Showing posts from December, 2010

Ein glückliches neues Jahr!

As the horrific memories of the past year have been stored in the brain and hopefully are being killed by alcohol as I write this, I bid you a happy new year. Any growing glimmer of hope for a better upcoming year will surely be doused by self-loathing and mind-numbing paper pushing. I have no new year's resolutions because I don't believe in organized thought.

Please post your mediocre new year's resolutions as a comment to this post, so that I may live vicariously through your hellish normality.

The Old Woman and the Christmas cookies

As it is Christmastime, I thought that I should tell the story of The Old Woman's Christmas cookies. The Old Woman was once a great baker, believe it or not. In the fall and summertime, she made her famous cinnamon rolls and apple pie. But, The Old Woman's greatest baking achievement was her Christmas cookies.

Now, the cookies that she made weren't the mediocre flat sugar cookies with a Hershey's kiss squished in the middle that you poor slugs are used to. The Old Woman's cookies were all hand made from scratch. She made a few different types every year.

The following list outlines The Old Woman's cookie repertoire:

Anisette cookies. (As pictured above). These Italian cookies are a vanilla and anisette flavored delicacy. Anisette gets its flavor from anise, a liquor, that tastes like licorice. On paper, they actually sound gross right? Well they are awesome! So, shut it!

Chocolate whiskey cookies. These were not my favorite and could be a tad dry. The Old Woma…

Happy Birthday to The Old Man

Happy Birthday to The Old Man!

For this special occasion, I will relay a short but sweet story that I heard from my brother, let's call him Craig.

Back when Craig was in high school, on cold winter days, he would be eating breakfast and waiting to go to class, The Old Man would get up and make it to our one bathroom to shave. The Old Man has this shaving kit with a ivory white shaving cream brush. After he slathered on the Barbasol with the brush and shaved off the stubble, he'd splash on some Old Spice and make his way over to his sock drawer. Now his sock drawer was really a catch-all wood cabinet thing that we called "the bar." The Old Man kept all sorts of things in the various drawers of the bar, socks were just the icing. 

It was pretty dark outside and The Old Man would usually just have the little light on  in the ceiling over the bar. Now The Old Man had about 57 different pairs of black socks in the bar. And they all were different shades. His sock…

The Old Woman and the Christmas tree

The Old Woman loved Christmas. Every year, the day after Thanksgiving was xmas decorating day. She had her own Christmas store upstairs in the closet, affectionately known as The Camping Room. She had lights, center pieces, candles, garland, bows, light-up ceramic houses, bulbs, floo-flounders and tong-tinklers. The Old Woman had everything in plastic bags. She hauled them downstairs and the xmas magic commenced. In the early years, The Old Woman used the "normal-type" decorations. Meaning, silver tinsel and glass bulbs. Actual colored lights adorned the tree. I'll qualify this statement by giving a run down of The Old Woman's eclectic decorating style later. She would get this glossy crazed look in her eyes when she was in the middle of her frenzied decking of the halls. For many years we had a real Christmas tree. Those were the good years, and we used the normal tree trimmings. Probably in the late 70s or so, The Old Woman bought a fancy fake xmas tree, and that&#…

Divorce: Like battling your way through Russia, only to freeze to death in Stalingrad

I think that everyone should experience the searing blitzkrieg of a divorce. The old adage is true. You know, whatever doesn't kill you, makes you stronger. Well, unless your spouse hires a hit man. Now I'm not telling you to just get a divorce for the hell of it. That would be silly. But, if you are a big fan of drinking heavily, sleepless nights and giving all your money to cheesy divorce lawyers, the D-word is for you. So, live a little and suffer through it like you're in the middle of a cold Russian winter. The Red army is bearing down on you. You may make it to that last fucking transport plane out of despair. It's ok if you stay stranded. It's a good and noble death.