Jokes from the Sonoran desert

What do you get when you finally get excited about outdoor Christmas decorations, a new telescope, and the Geminid meteor shower all in one day?

Three hours of rain like a motherfucker.

Not funny? I didn't think so either.

I am really trying not to be a scrooge but...

*thelightsthelightsthelightsthelightsthelightsthelightsthelightsthelightsthelightsthelightsthelightsthelightsthelightsthelightsthelightsthelightsthelights*

FAAAAACK YOUUUUUUU, KMART!!! YOU AND THE CRAPPY CHRISTMAS EARWORM YOU RODE IN ON!!!!

Like I needed another reason to NOT shop there. It's like Rain Man says...

All I gotta say is if you want this Frau to buy your shit, this is the way to go. Bravo, Amazon. Bravo.

How doth one obtain a job as a scribe with Amazon? Sign me upeth.

Home.Woot

Tuesday

Make pie crusts. Check. Bake sweet potatoes. Check. Eat entire can of sweetened condensed milk. Check. Buy 12 pack of tart, hard cider to lower chance of repeat offense. Check. Drink said cider. Check.

 
Holidays require 'fuel' of all kinds. I hope in the hubub you are able to find yours.

By Request-Strawberry Pretzel Pie

This concoction might as well be funeral food-it's that good. Cool, crunchy, creamy, tart, tangy, sweet, and salty. Ohhh....myyyyy....guh.

2C crushed pretzels
3 Tbs sugar
3/4 C melted butter
2 8oz packs cream cheese
20-24 oz frozen, crushed strawberries
1 C sugar
8 oz Cool Whhhip
6oz box Strawberry Jello
2 C boiling H20

Preheat oven to 400.

Crush pretzels or process to coarse crumbs in food processor. If you have no processor, double bag them and beat with a rolling pin. Why do all of my deserts involve beating something?

Mix pretzels, 3T of sugar, and melted butter. Eat half. Mix more to replace what you've eaten. Press crumby mixture into 9x13 pan and bake at 400 for 8 minutes. Let cool completely. Do not rush this. Don't rush the masterpiece.

Beat cream cheese with 1C sugar until creamy. Eat half. Before driving to store to get replacement cream cheese, boil 2C water and add to box of jello. Of course, put the jello into a bowl first. Do not pour the boiling water into the box of Jello; this is not a step-saver. Let Jello cool to room temp-ish.

Upon return from the store, mix up new batch of cream cheese/sugar in the above ratios. Fold in tub of Cool Whhhip. Smooth onto cooled, pretzel crust, sealing the crust under a fluffy, white layer, leaving no crust peeking out.

Add frozen strawberries to Jello and pour gently onto white cloud of heaven. If you rushed it and the pan/crust/jello wasn't cool, you will now be watching red gel seep around the layer of fluffy white and into your golden pretzel crust like a crime scene. Nice work; you fucked it up.

Kidding. It's fine.

Hide the pan in the fridge behind the milk and something else large so the kids can't find it. It's ready when the Jello is set. Go to the bathroom and remove ring of cream cheese from around your mouth. After the children go to sleep, place half the pan into a large salad bowl, saving the remainder for breakfast. Eat in bed with a serving ladle and stew in your own blend of ecstasy, despair, and regret.

Sunday morning. Haus-bund-a-hunting. Braticus tearing through her extra hour of sleep. Heaven? No. You would think, but no. There's no coffee.


I improvised with instant espresso, half-n-half, & miniscule amount of Buttershots. I'd take pictures but that would involve not drinking it. And yes I realize this means I'm technically drinking at 7:53 a.m. on a Sunday.  Let's be real about this. Realz.

At least it not 7:53 on a Monday when I really want to be drinking.

It's all about perspective. And Buttershots. And warm stuff in a cup on a Sunday morning in November.

There's a good week ahead; you just have to find it. But I probably won't and if you don't either we can meet back here next Sunday and have a drink.

Braticus rising.

Cheers!

Frau

Magazine Fuckery

So, I'm kind of a magazine junkie. Always have been. And being the deal junkie, I also get offers for really cheap subscriptions. So, last year I picked up a years worth of Natural Health thinking I'd enjoy the pictures of all the healthy foods I'd never get around to making, yoga poses I'd never do, and expensive products I'm too cheap to buy. I don't love the magazine. Its far too hippie-chic and consumer-centric. You can't save the planet by buying shit and you are more likely to improve your health by getting off your ass and going for a walk, than by buying some yuppie/hippie supplies in a stupid ad rag like Natural Health. But I like hippie food so I got the magazine.

Last week I am flipping through the latest issue, absentmindedly as always, and I see this photograph:

Seriously. I can take a lot of hipster-photographer fodder but really? A blonde on a vintage bike, with a basket of apples, plaid fedora, and A FUCKING PONCHO?? I mean, if I saw this broad pedaling through my neighborhood, I'd be hard pressed not to knock her down. JUST FOR FUN. With my car. Who comes up with this shit?





So then, my curiosity is piqued. What other acts of photographic douchery have I been unknowingly subjected to but just didn't notice. And that's when I found this:

Hot girl in a tank dress, cheeks-about-to-peek-out but it's cold enough for a wool coat, scarf, hat, and rubber boots.  Did she escape from an adult home somewhere? WHO DOES THAT??





Then there's this little piece of genius:

This was on a page of snippets-little notes about goofy stuff that magazines sometimes have near the front. The problem is that the only thing on the page that this photo could even come close to being related to was something about having to pee improving your attention span. So we have a hipster, reading a book, trying not to piss herself so she can concentrate better on the book? Then again, she looks about twelve so I'd just say "PUT THE BOOK DOWN AND GO TO THE BATHROOM BEFORE YOU PISS ON MY $3000 SOFA!!"

I guess she doesn't like winter-it fucks with her calf-tan lines.

Then there was the ad copy:

Doctor? Snake-oil peddler? With the 5 inch heels, Dr.'s coat, and kicky hat & pearls I'd bet there's a pole behind that lush, violet privacy curtain. See the lone 'client' waiting for her lap-dance product demonstration.

She looks real sweet but she's really just a well-off, well dressed, judgmental, canine-yogi. Tell me she doesn't look like one.

I just don't have the time or intestinal fortitude for this one:

Don Draper designed this ad, I'm sure of it. In 1962. The smiling. The rolled-up blue jeans. The 12 year old sitting on daddy's back. Even the dog knows what utter horseshit this is.

I was going to cancel the magazine. Now, I can't wait for my next Natural Health to show up. It's like Highlights Magazine for the Frau: find all the ridiculous crap you can and mock it on your blog.

What shitty magazines do you guys subscribe to? I might need to widen my scope.