Get Your Rachel Ray Autographed Kidney Here!

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Does anyone else feel slightly patronized because Rachel Ray now has more television shows than Kelly Ripa, more cookbooks than Julia Childs, and since that’s not enough you can now buy her custom mix albums from amazon?  I want her to sign my kidney if I ever need to have surgery in that region of my body.  I’m certain that she’ll be offering that service by the time she has completed selling her soul to S@t@n [or 0pr@h, whichever one offers her the most money].  I’m sure that these opportunities sound good to her, but the truth of the matter is that eventually you have diluted your brand to the point where no one will buy the Rachel Ray model of the Gazelle workout machine.   Or your Rachel Ray & George Foreman dually signed lean mean fat cooking machine.  And you will know that the apocalypse is upon us when she co-authors something with Martha Stewart.

Disclaimer: if you click on the link to the amazon.com page that sells her album I will not make money on this.  Your purchase will be anonymous.  But I will possibly die laughing if someone buys it.  And then this site will cease to exist because Jessica just isn’t into blogging.

That Fluffy Substance of Which 500% is Made Up of Fat

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Abby requested that with dessert for tonight’s celebration of my sister and her husband moving to the Denver Metro area that we make ‘with cream.’

I smiled and asked, “Do you mean ‘Whipped Cream’?”

To which she replied, “Dad, I call it with cream.”

And so I have been schooled in the ways of the four year old mind.  What you think you heard is now what things are called.  Which is exactly why I hope that she only accidentally overhears Jessica and I talking about ‘sects’.

Some Extra Speshdal Pishdurs

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I tooks me some pictures in Las Vegas.  They are pictures of (mostly) real things.  And you can see them at my flickr page.  More about the insane weekend in Vegas wherein many rodeo clowns, and their husbands or male counterparts, were in town for the National Rodeo Finals.

P.S. Why do rodeo women have to wear so much make-up?  I thought that being salt of the earth people they would be more natural.  Apparently in Sin City they are required to wear cowgirl hats, too much make up and, of course, belt buckles that say, “One Night Rodeo Queen.”

Gratuitous Tipping Scene

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I know I said that the last blog post was the last for this weekend, but I had to tell you that around here the employees expect a tip for pretty much every service they provide. If you walk into the casino employees attract to you like little gimpy Mexican children with chicklets in Cabo San Lucas (which isn’t intended to be racist about all Mexican children, it was supposed to remind you of those needy eyes that say, “Please, if you buy these chicklets I will stay out of school and the maimed arm will have continued to serve me well in this endeavor to be a needy person in need of your money). Jessica has now gotten up from her short nap and is ready to go see all that is the glory of the Caesar Forums [insert sythesized recording of fanfare here].

Sin City or Salt Lake?

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Today while passing through the airport in Denver we were presented with a conundrum. And when someone presents me with such a thing I like to ponder it. The conundrum was do we try to smuggle ourselves onto the plane destined for Salt Lake City? The wholesome town of meandering Mormons? Or instead do we get on the plane that our tickets tell us about, and go to Las Vegas? The not so wholesome town that was actually settled by Mormons 🙂 Kinda hard to believe that such a reclusive bunch of religious folk would be taken over by the mob, and then eventually Hollywood studios and tycoons.

Today while walking through the mirage I noticed an intersting detail: no coins were in use. The quietness in the casino was distracting. I suppose that by moving all of the transactions to being digital they can reduce minor leaks presented by ethically challenged employees. To fix the problem of no coins they have speakers that make ‘tinking’ sounds as if coins were falling into the empy coin catchers below the ‘slot’ machines. Except that metal has been welded over the slot. So instead its a bill or house player card machine. Weird.

Of course the best part of Las Vegas so far was the sight of my co-worker holding an alcoholic beverage at 11:00 in the morning. But since he’s from Texas it was like 1:00 which is a totally reasonable time to go drinking 🙂 We’re hoping to have a good time here trying to do all of the G-rated things we can come up with. The Mirage has some dolphines and a small wild animal collection. Caesar’s next door has a very large shopping ‘forum’, and the sidewalks are littered with pictures of mostly naked women on baseball card-like ‘tracts’ that immigrants hand out on the sidewalk to attract men (and sometimes women) to go to topless bars or brothels. To me it seems like they should make soup at brothels. Vegetable brothels, chicken brothels, and of course beef brothels should produce corresponding broths that are sold at the super-markets.

However, I doubt that we’ll get such delectibles out of such sinful houses of ill repute. And even if we did, they’d have to be closely monitored for STD’s. I guess we’ll just stick with animals, shopping, and eating about every two hours at yet another fantastic restaurant.

Since my internet connection costs money here this will be my last post until Sunday night or later. Have a good weekend!

