Pics From My Phone #2

The following sign resides in my hometown. In the proper context, it is to keep children safe as they climb around on a bronze cow statue outside of a dairy.

But I think similar signs should find themselves hanging behind the bars of Athens, TN.

Pics From My Phone #1

As I was going through my phone's photo album, I realized that there are alot of pics that I've taken with the intention of sharing them here on the Wind. I just never got around to doing so... until now. This is the first in a series of pics that, for some reason or another, I felt were humorous. Hopefully I remember why I took them, and can share. Otherwise, we'll just have to try to figure it out together. And with that, I give you the first installment.

I actually took this one while the Wife and I were on our honeymoon in San Francisco. My reaction was "Look! He thinks he's a people!"

Perhaps the Jaguar hood ornament makes him think he's chasing a cat.

Mile High.

The Wife is spending the next couple of days in Denver. She claims it's for work, but I think the gastrointestinal repercussions of Bacon Week may be the culprit.

As she was packing:

Me: I need to stop at the bank and get some singles, since you're gonna be gone.

Wife: Oh yeah? And why might that be?

Me: Daddy's goin' to the CAR WASH!!!

Wife: While the cat's away...

Me: ...the mice do menial chores, baby.

Bacon Week: Day 7

Here it is. The final day of Bacon Week, and I needed one last dish. I think the best way to end it all is dessert. And what better sweet delight on a Sunday evening, than a sundae?

Vanilla ice cream, crushed Reese's Cups, Bananas, chocolate syrup, and BACON!

I don't know what dreams taste like, but I'm pretty sure Hershey's syrup and bacon are involved. Unless they're nightmares, then they taste like squash.

*Thus concludes Bacon Week. Thanks to all who have supported my in my time of excellence.

Bacon Week: Day 6

Saturday has brought about the realization of a childhood dream. I decided to make my own bacon-burger-dog, as mentioned numerous times on the Cosby Show. Unfortunately, I only remember it being mentioned and not shown. Upon intensive research (googling it), I could only find one clip picturing said culinary masterpiece. This is the best image I could get of the elusive BBD.

ENHANCE.

Hmmm. That still doesn't tell me much. It looks as though it rests upon a regular burger bun. But I can't tell what the physical make-up of the meats is. I would have to wing it. After trying to make burger patties with embedded hot dogs, I soon realized that it would be easier to wrap the ground beef around the dogs. I know the pic looks more a burger, but didn't mind changing my approach. Given that "dog" is the last word of the name, I feel that the intention was always to add the bacon and burger to a dog base.

For this momentous occassion, I pulled out the University of Tennessee grilling spatula that the Wife gave me last year. A wonderous spatula for a wonderous meat pile. I slapped 'em on the grill. Flipped 'em once. Slapped one into my belly.

Dreams can come true.

Bacon Week: Day 5

It's Friday. The Wife hasn't run her mouth too much this week, so I took her out to dinner. I had bacon and cabbage.

The Wife had fish and chips. I think she was in a British mood, because of the royal wedding. I think it was pretty tacky that they would schedule such a thing during Bacon Week.

Bacon Week: Day 4

For day 4, I made kabobs with chicken wrapped in bacon.



Much like Spider Man's symbiote costume, bacon wraps itself around its host to make it stronger.

It's like bacon-wrapped Spidey.

Bacon Week: Day 3

For day 3, I decided to go with bacon as a condiment, or fixin'. But to unleash it's full potential, I had to add it to something that would be hard to improve upon.

TACOS!

The Wife decided to just go with one small piece of bacon. She said it would be like a cherry on top.
While I can't agree with the quantity, I certainly can't deny the principal. I married that girl for a reason.

Bacon Week: Day 2

The BLT. A staple in the bacon world. A sandwich, in which, bacon is allowed to stand on its own merits.

What better candidate for day 2 could there be?

