Oh how I love to fuck with tradition

I am so excited folks. I found out this morning that my folks are coming to town for the Thanksgiving holiday this year. And this fills me with glee. Tee Hee, Tee Hee. No, for reals. I LOVE busting out my inner Rachel Ray.

My folks are T*R*A*D*I*T*I*O*N*A*L when it comes to the holidays. Turkey for Thanksgiving. Ham for Christmas. Rabbit for Easter. They don’t deal with change much. In the last 38 years I remember one occasion when my dad bucked the trend and went old-school traditional. I don’t recall which year it was, it was either year one or two after meeting Jed, I had gone home to OKC for a (literal) 11 hour trip. I had scheduled my flight out of Austin at 6 pm on Christmas eve and my return flight to Austin was 9 am the next morning. The plan was to spend Christmas eve with my family and then make it back home in time to spend Christmas day with my boo. The flight landed in OKC at 9 pm without a hitch. But as I was walking up the covered ramp to the airport, I heard an unusual sound…the sound of ice pelting the aluminum top of the ramp. I got to my folks house in time for the 10 o’clock news and watching the weather they said OKC was getting NINE INCHES of ice that night (NOT SNOW…ICE) and that the airport was shut down indefinitely and the highway patrol was discouraging everyone from getting on the roads. I called several car rental places to see about renting a car so I could drive back to Austin, but nobody was renting anything under the current conditions.

As I was only supposed to be in OKC for 11 hours, I literally brought nothing with me except for a suitcase full of presents for the family. The plan was to empty, open, refill, fly. I had no clothes, no toiletries. Nothing. Nadda. Zilch. (Ironically, that was the year my mother also decided to stop buying me clothes for Christmas!)

So there the three of us were, mom, dad and myself. The sisters couldn’t make it in because of the road conditions. The three of us sat down for our Christmas…GOOSE? Have you ever eaten a fucking goose? When you roast a 36 pound goose in the oven, what you pull out is ABOUT 3 ounces of meat. The other 35 pounds melts away in the form of oil. What’s more, my dad, apparently, forgot about the fat content of goose and stuffed the mother fucker like you would a turkey. So the dressing that came out of it was saturated in goose fat. I could feel the arteries clogging.

The next year I convinced the whole family to come down to Austin for Thanksgiving. I was surprised when everyone said yes. Mom, dad, both sisters, both of their husbands, their combined total 7 kids, and Jed’s mom. I was going to do it up awesome. My dad, however, was horrified when I started bringing all the food out to the table. He actually looked as if I had climbed up on the table, dropped trou, and shat in his mouth. I had made cranberry/mashed potato empanadas; sweet potato/stuffing empanadas; turkey enchiladas; and pinto beans. I had also made and assortment of traditional pies. “WHAT THE FUCK KIND OF GAY ASS DINNER IS THIS? IS THIS SOME SORT OF HOMOSEXUAL AGENDA KIND OF THING? WHERE’S THE GOD DAMN TURKEY?” My dad was so pissed off with dinner that he insisted we call it lunch and then took everyone out to a restaurant afterwards for a “real Thanksgiving dinner”.

Two years later I convinced the folks to come down to Austin again for Thanksgiving. I made a promise to dad that I would make a turkey and have the dressing/mashed taters and all the fixings. HOWEVER, I never promised I would ROAST the turkey! That was the year I invested, heavily, in all the supplies to FRY a turkey. My dad was STOKED on that Wednesday night when he saw the HUGE turkey in the fridge. The next morning he woke up at 5 and knocked on my door. “Do you want me to get the turkey ready to put in the oven?” I said, No. 530 he knocked again, “Are you going to get up and put the turkey in the oven? I said, No. 630 he knocked again, “Are we eating at 1 like we always do, or is this going to be a later dinner?” I said, Yes. I finally got up at 9 and went into the living room, where the folks were watching the Thanksgiving day parade. I told them I was going to start the turkey. My dad was horrified, again, when he saw me fire up the burner on the back patio for the turkey fryer. “WHERE THE FUCK ARE YOU GOING TO PUT THE STUFFING?” I explained to him that we had made trays of cornbread stuffing to put in the oven later and that everything would be taken care of. “CORN BREAD STUFFING? WHAT THE FUCK IS CORNBREAD DRESSING? WHERE’S THE WHITE BREAD (racist) DRESSING?” He insisted on making his own dressing and started mixing it up in a bowl. We watched in horror as he dropped in three sticks of melted butter. He would have used 4, but we were out. “Since we can’t stick it in the bird’s ass, I gotta do something to add flavor to it.” Jed was crushed. JED had actually made the cornbread dressing in an effort to win the folks over. They flat out refused to even try it. Dad said it would be a cold day in hell before he came over to my house for a holiday meal again.

And the cold front moves in…

So I came up with a grand scheme this year. We’re taking Nate to OKC for his birthday on the 22nd of this month. On Sunday, when we come back to Austin, we’re leaving him in OKC. The folks are going to bring him down on Wednesday and spend the Thanksgiving holiday with us. And this time, I’m gonna “do ‘er right”. I’m going to do the traditional thing for them, and I’m going to knock their socks off. I can’t wait to let my inner Martha out.
Tell me some of your holiday traditions!

It should be noted that my dad is not a homophobe, however he is a racist. The discussions, above, about the "homosexual agenda" just makes for better reading than the actual commentary of a very old traditionalist.

Dear co-worker:

When you show up to work on “gay Christmas” in your pajamas and your un-did hair it doesn’t scream “creative”.  It just confirms what we already knew.  You’re lazy.  Please go home and shower and come back to work wearing something that doesn’t show your camel toe.

Got two issues here

And I don’t mean magazines. And this isn’t a snarky post. This is just (F)reddy being exhausted. But I wanted to touch base with my devoted fans, cuz I’ve gotten emails from my cousin, Larry, and my other cousin, Hot Eric, checking in to make sure Jed ain’t killed me this week. And I want to put all y’alls mind at ease. I’m still alive.

