Crappy Christmas Leftovers and other Holiday Hassles

EVER HAD A BAD HAIR HOLIDAY?

OK, so the above pic of my lovely niece Rebecca pretty much sums up my Christmas. I wish Christmas was called Johntmas or Georgetmas or Bartholomewtmas, but it's not.

It's called Christmas. And I have to endure it, like a bowling ball-sized ornament around my neck.

Rebecca is the oldest of my nieces or nephews, and actually gave me permission to use this picture.

She's 23 or something. I used to call her Minky when she was much younger. Now look at the treatment I get. I can't even take her picture without getting the finger.

Anyway, on to my Festive Fit of Follies and Foibles.



The woman above is my lovely sister-in-law Kim, domestic diva and survivor of her husband and my brother Gerry's sick sense of humour, among other things.

Well, as I was being whipped 100 times on Boxing Day by my evil sisters into washing the dirty dishes generated by 19 or 20 people, she forced me to take a bunch of leftover turkey home.

"You can make a soup," she said.

"No, I can't," I said.

"Yes you can," she said.

So like any sane man, I submitted.

A couple of days later, before rot could set in and other of nature's nasty doings could claim the leftover turkey I had stuck into my fridge, I decided to make some turkey rice soup in my crock pot.

The problem is, I'm a cooking crack pot, a culinary disaster waiting to happen. Nonetheless, I forged on.

I found a recipe on the internet.

I even called up my mom, who for whatever reason expressed skepticism.

After taking 20 minutes to explain 19 minutes more worth of information than I could possibly retain, I proceeded.


My execution was less than perfect.

I boiled and then simmered the turkey for about an hour to generate some stock. I cut the carrots. I cut the onions. I threw in the tomatoes. Then I dumped in the turkey and other stuff.

And then I THOUGHT I turned on my crock pot to let it all meld together for six or seven hours, as instructed. Unfortunately, it wasn't plugged in.

Six or seven hours later, at roughly 12:30 a.m., I went to check on it. DOH! I plugged in the crock pot and went to bed, figuring it would be perfect when I woke up.

Not so.


It was the most bland concoction of crap that I have ever tasted.

I've since put it all in a plastic container, hoping that my son -- who's like PacMan from the old video game when it comes to food -- will consume it without even asking me what it is.

Instead, I suspect that a week from now, after green things start to grow on it, I'll be throwing it out.

Another Christmas-related issue I've had is trying to impress my kids by getting their Christmas gift to me up and running.

I take pix of them and others all the time, they know that.

It's a digital picture frame. And I see now that it's got my fingerprints all over it.

So, here's what it's supposed to do: It's supposed to play a series of your pictures that you've taken and downloaded on to a memory card.

Here are the pix it's currently playing:

And the reason it's playing THOSE pix is because, surprise, surprise!!!, my frickin' memory card from my camera won't work in the picture frame.

As usual, life is all about fitting something inside something else. And it not fitting just right.

Such is life. When's Valentine's Day?

Dubya's Really Big Shoooooooooe -- The Book

I WAS SO CAUGHT UP IN VEGEMITE THESE LAST FEW DAYS THAT I'VE NEGLECTED THE BIG SHOE CAPER.

You know, where George W. Bush, in an apparent attempt to leave no doubt he clearly IS the worst president in U.S. history, goes to Iraq.

Call it his Loser's Legacy. Or Lunacy, if you prefer.

Now Georgie, he could have simply faded into the woodwork, as no doubt the Reflublicans would have wished as they're drowned by the Barack Obama tide and annointment as the man left to clean up Georgie's disasters.

But no, he decided to make a surprise visit to Iraq, the site of his biggest blunder -- where an Iraqi TV reporter gave him the biggest of Islamic insults by throwing his shoes at the woebegone pres.

You'll note that Bush's Iraqi puppet president or prime minister or whatever makes a meek attempt to stop the shoe from hitting Bush.

The intent of the reporter was to show Bush the bottom of his foot, to show that Bush is the lowest of the low, a creature worth stepping on and squishing like any little ant or bug -- an appropriate measure I am inclined to agree with.

The media worldwide has lampooned the incident. It's all over the nightly talk shows, of course.


Even an internet game has been developed...

But I'm sure you've heard about that ad nauseum. Now it's time for my segue into all the books I bought today at my newspaper's Spirit of Christmas book sale, with all proceeds going to the Christmas Cheer Board.

As with any newspaper, we get hundreds of books sent to us every year to review, free of charge. What we do is review the books and then sell them ($3 for soft cover, $5 for hard cover). I bought a bunch today. Total, $36.

Here they are.

So...why do we blog? Why am I sitting in front of my computer all the time? I'm hoping this book tells me why. Of course, if I'm busy reading IT, I won't be on the computer. Hmmm...

