open pressies for almost a week. The Faler Christmas is not for sissies or persons who cannot lift more than so many pounds for that matter.

22. Most annoying thing about this time of the year?
Take your pick, the fact that the kids are out of school for 2 weeks, the
traffic, the crowds, the bad Christmas music, having to buy for 6 teachers, the
bus driver, the mail carrier, and everybody in between. Last year I did Starbucks cards, this year I’m
giving a pack of Wrigley’s gum. I’m
starting to sound like Scrooge.

23. What theme or color are you using? Theme? Um, Christmas. Red, green, white, pink, disco balls, pink
flamingos, Elvis impersonators, what kind of question is this?

24. Favorite for Christmas dinner? I like
our Christmas Eve dinner, prime rib, veggies, dessert.

25. What do you want for Christmas this year? Peace in the
Middle East, Amy Winehouse to go to rehab, Andrew to be potty trained, the kids
to put things away without being told, Scott to have a permanent job in town,
me to wake up a size 10, get a Pulitzer Prize for blogging, and for all the
children of the world to hold hands and sing “Happy Christmas (War is Over)” by
John Lennon conducted by John Williams, while dressed as angels with glowing halos.

26. Who is most likely to respond to this? Melissa, maybe.

27. Who is least likely to respond to this? The person who gave me the book I mentioned.

28. Who is most likely to delete this and say
"Huh?" when I mention it? Ha ha, you can’t delete
my blog, you wish.

holiday pet peeves: edition 2

Y'all know I'm nothing if not dedicated to telling the truth here on the Kerry blog, 'cause gosh darn it, someone has to. I'm not sure if it's out in full force in your neighborhood yet, but in my 'hood it's beginning to look a lot like Christmas, a really gaudy Christmas. Scroll down for the video and let's have a look at the evidence, shall we?

People, I know I'm fairly judgmental; I am jaded when it comes to a lot of things and Christmas decor is one of them. I know, I know, it's not keeping anyone up at night and I'm sure Obama isn't being briefed on the 7 foot inflatable snow globes and the threat they pose to national security. But really, something has to be done about these lawn decorations. I can't take it anymore.

It all started with those hand-painted wooden things in yards, then the plastic light-up Santas, snowmen, and nativities. Now it's "let's see how much crap we can fit on the lawn." This behavior didn't bother me until we lived in Brunswick, GA. We went home to Mandeville for Thanksgiving and when we returned a couple of days later our neighbors had been passing 'round the crack pipe and were putting up every damn thing you could possibly imagine on their lawns. I am not making this up: the best house had a Santa alien in a sleigh being pulled by eight pink flamingos. For realz. Scott will back me up on this one. I had a pic, but I don't know where it is now. It was awesome. Every other house in the subdivision was decorated to the hilt with fake ice skating rinks with fake skaters and everything else you could think of and more. I only put out a wreath, it was like the Grinch's house.

But my current subdivision is wild. The house from the video is first on my list when I'm appointed Minister of Good Taste in the next administration. I simply cannot take it.. Readers, if you have a Santa on your lawn, there really is no need for a snowman Santa, Mickey Santa, Tigger Santa, Pooh Santa, and whatever other Santa Walmart carries. Likewise with the nativity set. If Jesus were to come back this Christmas and for some reason came over to your house and saw his family — I usually call nativity sets "Baby Jesus and his family" — out on your lawn with some sheep, a snowman, Santa, and two inflatable penguins on ice skates holding some mistletoe with lights set to Maheim freakin' Steamroller playing, well, I'm pretty sure He can revoke your get into Heaven pass. That's in the Bible, somewhere around Acts, as in "if you Acts like a fool and put up tacky lawn decorations at the anniversary of the birth of your savior, your name will be crossed out of the Book of Life." I'm no theologian, but I know my way around the Bible. I think I remember that from Sunday school or a Christmas pageant I was in when I was a kid. I was once kicked out of a Christmas pageant at church because I was always late to practice, I was 8 or 9. I failed to see how that was my fault. Anyway, that's my Christmas pet peeve of the day. I'm sure there will be more.

tunes you need Tuesday: the films about ghosts edition

There are songs that are a sort of soundtrack of your life, representing time periods, feelings, relationships, and the like. My go-to band for my life's soundtrack is Counting Crows. Now, CC is one of those bands that most people either really love or really hate. I'm not sure what it is about them that brings on the hatred, but it's there, I assure you. I've had some heated discussions with the haters. I haven't written about CC for that very reason, but over the weekend I did a lot of listening and a lot of soul searching and usually that brings me around to CC and Adam Duritz's lyrics, so here we are.