So. U.S. History betwixt 1692 and 1862 is kicking my historically challenged ass. OH MY GOD. This shit is boring. As mentioned, professor Geri was one of the original authors of the Independence of Declarations. She’s OLD. And for real, she forgets statements in the middle of making them. She literally reads chapters out of the book during each class (usually 3 chapters a class) at a speed that even dogs can’t hear or recognize. It’s not unusual for me to burn through two or three highlighters every Thursday night as I desperately try to keep up with the things she deems “important”.

So the last test I took I have never been more confused with anything in my life. You would think I was looking at a map of a vagina, rather than looking at questions on a history test. Taken directly from the test, “Which constructions was considered the most enlightened?” What the fuck does that even mean? JUST LIKE LABIA? What the fuck are THOSE for? Oh yeah…to keep sperm in. It’s all come back to me now.

I fully expected a D or less on that test. I almost nutted on the neck of the hot guy that sits in front of me when I got my test back. I somehow pinched a B out of my ass. I don’t know how, honestly. I vowed to do better on the next test.

So I came up with a plan. After writing out all my notes and transcribing my highlights from my books, I sat down with my handy dandy little computra and microphone and started reading and recording my notes. My plan was to put them on my iPod and listen to them on an endless loop for four entire days (test tonight) and absorb the shit. At this point, I now know more about the Monroe, Adams, Jefferson, and Jackson’s presidencies than Sarah Palin. Shit. For that matter, I know more about labia than Sarah Palin.

BUT there’s a downside. I have decided I AB SO LUTELY HATE my voice. Holy shit. I thought most of y’all were my friends. Why hasn’t one single one of you mother fuckers ever tell me I sound like Helen Keller? At one point (for about 20 minutes of the 60 minutes) during the recording I start sounding like Bradley fucking Trainor reading “Big Gay News”. This answers the question several people have asked…”(F)reddy, when will you be starting your own podcast?” NEVER.

Okay, so I got into work this morning and I had my skull cap on; my heavy grey hoodie sweatshirt; some stylish gloves; and something else on…oh PANTS. This woman on the elevator with me says, “Geez! ARE YOU A LITTLE COLD?” Fuck yeah I’m cold. I RIDE A FUCKING MOTORCYCLE TO WORK AND IT’S FORTY FUCKING DEGREES OUTSIDE YOU DUMB CUNT. Forty degrees outside isn’t, on its surface, horrible. Hurling down the street on a motorized bicycle at 45 miles an hour when it’s 40 degrees outside is a completely different matter. MY TESTICLES HAVE FROSTBITE. Do you think I NORMALLY look like fucking Rudolph? Give me a fucking break.

That’s all I got peeps. I’m alive. I’m alive. How the hell are you?

Feeding a family for $20/day?

I recently read on MSNBC that some governor somewhere was trying an experiment where she was trying to prove the failures of the state’s food stamp program that only paid out $20/day for families. She was talking about how impossible it was to feed a family of 4 on $20/day. I’m curious what planet she’s from. My calculations put that at $608.33/month for a family of four, and for my family we’d be able to eat like kings for $608/month. MY family food budget (FOR A FAMILY OF FOUR…PLUS 2 dogs AND BEER FOR DADDY!) is a mere FOUR HUNDRED DOLLARS A MONTH. Sure, we don’t eat a lot of steaks…but if you’ve ever seen pictures of us, we ain’t starving either. Perhaps a better idea, rather than whining about how “impossible” it is to feed a family of four for $20/day, this governor needs to be educated on HOW to feed a family of four for $13.15/day. It CAN be done. It CAN be fun.

This MIGHT be the story I'm thinking about...

Batter Splatter

Normally when I think of blasting my batter I think of Christopher Meloni making sweet prison love in Oz:



I was a little tickled this past weekend when walking through the dairy aisle of my local HEB when I came across a new product. I had to buy it, cuz I didn’t have my phone handy to just take a picture:



It’s an “organic” Batter Blaster, read: Pancake/Waffle batter in a can, much like a cheese whiz can, or a can of whipping cream. Is this product really necessary? What’s wrong with making your pancakes the old fashioned way?



Or better yet, the REAL way? I’m sure many folks don’t realize this, but before heavily processed foods, people actually used to make their own pancake mixes. (I’ll share mine with you at the end of this).

So I woke up early with the kids on Saturday and Adrian wanted some waffles. I was just getting ready to get the box out of the freezer when I remembered Christopher Meloni splattering his pancake batter on my chin. I dug out our waffle iron and dusted it off, and grabbed the Batter Blaster out of the fridge. 5 minutes to heat up the iron and then I pressed the nozzle:



It was simple…effortless. A few minutes in the iron and:



It was so simple that each kid got two and I even got one. (The can CLAIMS “30 silver-dollar sized pancakes”…or in the case of my family, 6 waffles). They were a’ight. In fact, Adrian loved them:



But I’m still not convinced this product was necessary. My dad, “Pappy (F)”, is the world’s greatest pancake/waffle chef. I don’t know if it’s because he makes them with lurve in his heart, or the ¼ cup of butter that goes on top of each waffle/pancake he produces. Maybe it’s a combination of the two? I thought he would take his world famous pancake recipe to the grave with him and I was always afraid to ask. My balls dropped last summer and I finally asked him for it. ALL these years I thought my pappy was a genius (and he may very well still be).

2 ½ Cups of flour
1 Tablespoon sugar
4 Teaspoons baking powder
¼ Teaspoon salt
2½ Cups milk
½ Cup oil
2 eggs
1 Tablespoon vanilla
And, of course, butter and syrup.

Wha? You don’t just add water? Dear Bessie. But wait a minute…MANY (if not all) of these ingredients are common household ingredients. You mean YOU can have hot delicious waffles for PENNIES rather than buying a can of Christopher Meloni love? Oh…just in case some of you are going to try pappy’s recipe, and are sticklers for rules, I feel I should point out that you actually have to COOK the batter referenced above. Don’t just mix it up and eat it…you’ll be disappointed.

