Queen Mediocretia of Suburbia

Saturday: from the Ridiculous to the Sublime

Saturday there will be fodder for this fodder-starved blog.  I go to the in-laws in the afternoon, then in the evening I go see Leonard COHEN IN CONCERT.

Leonard just has to make it to Saturday, people. I know he collapsed in Europe: as long as Nashville doesn't do him in then I'll see him. And hear him. And I am tired of those remarks. No one is complaining about what age has done to Bob Dylan's voice. Mmph. They both still sing better than I do.

At the in-laws we will celebrate sister-in-law Karen's birthday, which was over a month ago. We are actually celebrating a S______ birthday on a date deemed too distant from the actual birthday! Hard to fathom. We've changed seasons and clocks. So Gary is going into guilt-fueled overdrive with the presents. This is on top of the normal Gary overdrive. This is a GTO / BTO TurboBirthday! I would count the presents but I want to get to bed sometime tonight.

So, Saturday, excitement!

Smiles

A designated hitter (read: abomination to baseball, also, cheating) won Most Valuable Player for the 2009 World Series. Allow me to spit here right on the floor. Designated hitters are the whores of baseball. I apologize to any designated hitters reading this. But you are whores.

Therefore the best thing about the Series this year - except for the Cliff Lee Blasé Catch - was the series of American Express commercials with the found smiles and frowns.

And then, a few days ago, Steve at work shaved his head a little hastily, and left two clumps of hair on the back of his head - for eyes - and there was a curve where the base of his skull met his neck - for a smile. And I would have taken a photo, but he found a hat at the ready. Next time I won't tell him why I'm laughing first.

So this is the best I could do.

 
 
 

Cookies, Scandal, and White Powder

Gary called to ask the name of the Archway Christmas cookies he likes*. How would I know? "Blah Blah blah!" he cried. "Blah! Powdered sugar! Blah blah!"

"Wedding cookies," I answered authoritatively.

"I'm not sure! There are three kinds here and they all have powdered sugar!"

"Wedding. Cookies."

"Are you sure? They all look alike."

Sigh. "Buy them all."

Ding. We have an answer.

So he brought home:

Cashew Nougat
 

 Pfeffernusse

and Wedding Cookies

The first he tried was the Pfeffernusse. Pfeffernusse was popped into mouth. Pfeffernusse spat back out like a powdery ping-pong ball. Powdered sugar was all over his face. "Aaaagccchkkk!"

"Seriously? That bad?"

He instantly popped put another Pfeffernusse in his mouth. "Oh!" he explained, "I just wasn't expecting it to taste like licorice. It's delicious!"

So. We have lots of powdered sugar here in this house.

*Follow that link if you thought Archway was out of business or if you want to know why they haven't tasted as good since '83.

Follow this link if you want to see the television character who behaves the most like Gary.

Question for today: What is the Ultimate Casserole?

I ask, because my nominee is in the oven right now.

In our house it was called "Chicken with Crumbs." Mom's peers called it "Londoff Chicken," which could be an homage to Johnny Londoff's Saint Louis car dealerships. I know it wasn't local; it must have been printed on Pepperidge Farm stuffing bags.

Layer chicken breasts, swiss cheese, cream of chicken soup, Pepperidge Farm herb stuffing, and melted butter. Bake at 350, and I didn't even have to look that up because every casserole bakes at 350, it is the RULE.

The key to the recipe is the butter delivery system: the stuffing, or "dressing," or crumbs. Once we had a special dinner of "Chicken with Crumbs" served with "Green Beans with Crumbs" with a side of "Crumbs."

Now, others may say the tuna-noodle casserole with the "croute" of potato chips is the ultimate casserole, yet think of how many people don't like fish. (And I think we can all agree, we are talking the classic tuna-noodle casserole: egg noodles, can of tuna, can of cream of mushroom soup, topped with potato chips. This is the standard.)