So, as I headed home, after a long day at work, the Wife agreed to start up some bacon cooking. I arrived home to the smell of delicious pig belly. I got some bread and added my "B" and "L". But no "T". I don't like "T". Seriously, I say F "T" in its A.

Half of the sandwich did not make it to this photo shoot.

Delicious, but I was not quite full. So I took a small flour tortilla and some spinach (we were now out of "L"), and added a couple more bacon strips. I call it a "BS wrap".

The wife did not allow me to continue without adding some cheese. I had no grounds to argue.

I did not care to wait for a picture to be taken.

Bacon Week.

Bacon! God bless it. I know there are lots of meats, and I love them all. However, pound for pound, bacon is your best bet for pure, unadulterated flavor. And I love it. Thus, to show the Big Guy upstairs that I care, I gave it up for Lent. Within two hours, I had regretted this decision. But I held strong and went 40 days without.*

So, now that Easter has passed, the bacon ban is lifted. I stopped at my local grocer to purchase a pack of pig meat for dinner. That's when it hit me. Why should it only be tonight? I should celebrate its return with a WEEK OF BACON!

That's right. Every day this week, I will be including bacon in at least one meal per day.

For it's return, I decided to celebrate the world's greatest meat, with the world's greatest meal: breakfast for dinner. So this evenings entry was French-toasted French bread with strawberries, banana, and Vermont maple syrup. I then topped it all off with 7 strips of delicious pork belly (only 6 strips are pictured below, because one found its way into my mouth before I could take the picture).

Welcome back, dear friend.

*In the spirit of full disclosure, I did unknowingly eat what I thought was a ham and pineapple pizza, only to later discover that it was Canadian bacon. But like all things Canadian, I don't feel that it should count.

Grass Kicker

Home ownership comes with some crap chores. Today's was planting grass seed. If there are any botanists reading this, could you explain how grass can grow through a crack in my driveway, but leave giant bare patches of wonderful dirt bare?

So, I figure this should be easy. I buy a bag of grass seed, throw it in the dead patches, water a little, and BOOM....no more dead patch. But then I mention it at work, and everyone has a different strategy. Read the bag, and there are directions. DIRECTIONS. For growing grass. And they aren't "buy, throw, water, BOOM", as I had expected. There's raking, fertilizing, spreading, blah, blah, hooey, blah. I started raking, then decided to go my own route. Throw a little water in the yard, throw out some seed, drop some top soil.

I don't need to follow your rules, grass seed companies. I think my indifference for the rules is what landed me the Wife. Now, I'm the bad boy of lawn care.

Watching the grass grow has been synonymous with boredom, until now.

Random Shower Thought #20

I should have given up digging in my belly button for Lent.

Random Shower Though #19

Captain America could probably get more done if he didn't always have people shooting at him. Probably didn't do himself any favors by painting a target on his shield. Of course, he's a bad ass. He can handle it.

Maybe not always.

Yes We Tan!

Today history was made, as the first person of color was sworn in as Speaker of the House. That color is orange.

John Boehner: Tangerine-American

Egg Snog

"I Saw Mommy Kissing Santa Claus" is a cute little song about a kid walking in on his dad (dressed as St. Nick) giving his mom a little smooch under the mistletoe.

But, when you're a kid, and you still believe Santa is real....well... then, mom is just a common whore.

Zip your pants, whore.

Seasons Greetings

Trying to shop anytime between Thanksgiving and Christmas can certainly put a strain on my good will toward man. But, seeing as I want to give gifts (or in some cases buy life sustaining foodstuffs), I will occasionally venture into the retail world.

It can be a trying time for a people hater like me.

But, I brave those crowds. And of all the people that earn my disdain, this year it's the greeters. On more than several occasions, this holiday season, these purveyors of salutations have failed at their sole duty. I can understand if a large swarm of people come ripping through the doors like cattle. Perhaps a calf gets by without receiving a word of welcome. However, when I walk in 15 feet behind the person in front of me, I expect a friendly how-do-ya-do. That's your only job! Person walks in, you say "hello", stand and wait for the next person to enter. That's it. Call it a day.