Even I'm not gay enough to ride this cycle.

Last days of summer

Today I took the boys out on the lake on our friends boat. Joey and Eddie have been begging us all summer to go. Jed and I aren't "lake people." Jed is allergic to the sun, and I can't swim. Despite being morbidly obese and pasty white, we had a really good time.

Grant or Hefner?

Subliminal

So I'm sitting in the youth room of this Universalist Unitarian church where Adrian goes to Campfire meetings. The walls are filled with all kinds of affirmational type graffiti. And much of it makes sense. IE: "all people are 'people of color'"; "God is watching you"; etc. But then I saw the graffiti I posted above and thought, huh? What? Is someone trying to say they don't go to X-Tube anymore? Or is this some 14 year old that thinks by adding an "e" to X-Tube that old people like me won't know what it means? And I particularly appreciate how the "U" and "E" drips like jiz. That's not subtle AT ALL.

Hi Anxiety, how you doin'?

Y’all. (F)reddy is…

So you know how Adrian HAD been the “spawn of Satan” at school? Well, this week we turned a corner, sort of. Monday and Tuesday were BANNER days. Adrian did so well in school. In fact, he was quite the ham on Monday, when he got home he says in a low, monotone, saddish voice, “Daddy…I didn’t get no happy faces today. (pregnant pause) I GOT ALL STARS!” We celebrated by having ice cream for dinner. Tuesday, rinse, reuse, repeat.

Wednesday, following three days of excruciating diarrhea and lacking the energy to push a button on the remote control, I decided to take the day off of work. I was feeling a little better, and since I hadn’t shat myself for the better part of 45 minutes I decided I would go volunteer in Adrian’s classroom to read the afternoon story and help his teacher stuff the Wednesday packets. So about 1135 I ran up to the school and Adrian was SUPER excited to see me. He was THRILLED that I had come to his class to read them a story. When it was time for me to go he wanted to go with me. But I explained to him (okay, I lied) that Daddy had to go back to work and he had to stay in school. He gave me a big old bear hug and thanked me for coming to see him. And I left. And things were good. That evening, when I picked him up, I noticed he hadn’t gotten all stars that day, but had gotten a 50/50 mixture of stars and happy faces.

Thursday morning, after Jed left, Adrian came in my room and slapped me on the forehead and said, “Daddy, can we go to Ol’ McDonal’s for breffus?” (Yes, he really talks like that.) I thought to myself, “the kid has been really good this week…sure, let’s go to Ol’ McDonal’s for breffus” (cuz I talk like that too!). So I got up, got dressed and we headed out the door. When we got in the car he said he wanted to go to the McDonald’s with the playground. So we did. And when we got inside McDonald’s he saw all the toys they had for their happy meals and asked if he could have one. So I got him the breakfast happy meal, that is, pancakes so he could have the toy. And when he got done shoveling his artificial pancakes into his mouth he asked if he could play on the playground. By this point it was about 20 minutes before we had to be at school, so I said, “Sure, but you gotta play fast, cuz we needs to get to getting’ kid.” So we go outside and he runs up and down the slide 3 or 4 times. When he comes down that last time he says, “Daddy, I gotta go to the baffroom”, so we go inside cuz when my boy’s gotta poop, my boy’s gotta poop. We get inside and the stall has a sign on the door that says “Outta order” (for reals, it said “outta”!). So I tell Adrian that’s not good and we need to run home before he shits his pants. And he’s okay with that, and we leave. In the car I explain what “out of order” means and he seems to understand it. He says that he no longer needs to poop and wants to just go to school. Since I can’t smell any poop, I see no reason to go home now and we head to the school. As we’re walking across the footbridge to the school, Adrian spots the playground and says he wants to go play on the playground. I told him we didn’t have time now, cuz school starts in 5 minutes. What happens next is every parent’s nightmare, and a perfect example of why people who hate kids so much hate kids.

Adrian THROWS himself on the ground and starts sobbing and screaming loudly. You would have thought I just “open chest”ed him right there. Every person within a 1 mile radius could hear him and thought I had just punched him in the face. I told him to get up immediately. I told him how disappointed I was that I had done every single thing he had asked me if he could do that morning and how he didn’t say “thank you” one time for any of it. About the same time, the counselor of the school walked by and casually asked if everything was okay. Okay? I HATE being asked rhetorical questions. OF COURSE EVERYTHING ISN’T OKAY. MY CHILD IS LYING IN THE MIDDLE OF THE FUCKING GRASS SCREAMING AT ME AT THE TOP OF HIS LUNGS. I explain to her that he is angry with me because we didn’t have time to play at the playground. And she tries to divert his attention by telling him she likes his “smart jacket”. He replies, something to the effect of, “It’s a jacket you dumb ass. Jackets don’t have brains. Which apparently you don’t have either since you think my jacket is ‘smart’.” I explain to Adrian that A) he’s being rude, and B) “Smart” can have different meanings. I ask him to apologize and he tells me and her to both fuck off.

I grab his arm and drag him (SCREAMING, mind you) to the school. He “don’t wanna go”…and he screams this the entire way through the building. I explain to his teacher why he’s angry with me and she says, “He just wants a daddy day. Don’t we all sometimes?” I think to myself, “Uhhhhh, Ohhhhhhh, Ohhhhhhhh Unghhh!” (Oh, I guess she didn’t meant THAT kind of daddy day!). As I’m putting his stuff up he continues to cry and say he doesn’t want me to go…he wants to go with me…he begs and pleads with me not to leave him there. So I did.

