Caption Contest Winners Live From The Pub

I’m blogging the caption contest winners live from here:



Because they have this:



And this:




And I like this:



And this:



I'm kidless because Teen, who just learned about cleavage, has taken his younger boy cousins here:




For wings, of course.

And with strict instructions to swim in front of the lifeguard Daughter and Ten-Year Old are here:




So I’m here at Dogfish with Sister-in-Law, the only family member who reads my blog. Not because she is supportive, mind you, or even because she thinks I’m funny. She’s basically a busy-body and needs to know everything that’s going on.




She never shows much cleavage but she drinks, so I love her. Also I can blame her for choosing the slogan winner so I am not accused of favoritism.

AND NOW THE PHOTO AND THE WINNING CAPTION:




Beat it. No you beat it.



Wait...Sister-in-Law tells me this is the wrong photo. Guess that's what happens when you drink too many of these:



They are 9% alcohol you know. Sadly, I do not own any Bush or McCain dolls, although I do have the have this one:



My Girl Hillary.

ANYWAY, HERE IS THE CORRECT PHOTO:




Thanks to all who participated. Now personally I liked the caption from Andy of Andy's Weird Warped World:

Fonze: Hey Sonny, guess where my other thumb is.

But since this is a family blog, Sister-in-Law The Prude told me I couldn’t publish that caption. Plus that Andy guy drinks way too much.

SISTER-IN-LAW'S PICK FOR THE WINNING CAPTION IS:



I got you babe, no I got you babe. Fellas please. I’m a lover not a fighter.




Great job JD of I Do Things. Thanks so much.

Although, I do wonder if a Black American would use the word "fellas". Oh, wait a minute, I forgot. Michael's no longer ..... never mind.

First prize was the one-of-a-kind Diesel Daisy Earrings (notice the presence of a link there):



But sadly, nobody wanted them.

So I decided to give the earrings to Sister-in-Law for helping me out, but even she informed me she’d take the freshwater pearl ones instead.

So if anyone out there wants these the second in my Diesel Series, email me and they’re yours.

By default JD gets second prize my Xena doll as seen on the popular television series:



Sorry Unfinished, although you do score points for liking Cusack, so I am publishing this for you:




Also I really liked the caption from Damon at Try To Keep Up:

a tree hugger,
a boy mugger,
and a Potzie slugger.

so I picked out a special gift for him at a shop on Rehoboth Avenue:



I also enjoyed the caption from AoE at Army of Epiphenomenon because it works with both the Bush/McCain photo and the original photo:

Sonny: I want to beat it.
Fonze: No, I want to beat it.

He is the lucky winner of this:



Have fun AoE selling the toast on eBay.



So JD, Damon, and AoE email your addresses to Pegcypher at sbcglobal dot net to get your gifts.

And because adding all of these links has made me thirsty, I really must go and drink more of these:



But I am so not tipping the bartender because the asshat didn't ask to see my id.




Stay tuned for:

-Meg and Teen do the Virgin Festival
-Stalking Once Removed
-and Something Something About These:




If you now have the song "I Got You Babe" stuck in your head, visit Humor-Blogs and vote for all of these funny folks.

Meg's Fantasy Vacation

My fantasy vacation involves a West Coast beach and John Cusack. But short of that, I’m living my fantasy vacation at this very moment. No, you didn’t land at the wrong blog (although you could be intoxicated, I wouldn’t know). Meg is actually having the time of her life.

I know, I know…hard to believe. Meg is happy (it’s in vogue now to refer to yourself in the third person).

Most folks wouldn’t think a family reunion with 36 other people (21 of them kids) at a sandy destination with no dry towels in sight as a fantasy vacation.

But here’s the deal. No one’s locked themselves in the bathroom, or the keys in the car. There’ve been no meltdowns over ice cream, or animal products touching vegetable products on their dinner plate. Or at least none that I know about.

That’s because, by some oversight, fluke, alignment of the stars, heck intoxication could be involved, I wouldn’t know, but the organizers of this trip assigned our kids, in fact all the kids, to the two other rented houses.

Yes, I am vacationing in a house WITHOUT KIDS. Insert endless exclamation marks here.