The weekend for me was like a big flashback in a movie. Going home usually does that. For me the best lyric in "Mrs. Potter's Lullabye" is "if dreams are like movies/then memories are films about ghosts." Boy, that fits. Whenever I have flashes of memories from whatever period of my life it feels like that and it sums up my trip home pretty well. The reason I do not reside in my hometown can be heard in "Recovering the Satellites." I know that sounds cryptic if you're not familiar with the song. Here's the heart of the song:

So why'd you come home to this faithless town
Where we make a lifetime commitment
to recovering the satellites
and all anybody really wants to know is…
when are you gonna come down
She sees shooting stars and comet tails
She's got heaven in her eyes
She says I don't need to be an angel
But I'm nothing if I'm not this high
But we only stay in orbit
For a moment of time
And then you're everybody's satellite

When you're the self-appointed caretaker of everyone who needs saving in your circle, you're recovering the satellites and at some point you get tired of that job. I can practically pin-point the moment I resigned that job and I try not to look back. While I was still head satellite-recoverer I went through a dark period that lasted 3 years, my "She Don't Want Nobody Near" period. I still have moments, as everyone does, but when I heard this song in 2003 I had a majah flashback to that dark place in the movie of my life. This sounds like it's straight out of a journal of mine, circa 1993:

http://kerryfaler.typepad.com/files/16-she-dont-want-nobody-near.m4p

Pretty whitewashed lies/Endless alibis
And the reasons that need cleaning every night
Half a world away
You can't wash away the stain of the deceiving
And the things that you cannot believe, and well…

She don't want no one around
Cause she don't want anybody to see
What she looks like when she's down
Cause that's a really sad place to be

Man, that's sad. I was sad. It's really not a depressing song, just melancholy, like me from time to time. If you've taken the Personality Plus test and remember the Perfect Melancholy personality, that's me — with a healthy dose of Popular Sanguine (those really don't go together, but that's me). And I don't know how CC got hold of my journal and turned it into a Top 20 song, but I haven't seen a dime of the royalites. I don't keep a journal anymore, unless you count this blog and stuff scribbled in my Mom Agenda. Anyway, things are good now, no big, but that song is a reminder to me of how far I've come and the dark times I don't want to go back to. Of course, this past spring what I've suspected for years came out when Adam Duritz admitted to being treated for severe depression and dissociative disorder, which makes a hell of a lot of sense when you examine his songs. There's nothing like a little mental illness to bring on creativity in artists, just ask Brian Wilson.

The follow-up to an earlier CC song, "Goodnight Elizabeth," "I Wish I Was a Girl" is one of my faves. In the song, Adam is saying if he were a girl, maybe Elisabeth would believe him when he told her that he hadn't cheated on her, but the lines in the song that always get me are:

The devil's in the dreaming
You see yourself descending from a building to the ground
You watch the sky receding
You spin to see the traffic rising up
And it's so quiet
You're surprised
And then you wake
For all the things I'm losing
I might as well resign myself to try and make a change

Maybe you've never had a time when you felt like throwing in the towel, then had something happen or someone point something out to you and thought, "for all the things I'm losing/I might as well resign myself to try and make a change." But for me, that line nails it. The line "And I could shake this static everytime I try to sleep" is fab, too. The diction CC uses is pure brilliance in my opinion. Like I said, people either love or hate CC, I've loved them from day one, since "Mr. Jones" won over the masses and I've stuck around for everything after. If you see them live, you may have the oppurtunity of seeing the slow version of "Mr. Jones," which I prefer and you'll get to see some superfantastic covers like "Ghost in You" and others. Anyjones, if you've never listened to Counting Crows, go pick up Films About Ghosts (their greatest hits) that came out a while back, then get Saturday Nights and Sunday Mornings — it's the most recent CD and chronicles Duritz's climb back out of crazy. It's a good listen and filled with great lyrics as well as beautiful melodies, particularly "When I Dream of Michelangelo." I'm included a live performance of the song just for fun. Hope you enjoy and happy Tuesday.