I wasn’t expecting too much on his daily report yesterday. In fact, I actually expected a phone call from the principal. Again. But the phone never rang. And when I picked him up, before even acknowledging him, I looked in his folder. To my surprise he had gotten another mixture of 50/50 smiley faces and stars for the day. THAT was totally unexpected. And so I talked to him about his behavior that morning on the way home. And I told him that he would NEVER, and I meant EVER, go to Ol’ McDonal’s again. I told him not to ask. I told him not to whimper. I told him that if he so much farted and is sounded like and “E-I-E-I-O” that I would beat him senseless with a wire hanger and that he would WISH he had been adopted by Joan Crawford. And he VERY sweetly said, “Daddy. I’m sorry. I sorry I screamed at you this morning. I won’t ask to go to Ol’ McDonal’s anymore. I won’t fart E-I-E-I-O no more.” And it was very sweet. We hugged and I twisted the top of the hanger back together.

This morning Adrian came in and slapped me on the forehead and said, “Daddy. Poppa and Natan (Nathan’s name, apparently, doesn’t have an “H” in it in Adrian’s world) went to school. Can we go to the coffee shop?” And I thought, “WOW. How sweet. Adrian’s thinking of ME for a change.” So I tell him that’s a fantastic idea. We get up, we get dressed, we dance around the living room to the sounds of Disney. We shoo the bluebirds back into their natural bamboo cages and put the mice outside with a plate of brie. We place our prince crowns gently in their glass protective cases before we head out the door. We get to Genuine Joe’s and get our strawberry/cream cheese Danish and mug o’ Joe. Adrian eats all the good parts out of the center of the Danish and gives me his scraps to finish. And when he’s done he says, “Yo pops. Swig that shit, we gotsta go, school gonna be startin’ soon.” And I think, “WOW! WHO IS THIS KID?”

We get to school and we’re crossing the foot bridge. Since we’re a good 10 minutes early I ask him if he wants to go play on the playground and he says no. He says, “We gotta get in there so I can go to the box tops store.”

***SIDE NOTE: The school has a “store” where they have toys the kids can trade in those box tops coupons for crap.

I tell him that’s a GREAT idea. We run into the school and get in line at the store. Adrian picks out two Matchbox cars and we head to his classroom. I explain to him that he will need to keep his cars in his backpack so A) The other PWT kids in his class don’t steal them from them and B) his teacher doesn’t take them away from him. He says, “Okay, but I wanna show my teacher.” And I let him. And she appropriately “ohhhhhs” and “ahhhhhs” as I’m putting Adrian’s stuff in his cubby hole. I turn to Adrian and tell him to have a good day and, no shit, he throws himself on the ground and starts sobbing and kicking and screaming yelling that he doesn’t want me to go and begging me to take him with me. And today, it just pissed me off. I told him, sternly, to get up. I told him he was embarrassing me and himself. I told him if he didn’t let go of my leg I was going to cut his arms off so he couldn’t hold on to my leg ever again. I dragged him over to the side wall and told him he was in time out for not listening.

And the most important thing is, dear readers, THIS IS ALL AN ACT on Adrian’s part. In these screaming fits, when I’m talking to him, he does this thing where he can barely keep his 78 pound eyelids open. AS IF he’s crying SO HARD that his poor little eyes just can’t stay open. BUT (F)reddy KNOWS that they’re just BARELY opened a skoosh at the bottom so he can check to see what effect his tantrum is having on me. PUH-LEEZ Adrian. (D)addy invented the tantrum. Just ask your poppa.

I explained to him why he was in time out, and while he was in the middle of making himself hyperventilate, I stood up and walked out. I apologized to the teacher on the way out the door. And I listed, as I walked that long lonely mile of elementary school hallway, to the lovely sounds of my son SCREAMING and SOBBING, “NOOOOOOOOOOOOO (D)ADDDDDDDEEEEE. DON’T LEAVE ME HERE.”

Parents, please tell me it gets better.

Bitter childless homosexuals, no need to say, “See, that’s why I hate kids.”

My baby boy's first school picture

And he's pretty handsome if I do say so myself!

Let's get metaphysical

When I was a young(er) fledgling homosexual, a very dear friend of mine turned me on to the novel Illusions: The Adventures of a Reluctant Messiah by Richard Bach. His books espouse his philosophy that our apparent physical limits and mortality are merely appearance. I didn’t really buy in to all the psychic mumbo-jumbo, in fact, I thought most of the book was hard to follow. There were some really interesting ideas in it though. The book was given to me at a time in my life when I was isolated from my family. I had moved out of my folks house and didn’t have a relationship with them or my sibs for quite a few years. The friend, Grant, that gave me the book wrote on the inside cover of the book, "The bond that links your true family is not one of blood, but of respect and joy in each other's life. Rarely do members of one family grow up under the same roof”, which is a direct quote from within the book. And this really touched me at the time. In fact, it touched me so much that it formed the basis for pretty much every relationship I’ve had since that time. Grant, to this day, is still my “papa bear”.

I also think Richard Bach is full of shit since most of his later books revolved around his real-life wife, Leslie Parish and their “soul-matedness” and how perfect and happy and blah, blah, blah they were. At the time I was jealous of Richard and Leslie. At the time I was searching for MY “soul-mate”. I bought into his line of shit hook line and sinker. IMAGINE my surprise when he and Leslie divorced in 1999 and he remarried his THIRD flavor of soul-mate.

While I didn’t buy into the whole “wrinkle in time” theory, wherein our lives take off in different tangents from multiple points throughout our existence, I’ve been having these little daydreams ABOUT this theory lately. I’m not saying that I have a death wish or anything, but when I’m alone in my Jeep, or on my motorcycle, and I pass through certain events I have these reoccurring thoughts about the end of my life. And it goes something like this...

