Need a new redneck family holiday recipe?

I'm on a lot of recipe distribution email lists.

Most of them I delete, but some are worth trying. 

I now have enough mac 'n cheese recipes to give myself a coronary event.

Lately, I've been getting a lot of holiday recipes. Those are the best, because they call for full fat and sugar.

But one of the holiday "cocktail" recipes gave me pause. And then a shiver. And then I threw up in my mouth a little bit.

I love mulled cider and mulled wine when the weather turns cold.

But I can say with all certainty that I will never ever in my life crave or even try MULLED DR. PEPPER.

Don't believe me? Click the link. I double-dog dare you.

The best part of this page is the bad reviews.

Too awful to waste time writing about!

My family was hesitant to try it and no one took a second sip. Not good.

I remember this recipe from the 60's when Dr. Pepper would advertise this. Be forewarned, the Dr. Pepper turns flat when heated. Also unless you sip it piping hot, it's rather disgusting.

And then... a rave.

My husband has done this for years when he has a cold. It is very soothing to the throat and helps open up the sinuses.

Opens up the sinuses. Isn't that what you want from your holiday cocktails?

Shudder.

Priorities, Hobby Lobby. PRIORITIES!

First, I'd like to thank Hobby Lobby for the wealth of material they've provided this week. It's a veritable goldmine of WTF-ishness.

I'll have even more tomorrow.

I bought a new, larger Christmas tree this year, and I've been having fun decorating it. There are ornaments of everything.

Everything BUT donuts. There are no donut ornaments. None. (I know, I know. Ebay. But none in stores.) Not. One. Damn. Donut.

Because that would be silly, right? A donut ornament on a tree?

No donuts, but wait until you see the shit they DO have to help you celebrate the birth of our Lord.

Nothing says JOY TO THE WORLD like a monkey DJ.

Mariachi monkeys are MUCH more Christmasy.

How about a creepy Christmas nightmare?

Or a simple ode to gambling? (Is it just me, or does that say Jack Poti?)

Hobby Lobby, you suck.

Merry Christmas. Now get the hell off of my lawn.

This doesn't seem like the kind of message über-Christian retailer Hobby Lobby would send, but here's your proof.

Family shamed by Honda

My car got recalled recently. Apparently, if my airbag deploys, a spare part miiiiigt fly out and kill me.

Reason enough to bring it in, I suppose.

Dad offered to follow me over and give me a ride home after I drop it off.

And then he and Mom suggested, with no subtlety at all, that I should get my car professionally cleaned before I take it to the dealership.

Apparently, they don't want outsiders to know how I really live.

Sigh.

Dad is coming over to check my work before we go.

:)

Just stab me in the eye right now

I'll never be drunk enough to see a Twilight movie.

Not quite what I had in mind

My folks are on my wireless account.

Dad has the newest iPhone and texts downloads and looooooves technology.

My mom... not so much.

So I got her a new phone. Not a smartphone, but something better than the flip phone she's had for years (the one that lives at the bottom of her purse that she keeps switched off at all times).

The new phone has a touch screen and a full keyboard and a camera. And it's purple. If that doesn't get her to keep the phone on, nothing will.

I took it over to the house and patiently showed her how to use it (it seems like it would be intuitive, but if you're not used to computers or computerized things, it's really not).

Here's what's gone down so far.

I've gotten a lot of texts from Mom's phone... from Dad.

Oh well. At least the phone is on.

Yes, I put exclamation points after my favorite contacts.
It's much more exciting to get phone calls when you do that.

Passive-aggressive holiday meals

Why argue when you can just plunk this down on the table? :)

HAPPY THANKSGIVING, EVERYBODY!

The other night at a bar

I was in the ladies room.

As I washed my hands, the girl who'd been sitting at the next table (and on a date) came in and worked really hard on her hair.

Really hard.

I glanced down and noticed that she was wearing sweatpants.

If you're wearing sweatpants in a bar on a date, why do you give a shit about what your hair looks like?

These youngsters befuddle me.

What not to say to a woman. Ever.

When I told a friend how beautiful I thought his 19-year-old daughter was, he turned to me and said:

It's such a burden on her. You have no idea how difficult it is to be a beautiful woman. 

Um, thanks, fuckstick.

Truth in advertising

Last night, as I slept in a fog of cold medication, I heard a lot of feline commotion downstairs.

Too tired to investigate, I hollered CUT IT OUT! And went back to sleep.

In the morning, I figured out what had gone on.

A fat tabby had, indeed, been very tempted by these aptly named treats.

She knew she'd misbehaved, so she lumbered upstairs and monitored the action from above.

Sigh. Pretty soon, she'll be too fat to outrun me or hide under any furniture.

Keep it up, Fatty.