Christmas shopping guide: idea #3

EDIT: Friends and peeps, I couldn't bring myself to post the pic because I have standards for my blog (they may be low, but hell, I have them), but I had to seek out the next step from the Equmen 6-pack producing undershirt and look for a butt enhancer for men after I read Molly's comment. I thought we could invent something, but it's already a product — imagine that. Now if your man needs some help in the derriere, go here. It's called the Package Booster, and as the name suggests, it boosts more than just the booty. And that's about as tacky as I can be without offending my sensibilities and Puritan nature. I can talk all day long on just about any subject except for the twig and berries because I am a total prude, as most of my firends will attest to.

There's no doubt in my mind that men are the hardest to shop for. I have a hard time shopping for the perfect Christmas gift for the men in my life — but not this year, baby. The Kerry blog is nothing if not quasi-helpful with shopping, so it should surprise no one that I have found the best gift in the history of ever for the vain, but not vain enough to work out everyday men. Friends and peeps, I give you the Equmen Core-Precision Undershirt.

The Equmen undershirt is to a man's torso what Spanx is to my tummy. Spanx rock, but I can't see a man wearing this. It is supposed to take inches off and give you the 6-pack you've always wanted. Oh, yeah, and it retails for $90. Ninety. That's a lot more than my Spanx. But I suppose if you're a guy and you want to impress the ladies, you might try this for kicks. I've never been on the other end of this, because I'm a girl (obviously), but I can't imagine dating a guy you think is a hard body type and that big make-out date happens. You're getting your groove on to some slow jams and he takes the Equmen undershirt off and lets the flab loose. That's just plain sexy.

The jock-type has never been my type, I always preferred the brainy cute guys to the beefcakes and I've been off the market for over a decade, so I won't be buying the Equmen undershirt for my hubs this year. But, now that I think about it, Scott took the "real age quiz" and turns out he's 49 (that's only 12 years older than his actual age) and I'm 28 in real-age years, so looks like I may be on the market if he kicks the bucket. Better keep my options open just in case.

Cracker Barrel of fun (or not)

Today was our trip home, big fun on the Interstates for our family of 5, plus Lucy the basset hound. Right before we hit Alexandria (or as northern LA people say "Alec") Scott asked if we should stop to eat and I said we could wait until Lafayette. He stopped, pulled in to a Cracker Barrel.

I have a history with the Cracker Barrel. It was a fun place to go in college because our friend Bryan would ask the server for a "40 minus 8 root beer" and we'd have a grand old time. For those in the know, Cracker Barrel serves a 32 ounce root beer in a bottle. I always got tea, sweet tea, as God intended iced tea to be. We'd all eat too much and make fun of the place, as I tend to do anywhere I go, generally. So, I continued to enjoy the Cracker Barrel until Scott and I had children.

For some reason, the Barrel of Crack is a mecca for bad behavior and has tons of crap for sale that no
one needs. I'm thinking you've never been sitting at the kitchen table and said to your spouse, "you know what we need? Some candles that look like small logs, people will get the irony — that it's a log on fire." No, really. No one needs these.

The best of the worst at Crack le Barrel (my fave of my nicknames for the place) are the knock-offs of actual decent stuff you'd find at real stores. This is where the retail part of the joint goes beyond average and kicks it into high gear. I'm thinking it's to tick me off. I'm pretty sure the big
-wigs are thinking of stuff I have that they can
replicate and sell for cheap, knowing I'll come in and get all pissed off at it. I can spot a knock-off of most anything at (and I'm bad a measurement, cause I missed that day in school) 50 yards. The place
loves to copy Vera Bradley bags. I love a VB bag, especially my new one, a cargo-satchel wool plaid limited edition I carried all weekend. Guess what I saw today. Go ahead, guess. I'll wait. If you guessed a cargo-satchel wool VB knock-off you win one of those wooden triangle golf tee games that's missing a few tees. Just for fun, I held up my bag (which is way mo better 'cause it's mine) and took a pic. Want to play spot the fake? Hint, it's the one with the price tag. My VB is the pretty one on the bottom, looks like something I'd carry my gun in I were hunting, if I carried a gun or hunted. Not that there is anything wrong with either of those. Still, the knock-off is pretty damn close. I'm sure lots of gun toting Crackle Barrel customers will be buying those for loved ones this Christmas, 'cause it would fit a pistol, cell phone, keys, and a lipstick. And a silencer, duct tape, and maybe a body bag if folded properly.