This morning it rained in Austin for the first time in 5 months. I HATE riding my motorcycle when the roads are wet. ABSOLUTELY hate it. But I had to get to work this morning, quickly, so I hopped on and rode down through Lamar. For you out-o-towners, Lamar is a major artery here in Austin that winds and curves through the center of the city. It’s a beautiful road, and one of the views that I remember so vividly about my first visit to Austin that inspired me to move here permanently. So I’m whipping through traffic on freshly wet roads and taking my curves at 40 mph. And once the bike was straightened back out and I was in a straight-a-way, I had this thought that I was looking back on my laying up against the curve with my neck and body broken as a crowd of curious people hovered over me to see the dead fool who took the damp curve too fast.

Similarly, I have the same thoughts as I’m driving down the road and a car appears to be pulling out of a dead stop, I get the same thoughts. Most of these thoughts involve me dying, and they leave me wondering, “what if”? What if I DID die in that moment, would Jed know how much I really love him? Would the kids know how much I love them? Would they know how very proud I am of them? What would their lives be like in 5 years? 10? What kind of citizens would they become as adults? Would they be tolerant of life and love? Would they even remember me? What impact have I made up to this point that would help form their ideas when I’m not here?

In this thought, I am already dead…but I’m not, because clearly this isn’t writing itself. In this thought I am living in Portland because I grew tired of searching, hopelessly, for love in the pretentious faces of the gym-bunnies in Austin…but I’m not, because I’ve found perfection. In this thought I never had kids and am a lonely alcoholic having anonymous sex in a bathroom at the airport…but I’m not Larry Craig, I’m still (F)reddy.

I’m not really sure what the point of all of this writing today is. I’m not depressed, I’m not lonely. I am, truly, grateful for waking up this morning, truly grateful for my life, truly grateful for the family that I’ve made for myself. I guess my hope is that each of you live in the moment and be equally grateful for the things in your lives, regardless if you think things should have ended up differently than they have. Because, really, that moment is already gone.

Baby I'm a star!

Icecream for dinner cuz my baby got 10 of 10 stars at school today! Stellar behavior deserves stellar treats.

Mini-him

"Fall" is my favorite season

Y’all, I am so stoked about fall being here. The temperatures have plummeted to the low 90’s and I’ve dug out my sweaters. I couldn’t be more happy right now. The new love of my life, Larry Klye posted a Twitter post earlier today that said he had just gotten to eat three different soups. And I was A) instantly jealous; and B) even more in love with him than ever.

I’m not sure if it’s a southern thing or what, but folks in Texas just don’t eat soup. This has been problematic for me in my love life, because I have NEVER dated a boy that enjoyed a hearty bowl of soup. Perhaps it’s because it feels silly to eat soup in December when it’s 80 degrees outside, or perhaps folks below the 31st parallel just never learned how to make it. I dunno. But every ex I can think of, and up to and including the current, have all looked at a bowl as a foreign object, unsure what the hot liquidy substance inside is. When they dip their fork in the soupy mixture and the meal falls through the tines, they look at me all confused like and go make themselves a sammich. HOW IS IT POSSIBLE for someone NOT to like soup?

(F)reddy has a couple of favorites. I’ve been known to branch out a bit, but I have my two favorites that I will NEVER turn down. And my pappy happens to make both of them the best. His chicken noodle soup has been known to make grown men cry. It’s DE-LISH-OUS. His second best concoction is his Split Pea Soup. I know there are more folks that hate split pea soup than love it, but I absolutely love my pappy’s split pea soup.

So in no particular order (EXCEPT FOR THE TOP TWO) here are the soups I dig, and why.

Pappy’s Chicken Noodle: We were PWT when I was growing up in Germany. Being in the military, I think my dad only made like $500/month. Of course our housing was covered by the government, $500 didn’t buy a lot of cigarettes and food for the family. So we ate a LOT of fresh veggies and soups. Soups are hearty y’all, yell. So my pappy’s chicken noodle soup takes me back to my happy carefree youth.

Pappy’s Split Pea Soup: There is a restaurant chain in Wisconsin called George Webb. My uncle used to own a few franchises of this place. They had daily soup specials. When we moved back stateside I would spend summers in Milwaukee with my uncle and his family and he would occasionally take me to work with him. I’d sit at the counter and eat soup all day long. I recall, back in the day, their split pea soup was the bomb digity bomb bomb. Jed and I took the boys to Milwaukee last year and we stop into the old Geo. Webb’s and I almost shit myself when their soup of the day board said SPLIT PEA. I don’t know if I’m just remembering it better than it was in the day, or if it was just a bad day last year when I had a bowl…but it didn’t hold up to the memory. My pappy, however, makes THE BEST Split pea soup EVER. He usually ALWAYS made it the day after easter, Christmas, and New Years. Cuz he always used the left over ham from those holiday meals. And his soup was chock full of big ol’ chunks of ham and carrots and potatoes. YUM!

Chicken n’ Dumplings: While not technically considered a “soup”, I can’t think of anything better on a blustery day than thick, delicious chicken and home made dumplings.

Chili: Again, not technically a soup. Some of you may have heard my mom was not the cook in my house growing up. HOWEVER, Babs made ONE HELL of a mean pot of chili. Jed actually turned me on to a new variation of chili when we started dating. Seems that growing up HIS family put rice in their chili…with fritos and cheese. Sounds odd, but it actually is a new favorite dish of mine. Marriage of two great tastes, definitely more filling.

Chicken Tortilla Soup: Good lerds. I eat a lot of chicken, don’t I! There are as many variations of chicken tortilla soup as there are variations in Mexican cuisines. I happen to enjoy the chicken broth based as much as I enjoy the tomato based CTS’s. I especially love adding fresh slices of Avacado in my CTS. Holy shit snap, delicious.

Plain ol’ Tomato soup: I’ve actually made tomato soup from scratch before, but honestly I dig me a pipin’ hot bowl of Cambell’s tomato soup mixed with 1:1 can/milk and a delicious buttery golden brown grilled cheese sandwich to dunk in it.

Broccoli Cheese Soup: HELLO? Vegetables…dairy. HOW CAN YOU GO WRONG? FABULOUS.

