Things one should never outgrow:

peanut butter and bananas on toast.

(Add chocolate chips if it's been that kind of day.)

Just so you know, the answer is no.

Can you ever have too much popcorn?

Problem Solving

My poor wife. She did it again. Some people struggle to learn and that’s why they repeat the same mistakes. What grievous error now you ask? She bought the Christmas baking much much too early again. Plus, she “hid” those sugary bonbons in the freezer where ANYONE can find them. And by anyone, I mean my teens. And since they moved away, by my teens I mean me. But none of this is my fault. I blame the washing machine.

The washing machine said it needed five more minutes before I could transfer my clothing to the dryer. So I looked in the freezer. And that’s when I spotted a Tupperware container of home-made cookies of various shapes, sizes, and delicious-es. What’s a guy to think and what’s a guy to do when confronted with such a conundrum? This:

1. She won’t notice if I eat just one.
2. Hmm. Now there’s an empty spot in the container. I better eat one more, make it an even number again.
3. Uh oh, now there’s only one left in this row.
4. I better eat the last one in this row.
5. Uh oh. The entire row is gone.
6. I will rearrange them.
7. Hmm. Still gaps. I will arrange them differently.
8. It looks like I broke a few moving them around so I should probably eat those too.
9. More gaps. Bummer.
10. Hmm. If I eat all the cookies then hide the container, there is a 98% chance my wife will not remember purchasing them. Perfect.

Who says problem-solving is hard?

Things that deserve the stink-eye:

authentic, greasy-awesome poutine in Montreal, Quebec.

(But I am in Alberta and can only dream about this and other stuff my daughter eats every day.)

Grr.

Things that are most likely the devil:

Dear Trail Mix,

How I love you. Plus I want to punch you in the face.

Sure sure. You are a convenient, healthy snack to take while hiking blah blah blah BUT there's this too:

1. I don't hike. And I'm 99% sure that 93% of the people who buy or make trail mix do not hike.
2. Bears like trail mix too. See #1.
3. Whoa. I just had a moment: when bears eat trail mix am I the not-so-secret added ingredient?
4. You are not healthy. In all your deliciousness and apparent abundance of good cholesterol or whatever Dr. Oz is bullshitting about this week, why oh WHY are you like 6,349 calories per handful? WHY? (4.1 The real reason you are unhealthy: I can eat 17 handfuls before I even realize it.)
5. I always eat the M&Ms / Smarties first. You KNOW this yet those pesky geriatric raisins you insist on including get in the way and I accidentally ingest one or two so why oh WHY aren't you easier to eat?
6. Raisins are crap.
7. You need more chocolate. (I have heard some describe you as "M&M's with obstacles.")
8. You're so hipster. What's next: quinoa?
9. I just googled you and "surprise," quinoa trail mix balls are a thing now. My reaction: NO. And by no I mean I would probably try them.
10. Trail mix balls? Ha. Seriously? Let's leave Bear Grylls out of this. Anyway, new versions of trail mix are unnecessary: just omit raisins.

Oh Trail mix, I just realized something else. Maybe I'm projecting my dislike of raisins onto you?

Wow. Thanks for the eating disorder too trail mix.

Things one should never outgrow:

pumpkin pie for breakfast.

#whynot?

Wordfoodz

yum + pumped = yumped (adjective) aka hyped/eager to eat/consume something yummy such as cheesecake, poutine, fish & chips, waffles with maple syrup, pumpkin pie, Stewart's root-beer, a big veggie burger, a deep-fried chocolate bar, ice cream, my Grandma's chocolate cupcakes or fill-in-your-own-blank here. Which foods get you yumped?

Kinda Disturbing

There's such carnage in those heady days following Easter.

#csi
#theyllneverfindhim

Things that are most likely the devil:

these are available WAY too early.

#preEastersugarcoma

Things that deserve the stink-eye:

my palm is one serving?

#ineedbiggerhands

I miss when...

#buthelookssohappy
Image from here.

I didn't know what trans fat was.

Cornucopi-uh-huh

Apple Dunne [doon-eh].
It tastes better than it looks.
(I'm not much of a food stylist.)

Thank you Alistair!

I haven't deep fried chocolate bars yet but thanks to my long lost Scottish brother from another mother, I now know how to create dunne. 

