Well, We Finally Did It

We decided to cook the dog's brain. It was surprisingly delicious, considering that the dog is an idiot.

Actually, the Blond looked at the pizza hot dish in the pan and said, "Wow, that looks like a brain." So, of course, we had to take a picture.

I would have left the top half of this post stand alone without the explanation, but at least half of our readers would have believed we'd actually do that.

Which is kind of scary...

Cheeseheads

When the morons visit Wisconsin, we naturally seek out our own kind.

Such was the case when the Colonel and the Blond attended the Wedding-Event-o-the-Decade last weekend.
Flo, JC, and L'il Penny at the wedding. Keep an eye on the one in the middle. She has dangerous ideas .

Sitting around the pool the day following the nuptials, the Colonel was thoroughly enjoying the relaxing reunion-type vibe as good friends renewed all-too-long separated acquaintances. The wedding had been fantastic, and the fellowship had been pleasantly exhausting. Now we were tired, and nothing was going to remove the Colonel from his comfortable deck chair.He should have known better.

"Hey!" said Honorary Moron JC, "Who wants to visit the AMISH CHEESE HOUSE?"

The Colonel regarded that lady over the top of his unnecessary, indoor sunglasses, "You're kidding, right?"

The Blond (Charter Member: Morons inc.) chimed in, "Oooooo. That sounds good! Where is it?"

JC was exuberant. "Right across the parking lot!"

Having been dragged from poolside, forced to change clothes, and walking out into 40 degree weather, the Colonel was not amused.

"Uh...that's a SHELL Station."

"Exactly!" bubbled JC, "The Cheese House in in the back!"Not a good sign.

I don't know what I was expecting. Maybe a cool guy with a beard dressed in basic black cutting samples on an old wooden barrel.

What we got instead was a tiny cooler in the back corner, filled with clever cow-shape-based dairy products.JC and the Blond seemed pleased.

I wanted one shaped like Brett Favre, but they were sold out.

Random Conversations with the Blond: Wal-Mart Edition

The Blond: (at the Wal-Mart checkout, noticing the cashier guy wearing sanitary, plastic gloves) Oh, so are those H1-N1 gloves?

Cashier Guy: Naw...I'm not afraid of no flu. (a pause) I'm afraid of the MONEY...with all the ANTHRAX on it...(longer pause) ...and all the FECES!"

Blond: (Gingerly taking back her shopping bag between her thumb and index finger) O-kaaaaaay...kinda sorry I asked, here."

Life was Simpler

The Colonel & the Blond are involved in planning a celebration of sorts near the end of the year.
To condense a long involved explanation, one of the necessary items to pull this off is a HUGE supply of candy cigarettes.

Discussion Questions for both of the Colonel's readers over 45:

1. Weren't those Cool?

2. Why can't we buy these at the corner store anymore?

Here was our actual conversation...

Colonel: "Man, I used to love those!"

Blond: "Yeah! I can remember walking to school on a cold day and..."
(At this point she pantomimed smoking a Candy "Heater".)

Blond: "I aways was disappointed because the boxes didn't look like my Dad's brand."

Colonel: "Did you ever play "Cigarette Tag?" You know, where if you were about to be tagged, you could kneel down and shout out a cigarette brand to be safe?"

Blond: "I seem to remember that."

Colonel: "Yeah, that was fun. Think about it..."Cigarette" Tag... Not "Sports Teams", not "American Idol Winners", not even "Ideas to Save Mother Earth" It was Cigarettes!"

Blond: (Looking at the candy box) "Wow, look at how happy those two kids are with their cigarettes."
Colonel: "We've lost something along the way, haven't we?"

Wow

The Colonel has watched a lot (probably too much) football in his lifetime.

He's always been a Brett Favre fan, and has even given grudging respect when #4 has led the Packers down the field to beat us in the final two minutes too many times to count.

But I have never seen a final touchdown pass like that one.

Wow.

The EETs of San Francisco

First Night: Clam Chowder at Alioto's. Quote the Blond, "It ain't from a can!"
We found this guy on Pier 39.
The Colonel was pretty excited about the French combo meal.
"I'll have the Crepe, FRIGHTS, and a Soda, please!" He gleefully announced. Later, the Blond quietly hissed, "It's pronounced FREET, moron."
After eating too many "freet", the Blond insisted we get some fresh fruit.
She chose well.

