Tropical Tan cocktail

Stumbled into this while searching for ANYTHING to make a cocktail with, not a drink I'd recommend.

White grape juice (preferably Welches)
Vodka
dash of Malibu Rum

Add some vegetable oil and spread it on your legs on a sunny day and it serves two purposes.

Maybe Carnival Cruise Lines will buy this recipe from me.

Max and Ruby

If you have young children you will have undoubtedly come across the bland cartoon "Ruby and Max", if not be glad.

I have seen so much of this crap I want to reach into the TV and throttle Ruby for being such a holier than thou bitch of a rabbit to her younger rabbit brother Max. Ruby Rabbit is so saccharine  I get the hot spits just hearing her whiny rabbit voice berate her obviously cognitively impaired little brother. Why is it that Max is only given a vocabulary consisting on only a few monosyllabic words? Some episodes he only repeats the same word over and over while bitchy Ruby ignores or lectures endlessly about Bunny Scouts and making Grandma happy.

Where are their parents??? Never in one of the numerous repetitive episodes have I seen any parents at Max and Ruby's house! What kind of message is this sending?

Dear producers and writers of Ruby and Max,

Please tone down Ruby, give Max a few more words and find their parents soon! I don't want to scare my own children when Rabbit CPS comes along and puts Max and Ruby in to Bunny foster homes, unless of course they separate them and Max gets an education while perhaps Ruby scrubs floors or is whored out. This in fact might be a good way to conclude this inane cartoon and teach the Bunny world a lesson or two about parenting.

Take care and good luck,

Concerned Parent

I don't share.

I despise the word "MINE". I preach sharing with the fever of a evangelical bible thumper. Of course this is only within the context of my own children. I personally don't share. Most everything in my house is MINE.

I write about this issue today in this most glorious new year of 2010 because I wonder if I should feel more guilty. For instance, just this morning in an empty house (as it should be) I recovered my stash in the nether regions of my freezer, popped them into the toaster and five minutes later sat down and delightedly crunched into buttery hot cinnamon bread toast.

Not one of the 5 other humans living in the house know I buy Cinnabon Cinnamon Toast bread and hide it in my freezer (see the word MINE again). Why should they, it's MINE. I don't want them to know because then I will have to SHARE. I don't share.

As I type my olfactory senses are loving up the remaining toasty smell of my secret. Such decadence and it's all MINE. I suppose I do not feel guilty after all, what else does a mom have (besides coffee, which is also MINE btw)?

So I say hide your favorite things, food, whatever; don't share and enjoy what is YOURS only. We spend 90% of our time preaching to our children, take a break, rip off that cassock and turn the setting up on the toaster my friends.

Happy New Year.

No Candycane's for kids Coffee

1 cup hot coffee
dash of half n half
dash of peppermint schnapps
stir

Cheers

One for the night

Scene (Mom refilling wine from Box in fridge, haggard, still in PJ's, 4:50pm)

Child says "I'm HUNGRY!"
Mom says "Don't NAG me, dinner will be in 10 minutes!"
Friend on phone asks "What are you making for dinner?"
Mom "Fuck if I know, stop nagging and give me 10 minutes!"

Cheers