Believe it or not, millions people -- mostly really goofy Americans in places like Kansas, and I don't mean to denigrate the general population of Kansas or anyone else -- believe they're going to live on forever because they'll be raptured while the rest of us will rot in hell.

And here's a book telling me how I can somehow profit financially from the silliness of all that!?I'm in.

I bought this book above because, as a brilliant researcher and groundbreaking expert in the differences between the male and female brains, I thought it might be refreshing and worth a quick 100-minute speed read.

I have no idea what this book above is about, even though I'm sure my retirement nest-egg is worth about half what it was a few months ago. I just liked the shark-shaped American dollar bills and the sexy Italian name of the authoress.

No, the three books I really want to focus on are below.

And in one way or another, they all have something to do with George W. Bush, Iraq, Afghanistan, Islam's hate of the United States and most of the problems the world is dealing with today.

I've already opened this one below. It looks promising and throws out a theory that Dubya's innane presidency -- I remind you the Americans inexplicably elected him twice, once illegally -- was all about family dynamics involving his dad and his brother Jeb.

(Jeb? JEB? Cue: Beverly Hillbillies. Or maybe Green Acres)

This book below, of course, seems to speak of the larger, even MORE explosive damage that Bush's absurd policies did to the planet, and which Obama will have to try to undo somehow.

Finally, the book below foretells, apparently, about the shit we're in now and what it could lead to.

Ugh.

Sometimes, I wish I was back reading my kids the Berenstain Bears at bedtime. But it should take me the entire year to get through all these at my reading rate. By then, who knows where Dubya will be?

Vegemite Sandwich -- Great White North Style

FINALLY, IT'S THE VEGEMITE LIVE CO-BLOGGING PRODUCTION INVOLVING HOMO ESCAPEONS AND WW, COURTESY OF THE LOVELY STACE FROM AUSTRALIA.


For those of you who haven't been paying attention, Stace mailed to WW a tube of Australia's famous vegemite at great expense more than a week ago. And the best-laid plans for Donn and WW to get together for a taste test fell through.

Oh, he had a vasectomy or some stupid procedure like that and whined for days about his need for frozen bags of peas and wah-wah-wah. But on Thursday night, the wimp finally made it over here in his winter gear.



Donn: OK I've come for the food downunda, where the women something-something , and the men chunda! Which I know is slang for look out below mate I'm gonna puke!
Now what do you with this stuff?

Do you snort it? Nope.

Maybe you need to heat it up and inject it?

Might have to hot knife this sucker..anyone remember doin' this in HIGH school?

You know this would prolly make a soothing hemorroidal ointment?

Oh Yeaaaaah!

Actually I have some post-vasectomized bits that would dearly love a little TLC..

Yeah BABY! Come to PAPA! Now we're talkin'!
HELLO!

CHRIS: What an arse. Donn's editing me as we go here, but the only use for this stuff is to help minimize the glare as we're gearing up for a game. HE says I look like Adam Ant for whatever reason.

I take no responsibility for his previous comments. But I look way better in this shit.

Donn: "RRRRRRR! You ain't so bad! Yer goin' down CREED!"

Hey maybe we can do some crafty stuff..VEGIART! Wow that looks Vagiant?

OK let's start with the basics..the ubiquitous HAPPY FACE..
and maybe a furry little PUSSY....ah he's so cuuuute.

Ya know this stuff sort of curls nicely...you know where I'm goin' with this don'tcha?

Hmmm...maybe something uber-Canadian
Like the noble MOOSE and a happy little tree by his side.

CHRIS: OK, we've been putting this off long enough -- the whole point was to actually try this delicacy from Oz. So here we go...enough of this...

Ugh...pungent, but I liked it more than Donnnnnnnnn...

DONN: Oh give it here you Mr. wussy-pants. I'll show you how a real man eats VEGEfrickinMITE!!
Holy CRAP!
OH for the love of GAWD! What the hell is that? It tastes like a mixture of petrol and Platypus Cloaca...Wiki MONOTREMES if you need an explanation.

Oh sh*t..((Rrrrraaaalllppphhhh))CHRIS: OK, if only because Stace is pregnant, I LOVED IT! (Ugh)

DONN: No offence, Stace, but not so much...

You know this might be useful for making repairs?

We could touch up the caulking around the terlet.

This door hinge is kinda squeaky..what the hell WHY NOT?
There that's better.

CHRIS: Well, finally, it happened. Donnnnnnn and I finally got together for the big VEGEMITE NITE.

All we can do is thank the incredible Stace for this opportunity for ("THE SPREAD," Donn says) but I say for this opportunity to experience something truly of Oz. Donnnnnnn and I will come up with something truly Canuckley soon...

Donnnnnnnnn yells "Thanks Stace!!!"