Delicious.

Oh yeah. Uh huh. I am now the king of my kitchen bitches.

Just one problem: the recipe only used six apples.






#mywifemademeaddtwoteaspoonsofsugar
#mysonsaysthisisthebestthingheevertasted
#ifitsnotscottishitscrap
#nohaggiswasharmedinthemakingofthisdessert
#westillhaveashitloadofapples

Wordfuse (Snacks Edition)

Sometimes one may need to disengage disengorge from snarfing down all the majority of the junk food in the damn hotel honour snack bar.

Evidence

My sister-in-law's amazing and gooey cinnamon buns.
Only 8.42 million calories of deliciousness. 

See previous post.

Wordfuse (Overeating Edition)

(noun): formerly referred to as my waistline; a side-effect of the immense number of snacks I've consumed on this little holiday. Bummer.

SHHHHH. Don't tell my wife.

From my links: proof that I have a problem with ice cream.

Yeah. So. I'm going to tell you a secret. My wife has this condition. SHHHHH. She must never read this. Why? Well obviously I'd be dead, but here's another thing too: SHE DOESN'T EVEN KNOW she has this malady. A social psychologist would refer to her affliction as "cognitive dissonance."

I've tried to explain it to her but she thinks my thinking is flawed. Mine.

It's so frustrating. Here's the situation:

1. I repeatedly ask her NOT to buy snacks because I will eat them.
2. She repeatedly buys snacks thinking I won't eat them and then discovers she no longer has snacks because, you guessed it, I ate them.
3. Testy showdowns at the pantry ensue. (See acrimatrimonious.)

Basically for example, she thinks we can have ice cream in the house. Seriously. Ice cream IN THE HOUSE. Like a hot, fat-guy like me needs ice cream?! This irritates me. She KNOWS that ice-cream is basically crack-cocaine to me. Before I go on, I must stress that I have never used crack cocaine. Honestly, I have no idea what crack-cocaine or any other cocaine is but I did watch that interview Diane Sawyer did with Whitney Houston and I have surmised that crack-cocaine is pretty powerful stuff and therefore an appropriate metaphor. As I was saying: my wife is well-aware that ice-cream is my narcotic. YET SHE STILL BUYS IT. AND she gets angry when I eat it all. Then honey, why-for-the-love-of-God did you buy it?

Like I'm the one with a problem.

She also buys RIPPLE CHIPS and CHOCOLATE CHIPS and she expects me not to snarf them down too. She ACTUALLY BELIEVES these snacks will still be there 35 minutes later when she wants to enjoy one of those toothsome goodies. She ACTUALLY BELIEVES this to be true despite nearly twenty years of evidence to the contrary. By clinging to those two conflicting notions my wife clearly has extreme cognitive dissonance. Like a clinical case. Totally. [See O-wise-and-powerful-wikipedia explanation if you care.]

So what's a guy to do if his wife thinks that treats will miraculously remain in the pantry and elsewhere despite the long-term evidence that my teens and I will gorge on them like wolves reared on trans-fat every chance we get?

Wait. I just thought of something: I suppose I could stop eating them.

Nah. That would only aid her delusion condition.

As I said, SHHHHHH. She must never read this.

Walrus-ness

The Walrus:

-a large, flippered, marine mammal easily recognized by its tusks, whiskers and great bulk, especially in the chest and stomach area.

-the origin of its name is a combination of the appropriately chosen words “whale” and “horse.”

-can weigh up to 4500 pounds.

-its name is practically synonymous with the word “blubber.”

I have always respected these creatures but truthfully, something that happened a few years ago gave me a new appreciation for the walrus.

I love snowmobiling and skiing and skating but probably my favourite winter activity is sledding. It’s fun to partake in and watch. I really appreciate that the only slightly athletic skill involved is mild bravery. It’s simultaneously suspenseful and hilarious—spectators wince and cringe then remark, “Oh, that’s going hurt later.”  Injuries are usually minor and one is often inspired to laugh through the pain mostly because everyone else is too busy laughing to provide medical assistance. Anyone can “get air.” And let’s be honest—Canadians were born to sled.

Anyway...once while whooshing face-first down an icy hill on a wide, flat, duct-tape enhanced, surfboard-like sled, I skidded to a stop near a tree and my young daughter looked down at me, smiled and said, “It’s SO great how you embrace your walrus-ness!”