Chicken with Crumbs has this Queen's Royal Warrant as the ultimate casserole. It says "suburbs!" What do you think? What would you nominate?

P.S. I define "casserole" as something mixed with something, maybe some other somethings, plus Campbell's Cream of Something soup, that you then bake at 350. Mac and Cheese with hot dogs cut up in it? Not a casserole.

I Am So Glamorous

How glamorous? SO glamorous that we missed the first scene of Desperate Housewives because I was screaming "I HAVE THAT SWEATER! THAT'S MY SWEATER!" Granted, the character wearing my red ribbed sweater was the stocky principal. But still!

Oh, and here is Rosie O'Donnell wearing the same sweater in black.

I may be fat, but I am glam fat, baby. Maybe some day I'll read about someone wearing Eileen Fisher clothing on Go Fug Yourself. That would be ... that would be like stardom!

P.S. My boobs are bigger than Rosie's and the stocky principal's. FYI.
 

Bitter Bitter Bullets

• A CONSTANT stream of morbidly dressed children came to our door Halloween night. Gary was proud he had bought twelve bags of candy. He has decided this is exactly the right amount. Earlier (at about four in the afternoon) he had decided what we REALLY needed to rope in the kids was one of those illuminated Halloween balloons that almost dwarf the house. (If you just clicked that link because you don't know what I'm talking about then you live in a) a classy neighborhood or b) New Zealand.) Happily, as soon as he decided we need a giant spider he realized that it was four and we couldn't buy one and get back by "four-thirty, when the little kids start coming out." So, just like a scary movie, I thought my Halloween torment was over and then it bursts up from its grave.

• So, when did baseball decide it could use instant replay? Evidently TWENTY FOUR YEARS AFTER WE NEEDED IT IN SAINT LOUIS. Yes, I'm still pissed off about the '85 World Series. I am a little disgusted the Worst Call in the History of Baseball does not have its own Wikipedia page. Like http://en.wikipedia.org/wiki/Worst_Call_In_The_History_of_Baseball.

   

• Tonight I had a nice call with Carol (The Forgotten Bridesmaid). She talked about running and how "easy" it is.

I said, "Yeah. Remember the time in high school we went running together and I collapsed on your front lawn and puked my guts up?"

An embarrassed laugh. "I think of that every time I run."

So, good. I am glad that every time Carol runs she thinks, "Keep going! Ellen would be puking right now!" I live to inspire.

Just a Short Update

There are twelve bags of candy in this house. What did we say earlier? No Halloween this year?

We are going out for breakfast. More later. FORECAST: SARCASM WITH GUSTS OF RIDICULE

The Globe Returns

I heard this morning the Saint Louis Globe-Democrat, dead nigh these 25 years, has risen from the grave.

One paper came to my house, and then Dad would bring the other home with him. I asked Mom once why she read the Post, and she told me about the Pulitzers and their creed.

"So why does Dad read the Globe, then?"

"Because he's friends with the writers," she answered diplomatically. Dad's office was on 12th street and he drank at the same bar with the Globe writers (example: Pat Buchanan).

No paper was expected to be wholly objective. The Pulitzers even had their platform published in the paper.

[We] will always fight for progress and reform, never tolerate injustice or corruption, always fight demagogues of all parties, never belong to any party, always oppose privileged classes and public plunderers, never lack sympathy with the poor, always remain devoted to the public welfare, never be satisfied with merely printing news, always be drastically independent, never be afraid to attack wrong, whether by predatory plutocracy or predatory poverty.

I don't know if the Globe had a published platform, I assume it was "always support privileged classes" and so on. I was young, so all I knew was the Post had the Weatherbird. A cartoon on the front page! Always indicating the weather and often the Pulitzer take on the headline.

While the Post had a cartoon on the front page, the Globe had offensive photos. About a week before the paper folded in 1980, the MGM Grand caught fire. If the Weatherbird had traveled to that page he would have looked upward in horror at the huge close-up photo of a woman grieving at one of the funerals.