Mens Dress Shoes

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To continue on my series of ‘Randy pretends he has fashion sense’ type posts tonight I went to buy black mens dress shoes.  Who designs these things?  I swear to you that almost every shoes less than $100.00 they soles are made from recycled iron maidens.  That is to say they’re incredibly uncomfortable.  Considering I don’t wear them very often I can’t justify that sort of expenditure.  Worse, the designs were very weird to me.  I guess I didn’t expect to be as opinionated as I was, but some of the shoes literally looked like the bill of Scrooge McDuck from the Disney Ducktails cartoon.  Done in black of course (or brown).  Then there were some shoes that looked like they’d been cleaved in half by a random hatchet murdered, but then carefully and professionally stitched up so as to fake you out into thinking they were supposed to look like that.

To Jessica’s credit she has somewhere between 10 and 20 black shoes.  I don’t think that 7 of them look any different to the other shoes, but she identifies small nuances that make the shoes unique.  Tonight I learned about nuance.  With multiple manufacturers making the same shoe styles I was able to pick out small curves that were cut differently, different lace types, and of course various types of ‘cushion’ inside of the shoes.  I prefer shoes that feel like my Vans: soft, cushiony, and sporty.  That way when some thug asks me to play a pick-up game while I’m dressed up I can easily get schooled in my comfortable shoes and sweat out a perfectly nice shirt and pants.

I guess I just expect to get schooled in style and comfort instead of looking like I killed a cartoon duck and then tried to implement the Spanish inquisition on myself.

Can I Ask Your Opinion?

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I had a gal ask me that last night.  I was in the changing room open area last night while Jessica was trying something on.  The woman had been trying on a dress and I think she liked it but she wanted to ask someone else’s opinion.  Fortunately I was there, Mr. unshaved with t-shirt and jeans on.  She looks really good in the dress.  I recommended she take it in to a tailor and have it hemmed up about 1.5 inches.  Me.  Suggesting that people get things tailored.  Imagine that.  But Mr. Craig got me hooked on tailored clothes and so now I’m a dress clothes snob.  If the pants or shirt don’t fit (get a size up  depending on the cut) and get the piece tailored and then you’ll look good, be comfortable, and you’re sure to score big with the fashion police.

The only problem was that I was pretty sure that I’m one of a small handful of people who actually have male body parts, who are straight, who would have been able to evaluate all of the outfits Jessica tried on as well as the dress this stranger tried on.  Apparently I’ve watched too much “What Not to Wear” 😛

The Most Fruitfullest Day in a While

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I had a very fruitful Sunday.  We skipped church, which is abnormal, but Abby wasn’t well on Saturday and Jessica and I decided laying low was best for her, and I had no commitments.  I’m relatively sure I’m not going to hell for it, but its not a practice I intend to make a habit of for other reasons 🙂  But I accomplished a whole lot: I fixed an electrical outlet that’s been broken since we moved in, I hung Christmas lights on the front gutter.  I purchased a Christmas tree, mounted it on the stand, which we later decorated.  I also fixed my gas grill which had had an obstruction in the gas tube.  Abby and I snuck out and spread Christmas cheer while we bought Jessica a Christmas present or three.  I bought the presents, Abby said Merry Christmas to nearly every passer-by.  Only a few people actually said ‘Merry Christmas’ back to her.  I think I did other things, too, but I can’t remember.  It was a busy day, but I’m stoked to have gotten so much done.  I know that working on a honey-do list doesn’t sound like fun, but checking things off on that list feels really, really good.

Periodically, Like a Magazine

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Periodically people move, and when they move their bodies burn calories, which explains the profuse amount of processed foods available at various establishments.  And at the Belle Taco establishment today I saw this lovely sign (snapped with my cell phone, sorry its low quality)

Closed spelled WRONG

If you look closely you’ll notice that closed is spelled as if the sign creator was a super clever fellow.  Or maybe they are a product of the Aurora Public Education System (APES).  What do you think?  Does Taco Bell need signs like this everywhere to go with their “Think outsid3 th3 bun” ad campaign? The burrito I ordered was just the ingredients rolled in the tortilla.  Thus when I lifted it out of the paper wrapper much nastiness fell into the (conveniently located) bag.   Drivers b3w@r3.

Happy Thanksfiving!

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I had a friend accidentally type ‘Thanksfiving’ last night in an IM instead of Thanksgiving. My mom will be proud to know that I am capable of spelling Thankgiving. Woops. Thanksgivng. Darn. I thought I could spell it, but apparently not. Anyway, I’m thankful for my family. A beautiful wife, a pair of beautiful daughters [which trumps a pair of jacks, but is still not quite enough to beat other hands, apparently. I’m going to Vegas in December for a business trip and have to practice my card counting skillz], a home that is warm, food that is tasty, a steady stream of income, and of course, a car that runs well.

I’m thankful for all of the things that I have, including the readers of this blog. Have a happy Thanksgiving! [Yeah! I spelled it right] But also, give someone a high-five this thanksfiving, because it will be cool.

Happy Thanksfiving!