Thanksgiving has unexpectedly appeared in my rear view mirror. And like most Thanksgivings of late, memories of ’09 suddenly come to mind. That year, I volunteered to cook Thanksgiving dinner for the entire family. And like the dumb ass that I am, I decided it was the perfect time to try something new!
Being a fan of all things Cajun, I had always wanted to try my hands at the infamous Turducken…..you know, a chicken, stuffed inside a duck, stuffed inside a turkey…..coonass engineering at its finest. Now, I am sure for the true Cajun, cooking a Turducken is just another day on the bayou. But, for an over weight, drunken, city boy like myself, a “turphucken” (as I now call it) is a proverbial ass whip’n.
It is that time of year again…..That time of year when Vacation Todd rears its ugly little head. Retread Tres!
Vacation Todd is very different than At Home Todd. Vacation Todd wakes up, grabs a beer, pours it over his “cereal flakes” and then heads out for a full day of drinking, socializing and just having a good time. Unfortunately for those who accompany me or happen to be around me, Evening Vacation Todd can be a little hard to bear. You can pretty much count on one of two outcomes: passing out before dinner or those around wishing I had passed out before dinner.
After years of observations, Siete had decided enough was enough and implemented a new plan of action on our recent trip to Mexico. For the sake of the family and the sake of our marriage, Vacation Todd was only going to be allowed to stay for the first few days of our Forced Family Fun. Regardless of how things were going or how much longer the rest of the family might be staying, Vacation Todd would be leaving around day 4 or 5.
“I feel sorry for people who don’t drink. When they wake up in the morning, that is the best you are going to feel all day.” – Frank Sinatra
As we take our ride down memory lane, I can’t help but chuckle when thinking back to Squid Tres’ first day of vacation bible school. And as luck would have it, it was Uno’s first time to teach VBS.
Good VBS teachers are hard to come by and those that are good, know the importance of understanding their pupils knowledge of the subject. Good teachers will ask a few probing questions, get a little feedback and then steer the class accordingly. Logical approach for Uno…….
If you have ever had a conversation with any of my ex wives or believe half the schit I have written, then you are well aware of my eventual eternal position in the afterlife. Assuming the former to be false, then over my next four blogs, you should be able to draw a pretty good conclusion.
Each of my Squids (“children”) has his or her own unique talents and abilities. But the one commonality amongst them all is their command of the English language. Much like their father, I attribute most of this to early childhood experiences. If memory serves me correctly and often times it does not, somewhere around age 6 or 7, I was fishing with my Papaw on the Grand River. The fishing was slow and the afternoon sun was bearing down, “Boy, go fetch me a beer out of the cooler and while you are at it, why don’t you grab one for yourself.” With a schit eating grin on my face and thoughts of finally becoming a man, I gladly oblige. Wanting to savor every moment, I decided to take my time. First sip, this tastes like ass, but surely it is going to get better. I will check my bait and then try another. Reel, reel, reel, snag. Papaw, I think I got one. “You ain’t got one, you just got hung up. Jerk, jerk, jerk, nothing. Jerk, jerk, jerk, snap…… “GD Son, you could f__k up a wet dream. Now give me that damn fishin pole and the beer I gave you. You are obviously too damn young this schit”…….Damn my luck.
The mind works in mysterious ways. Often times, I find it difficult to remember my own kid’s names or what day my wedding anniversary falls on or better yet, how old I am (which I am now part of the 40+ demographic). But put in Smokey and The Bandit or Raising Arizona, damned if I can’t recite it line for line.
If you are easily offended, then you probably should stop reading my blog……if not, then here is a little funny.
A Cowboy walks up to this Indian and says, “Indian, can I talk to your horse?” Indian says, “Horse no talk.” Cowboy looks at the horse and says, “Horse, is Indian treating you good?” The horse looks over at the Cowboy and says, “Yea, Indian is treating me good. He feeds me oats, he washes me down from time to time and occasionally he combs my mane. All and all, life is good.”
I am somewhat at a loss for words right now, which poses a problem for someone who wishes to earn a meager living selling spices and writing a food blog. One might say that I have more give up in me than Lindsey Lohan has after three shots of Patron. But, as I have also been told before………duty is such a cruel master, so here it be:
I hate shopping. I hate Christmas shopping even more. Rude people; angry shoppers; teenage, punk-ass kids…..it is a wonder why I don’t enjoy it more. But,because not everything can yet be purchased online, I do have to venture down to our local mall on occasion.
Different than in years past, this year I devised a plan. A plan that was simple, yet clever: Go into a store, grab a gift, belly up to a bar. Have a couple of beers, go down to Victoria Secrets, find something sexy and revealing for Siete, muster up enough courage to ask the young, hot checkout girl to model it for me to make sure it fits and then find another bar. The process was to be repeated until I had crossed everything off my list. Perfect plan! Right…..right.