At any rate, there was no kerfuffle in my house about the conservative slant of the Globe and the liberal slant of the Post. It wasn't FOX and MSNBC. If you didn't agree with the tone, don't read that paper.

Typhoid Me

Well, hang a black wreath on the cubicles next door. Two cubicle neighbors have succumbed to the Wild Boar Flu.

As a public health service I will list the symptoms of Wild Boar Flu (and I will try to be delicate).

Early Symptoms: Coughing, Fever (100.5), Fatigue, Dizziness, Lightheadedness, and a symptom we will just refer to as "Olive drab."

Later Symptoms: "Coughmiting" (the medical term for "Puke-cough") combined with "Coughrination." Also, "Going to Vegas."

End-stage Symptoms: Insomnia. Exclusively in males: muscle spasms, burning skin, lower back pain, nausea, toe pain. Also, upper or lower respiratory infection. Quacking cough which co-workers ridicule. Desire to buy all new clothing.

(I just realized! I dumped all my "lightly used" clothing on Marlo and Ann at work. This is like the Native Americans and smallpox! So ... we'll just see if they're in tomorrow.)

Man On the Cusp of Male Menopause

Gary refused to join me by the laptop to watch the fox.com replay of last week's pre-empted House.

Instead, he chose to stay in the other room and watch The Princess Diaries. This was his primary show.

His secondary? Soldier. 

"They're obeying orders, Sir. It's their duty."

"Oh, your majesty, in America, it doesn't always mean to be quiet. Here it could mean 'Wow, gee whiz, golly wolly ... '"

"Fear and discipline. Always."

"You know most kids hope for a car for their 16th birthday, not a country!"

"Your men... are obsolete."

This has to be some type of hormonal fluctuation. Oh, Princess Diaries is over. Now it's a double-feature of Bring It On and From Dusk Till Dawn.

To Sleep, Perchance to Get Sick

The elusive sleep found me yesterday just as the head of my department made a PowerPoint presentation. I stayed awake for that, but was asleep in my bed at 8:00 pm.

After I slept hard till 7 a.m., I woke up with a sore throat. I have decided it's because yesterday I coughed my Donald-Duck-Hacks-up-a-Hairball cough often because I skipped the cough-suppressant.

But now Gary has a sore throat too. We agreed if we have swine flu it will be nothing compared to what we've had so far.

I Hoard Jeans

I just finished the seasonal closet purge, and I heartlessly ditched suits I bought just this spring - not even because they no longer fit, or had worn out - because I had grown to hate them.

I can't turn my back on old jeans, though. You see here a progression of jeans, from 16w to 20w. This is several years worth of jeans. I think I must look back on them like old photos. See those18Ms? I wore that to Niagara Falls.

A confession: I kept my size 8 jeans from college for years.

 

I Do Have Some - Well, A - Standard

I am going back to Plaza Frontenac to purchase a few more Eileen Fisher pieces I can' t find on-line.

(Non-Natives: Plaza Frontenac is the old-money mall in town, anchored by Saks and NM.)

One has to dress up to go to Plaza Frontenac. In the past I have worn my winter hat: a felt hat with a bow that made me look a British nanny for the Royal Family. Saleswomen don't blow you off when you have the hat.

So I checked my shopping outfit: pricey sweater, cheap jeans ... and Crocs. I shop in Crocs, otherwise my feet hurt.

Crocs? To Plaza Frontenac?

Crocs with a hat? Would that fly? Would the hat outweigh the Crocs?

So,that explains why I have extra shoes in my car for when I go to The Plaza De La Frontenac. Crocs for when I go to dinner with assorted friends at McCormicks and Schmiks at the lower-class mall. Still I'm going to count the Crocs at PF, just to see. I'll report back later.

LATER: Zero Crocs. Not surprised...