Now, I don't even want your damned greeting.....

NO! I DO! I want your greeting more than anything else in the world.

Maybe, I'll ask Santa for just that.

He'll get your asses in line.

Return From The Grave(yard).

For the past several months, I've been on the overnight shift. Today, I returned to the world of the living. It's nice to see the sunlight again, but I did learn a few things while living nocturnally.

1. Only 3 newsworthy things happen after midnight. Either someone has been shot, something is on fire, or somewhere has been robbed.
2. The human body is meant to be asleep at night. You can alter that, but it'll fight you.
3. The human mind is meant to be asleep at night. You can sleep during the day, but it doesn't stop the hallucinations.
4. There's a purple octopus that lives in the tape archive. His name is Russell. He's a swell guy.
5. I have reached a shade of pale that I didn't realize was humanly possible. Seriously, I put vampires to shame.

Despite these life lessons, I will miss the fine folks that I got to work with on the overnight shift.

Especially Russell.

Random Shower Thought # 18

Do Mogwai recognize daylight savings time? If not, feeding time has to get confusing.

Fantasizing QB

Sorry for the recent hiatus. I have no excuse (other than laziness). Let's hop on in to the fun, now...

I know I'm a little late to the party, but I would like to use this post to address Mr. Brett Favre...Farve...Favrve....

I'll just call him Bretty.

Oh, Bretty. What have you done? Sending pics of the little gunslinger is never a good idea. And we all know you did it. You wanna know how we know? Because you haven't denied doing it. This "I'm not going to discuss it" stance doesn't help you.

Now, I've never cheated on my wife. And, I've never sent pictures of my swizzle to anyone. So I can (with some certainty) say that if someone accused me of doing either (or both), my first reaction would be to profess immediately that I most certainly did not. That's how I know you did it. Innocent men don't calculate their responses.

Admit you did it. Take your lumps. I think a fitting punishment would be that you have to receive unsolicited penis pics on your phone for a year. And retire, too. I'm tired of hearing about you.

What really cheeses me is that this is just another case of a philandering athlete. And we, as America, really love the tabloidy BS of it all, but we don't realize we are becoming desensitized to how horrible this behavior is. Tiger Woods, Michael Jordan, Bretty... the list of unfaithful athletes grows and we don't seem to care. It's just part of the "culture of being a sports star".

Meanwhile, countless loving gay and lesbian couples (including some friends of the Wind) aren't allowed, under the law, to express their commitment in the form of marriage. The main excuse given is usually that it would undermine the sanctity of the institution of marriage. I don't see how homosexuals would undermine it anymore than some of my fellow heteros already have.

But, the Devil's Wind is not just a means of complaint, so I offer a solution. How about we allow homosexual marriage? Because people who love each other deserve that right, no matter their orientation. But, to preserve the sanctity of marriage, we disallow athlete marriage. They don't seem to understand how it's supposed to work, anyway.

Now, to hop back down from my soap box...

Who wants a fart joke?

Wardrobe Disfunction

Once upon a time, when the Wife and I first started dating, I would concern myself matters of wardrobe. Before I'd go to see her, I'd usually put on a button down shirt and ask my roommate, Kristin, to critique. That would result in a primping of the hair, and perhaps a change of a clothing item or two.

As time went by, I became more comfortable with my future bride. As such, perhaps a tee shirt was acceptable. Still, if we were to go out, I'd put on a nicer pair of jeans (perhaps a collared shirt).

Fast forward to last weekend. The Wife and I had been hanging around the homestead. We were dressed to relax, when we decided to go out to a female targeted cinematic tale (aka, chick flick). I realized just how comfortable I am with the love of my life, when I asked if I should bother changing my clothes. I think my actual words were:

"Do I have to put on good pants?"

We went slovenly, and it was blissful.