The Colonel, on the other hand, preferred a place called "Chocolate Heaven."

It was.The Blond did get into the Chocolate Groove at Ghiradelli. After picking out a pretty nifty chocolate-filled cable car, she sent the me up to the counter to pay for it.

The Colonel noticed a 10% off coupon sitting by the cash register. A normal human would recognise that a previous customer had just used it, but being a Moron, I scooped it up.

"Hey!" can I use this?" I gushed.

The clerk regarded me much the way a potato would.

"Is it yours?"

"Well...yeah. I just FOUND IT!"She grumbled something unintelligible and rang up the discount.With all this food, it is fortunate that the California Euphorians have placed these ECO-FRIENDLY, self-cleaning (really) facilities almost EVERYWHERE. Of course, they have a plethora of Silly, Big-Government Rules and Policies, like "Only One Adult Allowed in at a Time."

Now, the self-cleaning idea might seem pretty cool, but in fact it's kind of gross.

Then again, what kind of idiot would actually video the inside of one of these things? This is true: The video ends abruptly, because as I activated the automatic door, there was a very large man waiting outside with a "What the heck are you doing?" scowl on his face.

Unfortunately, when I REALLY needed one of these facilities, there wasn't one to be seen.

Most businesses on Fisherman's Wharf have signs that say their version of "Rest Rooms are for Customers, Only!"

One very inhospitable place in particular actually made you get a token from the front counter. This establishment happened to be the only one within striking distance when my moment of need arrived.

So I had to buy a Cheeseburger.

We made up for that Faux Pas by having breakfast at a more reputable site.Wednesday Night: Cioppino's. (Think Valentini's on Steroids, but not in a good way...)Out on the Bus Tour, we encountered "The French Laundry." Apparently, this is the "Best Restaurant in the World." Seriously. Reservations are only available MONTHS in advance, and even then they are hard to get. There is a person on ebay who gets reservations and then sells them for $200.00. No food, just the reservation. The food runs about $500-$700 per meal.The tour guide must have not realized that we wanted to eat there, because he just drove right on by, and we had to settle for snapping this picture. We had a nice picnic instead.

Final night...out of money...corn dogs.

I Left My Shoes in San Francisco

The Colonel awoke to a day full of promise.

"Oh, boy!" he thought, "Today we can tour a WWII submarine, climb some hills, see some cool stuff...this is going to be GREAT!"

"Not so fast," intoned the Blond, "If we are going to see "Wicked," there's something we absolutley must do first."

No...please. Not that. Anything but THAT!"

A few minutes later we were Cabling down to Market Street.

She calls it Shopping.

I call it Torture.

Look how happy she is.

Now, to her credit, the Blond was able to find the ONLY shop in Union Square where the dresses don't start at $2000.00

The ability to find reasonably priced apparel does not translate, however, into the ability to choose resasonably priced apparel.

I mean, it was all reasonably priced in the store she found, but then the woman needed to make a DECISION.

As the hours flew by, I checked my e-mail, chatted with a security guard, found a rest room, read War & Peace, ignored a homeless guy, and watched the day slip away.

Finally she found it. The perfect dress. Good price, nice lines. Even the Colonel--who knows less about fashion than the previouly mentioned homless guy--knew she had located a winner.

Now, finally we could go?

"Uh...duh...Shoes."

I could have wept.

Much later, after strapping on a hundred different shoes in an attempt to find, not only the perfect pair, but (this gets a little technical) the perfect pair in her size, we had made thirty minute MUNI commute back to our hotel room, and were preparing to salvage what was left of the day.

Knowing that our foray into the valley of the retailers had at last reached its conclusion, I was feeling a bit giddy.

"All right," I said benevolently, "We might as well see how all this looks together."

The Blond got as far as putting on the shoes.

"Hmmm, why don't they feel right?"

She looked inside one of them. Then she looked inside the other. Then she did it again.

"Uh-oh," She said.

"Uh-oh? What do you mean, Uh-oh?"

"These shoes are two different sizes."

When we got back downtown to exchange them, the Homeless Guy just looked at me and said, "You again?"

All this, just to go see a play in a mostly darkened theater.

On the other hand, she does look pretty Wicked.