At first, I thought 911 might be necessary because my evil wife was laughing hard enough to burst a major blood-vessel. Indeed, I laughed too; I knew the speaker intended this as a complement. Later though, after my wife had conveyed this story repeatedly to about ninety-eight people, I started to think about what my daughter actually meant by this statement and I believe she made an excellent point.

Do you ever feel like a walrus? In particular, are you feeling like one right now? Why not embrace it?

It reminds me of the famous poem “The Walrus & the Carpenter” of Alice in Wonderland fame. The only part I remember is this: “the time has come to talk of many things: of shoes, and ships and sealing wax, of cabbages and kings, and why the sea is boiling hot and whether pigs have wings.”

Yes the time has come folks: pigs really can have wings. And so do we walruses, especially when we “get air” sledding down an icy hill.  Want to feel light and free and forget your worries (or your holiday-enhanced belly)? Well. Just jump on a sled and let your walrus sliiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiide.*

*Blogger friends in warmer locales may have to visit a water park to walrus it up but it feels just as great there too.

Dear Santa: this is a test.

My wife really loves the whole Santa thing. Me not so much. She's way more in charge of Christmas at our house than I am and I appreciate that she makes Christmas very warm and memorable for our whole family so there was no way I was ever going to infringe on her desire to Santa it up.

So when my kids were little and questioned me about Santa's existence, I wanted to tell them the truth but out of respect to my wife I just shrugged my shoulders and said to them, "What do you think?"

What I really wanted to say was, did you know that when the makers of Coke put Santa's image on their packaging, sales increased dramatically?

I didn't have to say or do anything though. She didn't reveal this until she was about 12 but, unbeknownst to us, when my daughter was about 8 she decided to test the Santa theory herself and left a special note, just for Santa, hidden in her bedroom on Christmas Eve.

Uh. Apparently he did not respond. *Insert bubble bursting sound effect here.*

Unfazed (as she later described it), she kept this all a secret and continued to perpetuate the myth for our sake. Smart cookie eh?

However, this little act of Christmas subterfuge makes me suspect that someday my daughter may work for the Canadian government.

Things that deserve the stink-eye:

The sad fact that man-boobs are not considered attractive.

So. Sexist.

Things that are most likely the devil:

So tired.

     Why do so many people complain about sleeplessness? Depending on one’s life span, we sleep about one third of our lives away, possibly up to 25 years?! This just proves what I now believe: sleeping is overrated. What a waste of time! And so unproductive too. I’ve decided that this is the reason why I barely sleep anymore. Folks, I’m just trying to boost my efficiency.

     There’s plenty to do. So much to accomplish. Why not complete tasks until one or two in the morning? Why not get started at five o’clock in the morning? I do. I’ve hardly slept for the past three nights and this has enabled me to accomplish a variety of things:

1. I remember cooking a meal at 6:30 a.m.

2. There was a third thing but I can’t remember what it was.

     Here’s my hypothesis: we are hardwired to be up in the middle of the night. Babies instinctively know this. Babies recognize they can accomplish all their goals beginning right after midnight until whenever the hell they want. It’s genius.

     Oh, sure. Those wacky scientists claim sleep deprivation has negative effects:

1. nausea and headaches.

2. hallucinations.

3. tremors and rapid involuntary rhythmic eye movement.

4. irritability or more severe reactions such as temper tantrums.

5. obesity.

6. clumsiness and ability impairment.

7. slowed word recall and other memory lapses.

And wait for it....

8. yawning.

     Since I stopped sleeping I haven’t noticed any of these so called symptoms or side-effects. No tripping. No nausea. Headaches—who doesn’t have those every day anyway? No hallucinations. (Okay, one. But it turned out to be a garbage can in someone’s front yard. And it was dark.)  Tremors. None. Eye twitching? I prefer to call that eyelid exercise. No irritability. Okay sometimes. People need to just leave my root beer alone OKAY?  Obesity? No comment. Ability impairment? Well no tripping anyway. (Did I say that already?) And I rarely drive so this is not a problem and it is just a coincidence that I couldn’t insert the key in my doorknob yesterday. Slow word recall because memory lapse of the of the of the

     Where am I?