The absolute worst part of the retail side of the Crackhead Barrel is the toy section. There are many new versions of old toys, like Raggedy Ann, Slinky and the like. Now they also carry Webkinz, which are crack for kids. There are stupid games and those weasel ball things. I detest the toy section, because I know my girls love that crap. My kids have expensive American Girl dolls, but show them a weasel ball and they're mesmorized. Almost instantly, Molly starts asking for a stuffed parrot that copies what you say. I told her we have 3 small people in our house that copy what I say, so, no, I don't think we need anything
like that. Then I saw this. Yes, that would be a stuffed possum on the right. I can think of no good reason for a human being to own a stuffed possum. I can think of no good reason for a child to have one of these or for an adult to purchase one for a child. Well, maybe if it's to complete your stuffed roadkill collection, but that's it. People, I'm sure I don't need to point out that the stuffed possum is being sold in the Crackle Barrel, where there may very well be possum on the menu. I'm sure I don't need to point out that there were dead possums on the side of road before turning into Crackle Barrel. I'm really sure I don't have to point out THAT IT'S A DAMN POSSUM. This is the very reason I should be an Ambassador of Good Taste for the Obama administration so it would be my duty to remove items such as this from stores. I have a feeling I would have had to clear out half the Cracker Barrel. Seriously, does anyone reading my blog have connections? I'd really love that job. I'm the perfect candidate.

Finally, I have not mentioned that I am allergic to the place. They sell virtually every smelly odor-producing thing known to man. I'm shocked the possum's tag didn't advertise "now with authentic possum scent!" When I walked into the store my nose started twitching and my eyes were itchy. During our 30 minute wait, while taking pics of ridiculous products, I was on the Kleenex hunt and heard more "bless yous" than in Sunday service. I was out of Zyrtec, no Benadryll, I was a sneezy, eye-watery mess. Now, I'm a mess occasionally, but I hate being an allergy mess. We had a chaotic lunch and left without any weasel balls, talking parrots, or possums. And my lunch was possum-free, or at least that's what I'm led to believe.

and now the top ghetto sno-kone flavas

If you missed my post "short and not so sweet" go read it so you'll get the reference, or if you are familiar with the Ghetto Sno-Kone mobile from the metropolis of Shreveport, LA, read on.

I would like to thank all who participated in offering up names for flavas on the blog and on FaceBook, everyone gets an hon'rble mention, but there can only be one winner of the Ghetto Sno-Kone Flavas Awardz. So, let's throw a gang sign up and holla for Melissa.

Melissa's suggestion of I-like-big-butts-and-i-cannot-lime wins hands down. I couldn't have come up with a better one if I spent years on this. And Lord knows, I've put years of thought into lesser projects.

Hon'rble Mentions:

Jennifer for "Let's Get it Orange"(sorry Barry White)
Melissa for "Pop-a-cap-in-yo-ass soft serve" (cause you gotta have ice cream)
and Molly for "Strawberry Bling" — everyone needs a little bling

other flavas I thought of while I couldn't sleep the other night were: Brown Paper Bag Bubblegum, Big Pimpin' Pina Colada, Gangsta Rap Raspberry, and Baby Daddy Daquiri. I thought and thought with no results (shocking, I know) of something to go with "40 Ounce" and I really can't believe I came up dry. I think it's the O that's throwing me. Orange doesn't go well, I thought maybe Orangecicle, still doesn't do it for me. I've kind of settle on "Tutti Fruitti 40 Ounce," but I'm not sure if that will be on the Ghetto Sno-Kone menu. We only offer the best flavas, don't settle fo less.

Shreveport haiku

no, you can't go home

when home is a state of mind

and your mind is strange