Bean with Bacon soup: Jed once said that bean with bacon soup was the foulest thing on the planet. I packed his bag and I keep it sitting next to the front door of the house. I told him if I ever heard such nonsense from him again that he is gone forever. DON’T FUCK with my bean with bacon soup.

Don’t know what to call it, so I’ll call it my sister’s soup: She calls it “tortilla soup”, I call that insulting. YES, I realize there are many variations of tortilla soup (read above), but this ain’t tortilla soup. It is, however FABULOUS. With an ENTIRE BLOCK of velvetta cheese melted into the finished product, how can it be anything BUT fabulous???

French Onion Soup: Dear god! Is there anything more divine than the hearty broth with a crusty piece of bread and bubbly hot cheese melted on top? Me thinks not.

Potato Soup: My dad actually made this, and it was tasty. HOWEVER, (F)REDDY mastered it by making…

BAKED POTATO SOUP: Throw in some bacon, green onions and cheddar cheese on top of the standard potato soup and you’ve got the makin’s of hot juicy man-love.

Egg Drop Soup: When we gets Asian to go, I don’t even bother with a spoon, I just sip this deliciousness straight from the container.

Cream of _____: You name it, if it begins with “Cream” it’s heavenly in my book. Mushrooms, broccoli, sumyunguy…you name it, cream makes it.

I’m not a fan of all soups, mind you. For instance, chilled soups? Foul. Soup should be served scalding. Fruit soups? Get a life. I’ll buy fruit in a salad, but not in a bowl. Also…and I realize I’m figgin’ to start a shit storm of controversy, but Menudo makes me want to vomit whenever I see it or smell it cooking. Not the boy band from Mexico…but the “hangover” cure that many people eat on Saturday mornings. Foul, foul, foul.

What about you? What’s your favorite soup? Feel free to send/trade recipes. I’ll show you mine if you show me yours!

Horse is the new black.

Jason Mraz, "Geek in Pink"...or hot damn delicious??? I say, DELICIOUS. Now where's my riding crop?

Not so subtle racism.

LERD do I hate stupid people.

So I’ve bitched and moaned about the level of stupidity found in the people in some of my classes at school. There’s one dumb cunt that I can’t stand that SERIOUSLY needs to take advantage of the “free” learning labs to help her make it through basic mathematic functions…but that’s not the only thing that makes her dumb She’s pushing 60 and I have no idea what she’s doing there. Not that there’s anything wrong with old people trying to better themselves, hell, I’m doing it. There also “ass face” boy, that makes me cringe every time his whiney high pitched voice rambles on and on and on (WITH PRIDE) about how he “dropped out of 7^th grade”. And lastly, there’s “Horseshack”, yes, the kid laughs like Arnold Horseshack EVERY 5 minutes about the dumbest things…and usually they’re things that come out of his own mouth. Don’t you love people who laugh at their own stories when nobody else is???

Last night I’m sitting in this class and the three of them are having a conversation that goes something like this:

Dumb Cunt: I don’t think I’m ever going to get this. When did they start addin’ letters together? This just doesn’t make any sense.

Ass Face: You’re doing fine. It’s hard for me too. As long as you keep asking questions, you’ll get it.

Horseshack: Hey, I got a new job yesterday.

DC: Really? That’s great. What are you doing?

HS: I’m working in a call center.

DC: That’s great. ESPECIALLY since you speak ENGLISH. You just don’t find that anymore.

(F)reddy: Well THAT wasn’t racist at all.

DC: I’m not racist. I happen to have lots of niggra friends. In fact, one of my niggra friends even cleans my house.

REALLY? YOU DON’T FIND YOURSELF TO BE JUST A LITTLE BIT RACIST??? You’ve got “niggra friends” and are put out by “non-English speakers in call centers”??? GOD I HATE THIS WOMAN. She ALSO seems completely oblivious to the fact that hottie professor has the English Chunnel between his ass cheeks. Because she constantly asks him shit about his personal life that he clearly is running out of ways to tell her he smokes dick. I don’t know why he doesn’t just come out and say he smokes dick instead of, “Ummm, I’ve never been married, I don’t have children, I’m afraid of vaginas because I think if I put my dick in one it [the vagina] might bite my dick off…” Seriously lady, GET A FUCKING Y=Clue + Life. He’s NEVER gonna DATE YOU so QUIT ASKING HIM FOR HIS PHONE NUMBER.

ACL 2008 Rewind

ACL 2008 Rewind
For those of you who like to read short, witty posts, this ain’t gonna be it. I'm sorry, but how can you shorten 39 bands in 3 days??? Feel free to skip it…but if you want to see videos, pictures, links to my favies (and not so favies), along with a recap of the event, read on my friend.

Our 2008 ACL experience began as it always has…early and drunkie. Jed and I hit the fields at 1130 SHARP (following a very large lunch at Hut’s!). The first thing(s) we did after getting through the gate were A) Get our first round of beers; B) Got our souvenirs (cuz EVERY year I say, “Let’s wait until the last day so I don’t have to carry that damn thing around”…and without fail they sell out of the shirts; C) Hit the “art mall” to buy some pressies for some folks; and D) plopped ourselves down in front of our first act. I told Jed when walking to the stage that I enjoyed Asleep at the Wheel, but that EVERY time I saw them they were playing “Big balls in cowtown”. And I’ll be go to hell if that wasn’t what was playing as we walked up. The band really does put on a decent show though, and BBICT really is a good song! The band I was looking forward to the most this year was my new favorite, Vampire Weekend. Our friend Kevin turned us on to them a few months ago and I’ve been obsessed with their album ever since. The show was really good. Our friends, Joey & Eddie, happened to show up midway through their set and enjoyed them as well. This may not matter to you much, but Joey is OLD and “doesn’t like too much noise”…so for him to say he enjoyed it is a BIG deal! Next up was Louis XIV. By the time we hit their stage, I was on my 3rd 24 ounce:



I was, seriously, feeling no pain. And Louis XIV rocked it out of the park. Next up we pulled up next to Jamie Lidell. He was a cutie pie, and had a really nice sound…from what I remember? Next up was Patty Griffin, an old timey favorite. She didn’t disappoint, but rarely does anyway. We pivoted in our chairs from her stage after she finished to catch Del tha funky homosapien. Ya know, call me an L7 if you will, but I enjoy all types of music, even hip-hop (And UNLIKE KENLEY, I KNOW WHAT HIP-HOP LOOKS LIKE). But this wasn’t music. This was just plain shit. DID NOT ENJOY. So we headed over to get an injection of the 80’s by listening to Mates of State. Yeah, I got taken back to Duckie trying to pretend he was into Sam, but knowing that Duckie would go limp as soon as Sam took her panties off and realize he was gay. Those were the good old days. And speaking of gay ducks…I can’t believe the dude in Mates of State ain’t. In fact, when I read the two were married, I nearly shit my pants. I surely needed another beer. Having ridded my mind of the “music” of Del the funky musician, we went on to Hot Chip. They weren’t…hot, of course, but they were a phenomenal band. They were so gay, however, that they made New Order look straight. Let’s not hold that against them though, mmmmmkay? Having gotten sufficiently lubricated and gotten my dance on, we headed to Slightly Stoopid and they were. Next we found ourselves dreaming about the good old days of classic Talking Heads by having a love fest with David Byrne. I take it back, salt n’ pepper DOESN’T look fabulous on everyone. We headed back up the hill to see N.E.R.D.. Now, again, I didn’t particularly care much for the band. NOT THAT I’M AGAINST ROCK-HOP PEOPLE…seriously, I have nothing against heavy metal hip hop. IT-JUST-AIN’T-MUH-STYLE. BUT we decided to stay because I saw the gayest man I’ve ever seen, besides LJ, dancing like a fucking pole-dancer in a titty bar to this heavy metal hip hop music. It was so out of place and out of context that I couldn’t help being entertained. The absolute most hysterical part of the show was when the band asked “Which one of you big booty bitches wanna get up on dis stage and shake yo titties” and the queen SQUEALED with delight and raised his arms above his head and gave the band his best “spirit fingers”. I nearly pissed on myself at that point. See for yourself:







We pivoted again after N.E.R.D. to cap off the night with The Swell Season. For those of you who saw the movie “Once”, these were the two folks in the movie. They’re now porking each other in real life. The sound was REALLY off on the AT&T Blueroom stage for this show, and it made it really hard to hear them.

The next morning we did the same ol same ol. We hit the park right after breakfast. Since we didn’t have to worry about pressies, we hit the beer first this time. We started off the day with The Black & White Years. THIS BAND was seriously my break out band for this year’s ACL. JED didn’t love them as much as I did, but then again Jed was being “affected by the heat” and wasn’t standing up watching these guys perform. Now I know there are some of you out there saying, “THERE HE GOES AGAIN…TALKING ABOUT ANOTHER AUSTIN BAND…THE ONLY MUSIC HE LIKES IS FROM BANDS FROM AUSTIN.” You know what? Fuck you. So what if we have some of the best musicians in the world. Deal with it. These guys, seriously, have the stage presence of a pretty Freddy Mercury. They took my breathsticles away. While we were standing there, this hottie came and stood in front of me:



Now, his face WAS decent too, but sweetie, if you’re going to be that fine and jump in front of me with your shirt off, please know I will always take a picture…Reluctantly we left back crack and The Black & Whities to go over to see Old 97’s. Alt country? WTF? We left The Black & White years for ALT COUNTRY? You know what “alt country” is? It’s people who weren’t talented enough to make it with REAL music, so they MAKE UP A GENRE. Alt country? Blow me. I tried to get away quickly to see if TB&WY were still playing, but they were gone…sadsies. So we headed to Fleet Foxes next. They were very CCR or Dave Matthews, or a marriage of the two. Which would be fine, except for the fact that I really don’t care for CCR and can’t stand Dave Matthews. It seems all of our stages were at the AMD stage and AT&T blueroom stage, cuz we, again pivoted to catch The Fratellis. This was the band that Jed was looking the most forward to, and they didn’t disappoint. They really rocked the roofless house. Another dude I was looking forward to was Jose Gonzalez, but after a mere two bars I was suicidal and felt like I needed another beer to feel better. It is so rude to make people want to kill themselves in the middle of t he day when they’re buzzed. It was more depressing than Tori Amos, for reals. So we loaded up some more beers and headed over to Band of Heathens. More alt country. In case how you missed how I feel about Alt Country, IT SUCKED BALLS. So being intrigued by the band name, we headed over to Man Man. Surprisingly they weren’t AT ALL gay. Nor were they at all good. I was beginning to think Saturday was going to be a bust…but then we heard the sounds of CSS. Now, granted, the woman fronting the band was wearing THE MOST HENIOUS OUTFIT I HAVE EVER SEEN, she was a performer along the level of …oh what’s that blonde girl’s name from that band No Doubt??? Her. They put on a really fabulous show. But I think she underestimated what the Texas “fall” would do to her hair. Sweetie, when it’s “fall” in Texas, IT’S STILL 100. Next we headed to see the lovely and talented, Ms. Erykah Badu. I don’t even have to say how her show was. (AND THIS ALSO PROVES THAT I DON’T HATE ALL MUSIC SUNG BY BLACK PERFORMERS!) She was amazing. She came on about 8 minutes (okay, she WAS EIGHT MINUTES LATE), and while I normally don’t appreciate my valuable time being wasted, I forgave her cuz she was so fabulous. Some of you may be wondering, by the way (as I got a text message from our friend Dean asking…during the show) “was she wearing her turban”? She wasn’t. She had her big hair on this weekend. Next we headed over to Electric Touch. They were AMAZING. They were the second best band of the day. And they completely made up for all that Alt Country shit I had to hear earlier in the day. Next up was MGMT. Now, I am not going on record here saying this was the largest crowd I’ve ever seen at ACL, cuz, really, after the sun goes down it’s difficult to gauge how large a crowd is at any given stage. HOWEVER, this show was at 530. WELL before the sun went down, and I would venture to say that more than half of the total ACL audience was at this show. It was an incredible amount of people there to see them:



Since we were already at the AT&T Blueroom stage and really wanted a better position for the Black Keys, we basically just pivoted from our position to catch John Fogerty. Now, when you hear people say, “Time marches on”, they must mean on John Fogerty’s face. Cuz the man is fuglerty. In fact, he should change his name to John Fuglerty. AND, John, sweetie. Was it TOO MUCH TROUBLE to come up with some NEW MUSIC? I didn’t need to be whisked back to NINETEEN SEVENTY. Jesus. So thank god he ended and The Black Keys came on to bring me out of my funk. Amazing show, really…really amazing. We left the set a bit early to get in a decent position for Beck. While we were waiting for his set, we were about 200-300 yards from the Iron & Wine stage. Iron & Wine should date Jose Gonzalez so they can date each other and put each other out of my misery. DEAR GOD. Kumbayah my lord, much? Oh, and for the record, Iron & Whine is FROM AUSTIN…so NO, I don’t like every band from Austin and hate everyone else. Beck put on an amazing show for the amount of show we saw. I don’t normally stay for the last shows of the evenings because A) they’re always the most popular artists and always the most crowded, and B) I don’t particularly feel like being one of 65,000 people trying to catch a shuttle back to downtown at 10 pm, particularly when each bus only carries 45 people at a time. So we stayed for five of Mr. Beck’s songs and then headed to the ranch, fat and happy.

Sunday was a bittersweet day for us. We said goodbye to Jed’s mom for the first time in 3 weeks. We sent her back to Galveston to deal with the damages of Hurricane Ike. And while we would have loved to have been there to provide her emotional and physical support, we had ONE MORE DAY OF ACL!!!! So we took the kids with us on Sunday. And there is NOTHING I love more than seeing a four year old dancin’! We started off the day with one of Jed’s ALL TIME FAVORITES, Nichole Atkins & the Sea. Since we were the 5th people through the gate on Sunday, we got close enough to see Nichole’s labia knot.



Her show was FANTASTIC. The kids were dancing. The music was fabulous. The beer was already cold. Jed was happy. (F)reddy was happy. It was a happy day. Next we headed over to the Austin Kiddie Limits stage to eat ice cream and watch Big Don’s show. NOW…BIG DON IS A HIP-HOP ARTIST. AND I ENJOYED HIS SHOW. So quit calling me a hip-hater. Of course it helped that I had some of this to look at:



And some of this…



Oh wait…that’s the same person. Bygones.

So we hip-hopped our way through the ABC’s before heading over to Sybris. We didn’t actually get to their stage as much as we got in the beer line across from their stage. And they sounded like something I would be interested in exploring further. We couldn’t deviate from our plan, cuz we needed to head over to The Kills. And these mother fuckers killed. They were awesome. Amazing. Stupendous. Adrian was crowd surfing. Nathan was thrown in the mosh pit and banging heads. They were great. Then we headed over to Octopus Project. Uhmmm. Okay. So it was 230 in the afternoon maybe? A SUNDAY AFTERNOON. And I had only had ONE beer. It was a bright sun-shiney day. Oh, and I had MY KIDS with me. They were HOUSE MUSIC. Which I actually enjoy…in a dark bar at 1 am when I’m loaded with WHISKEY. Next up was Tristan Prettyman. And she was. And she was just what I needed to hear at that point to bring me back to my happy place. We went back over to the Kiddie Limits tent to see if the boys had won any of their drawings for the day, they hadn’t. But I got to see this yummy character…







I like a man covered in tattoos. It’s muh weakness. And I also dig a man in a skirt. I had a raging boner when he turned around and smiled at me…and was missing his two front teeth. Guess what DOESN’T turn (F)reddy on??? Yeah, a toothless smile. So, back to the music.

Completely flaccid again, we headed to Stars. Another great band. They, again had a pleasant 80’s sound, and it, again, took me back to Duckie and Sam. We walked up the hill to catch Neko Case. Now, we’ve seen Neko before, when she opened for that butch quarterback, Rufus Wainwright, at Stubb’s. She puts on a good show. And while I’m not opposed to seeing bands at ACL that I’ve seen before (GHOSTLAND OBSERVATORY), Neko just isn’t someone that I feel I HAVE to ever see again. Kind of like my ex. Does that make sense? So we headed over to Jed’s other favorite band (who we happened to see at ACL LAST YEAR), Heartless Bastards. The put on a really strong show. One thing I found odd about their show though is they were put on a much smaller stage than they were on last year, and they had just as big of a following this year as they did last? That didn’t make much sense to me, but I was also drunk. Nathan, like Jed, apparently really digs them bastards too:



We then headed over to Okkervil River. I was expecting some bluegrass/banjo-y, cousin lovin’ music. These guys are, apparently, also from Austin? I didn’t hate ‘em? But I feel the same way about them now as I feel about Neko Case. The best thing about them was more delicious body art:



I was also, at this point, getting delirious from the heat. It was UNGODLY hot outside and all the beer had zapped any “real water” out of me. We decided to hit one more band and then run the kids home…since they had behaved so incredibly well through the entire day. We wanted our last band to count, so we hit White Denim. Nathan crashed out in the grass on a blanket and daddy rocked it like he was at his first White Stripes concert. They were amazing. Really, really amazing. And the most amazing thing happened while they were performing…the sun went down, and it cooled off an instant 50 degrees…and it felt beautiful outside. So we stayed for half their set and decided that I DID have the energy and stamina left to go see my IDOL, Jack White, performing with La Raconteurs.

OH

MY

GOD!

I had died and gone to heaven. What an amazing 2008 ACL.