We are in Rehoboth Beach Delaware. It’s a Mayberry-like version of East Coast beaches. There’s the old-fashioned boardwalk complete with arcades, Thrashers French Fries, and The Candy Kitchen. The Candy kitchen sells the requisite fudge and salt water taffy and it also sells rainbow lace licorice.

Yes, Rehoboth's a Mayberry-like attraction and a Provincetown-like attraction. Not only is there nothing wrong with that, sharing the resort with alternative life stylers means there is plenty of fine dining and home accessory shops.

But being kidless with great restaurants and shopping doesn’t make it a dream vacation.

This does:



Rehoboth is the home of Dogfish Head Brewery.

THE FREAKIN' HOME!!!

As many of you may know, I like my hops. And if you don’t know, I’ll tell you: I like my hops.

But not just any hops. My favorite beer in the world is Dogfish Head 90 Minute IPA.



But even that doesn’t make it a fantasy vacation.

After years of vacationing here, by some oversight, fluke, I prefer to think of it as divine intervention, we’ve been assigned to a house two blocks from my favorite brewery which makes my favorite beer.

TWO FREAKIN'BLOCKS!!!

In the interest of full disclosure: in past years some of us drove to the pub in the middle of the afternoon and got so hopped up we had to leave the car in the lot and walk 3 miles back. And walking 3 miles all hopped up is dangerous because there are all kinds of other pubs along the way and well, you get the idea (don’t worry, our kids have been well instructed on what to do if they get caught in a rip tide).

Anyway, I am kidless,
and two blocks from the best pub in the world,
and the best pub in the world has free Wi-Fi.

What could be better?

This:




The day we leave Rehoboth I’m heading to Baltimore to see Wilco at the Virgin Festival. As many of you may know, I like my Wilco. And if you don’t know, reread the previous sentence.

In the interest of full disclosure: the Cusack thing is really just a lark. I always wanted to use that word, lark. I think it’s United Kingdom for harmless frolic. The love of my fantasy life is really Jeff Tweedy of Wilco (I think Ms. Picket knows that).

And now I have my Jeff Tweedy,
and my hops,
and my Wi-Fi,
and the beach—which I promised the kids I would indeed visit one of these days.

***

Stay tuned for Caption Contest Winners Chosen Live from Dogfish Head. Or not, depending…

Until then, VOTE for this post at Humor-Blogs where there is a lot of lark.

More on Bangs, Nothing on Beer

I apologize for the silliness of this post. It's what happens when yott,;lk';;jm sorry my hands were shaky there....when you can't blog about beer.

Which brings up a question. Is saying you're not blogging about beer actually blogging about beer?

Anyway, thanks to everyone for their support--it seems more guys are over here commenting when I don't blog about beer (such as Dogfish Head 90 Minute IPA) than when I do blog about beer (such as Great Lakes Commodore Perry). But back to my bangs.


As requested, I will now reveal my latest effort not to look like Susan Sarandon. First, a disclaimer. Do you know how freakin' hard it is to take a decent picture of yourself?


There's the matter of the flash:



Then the positioning of the camera:



Decisions like glasses on:



Or off:



Or hair down:



Or up:



And after all that, you realize how stupid your bangs are (and that you need braces and botox) and you secretly wish you looked more like Susan Sarandon.

It's enough to drive one to drink (but not beer, definitely not beer).

And speaking of other bloggers who don't and never will look like Susan, JT at The Goth Mom tagged me for my first meme--three things my spousal unit would say about me. Most of them I can't repeat on my blog, but here are three I can:

1) I blog too much.

2) I talk about John Cusack too much.

3) I show too much cleveage.

Stay tuned for my next post where I reveal my cleveage. Just kidding. This is a family blog after all.

For more family blogs, go to Humor-Blogs and vote for me by clicking that odd little PAC MAN guy. It's been two days of not blogging about beer and I need something to look forward to.

p.s. is Pac Man one word or two?

Baseball or Beer? Don't Make Me Choose

And so the school year ends and the Ten-Year Old, a Texas Ranger, is playing against the Yankees. If they win, they challenge the Cardinals at 5:00 this evening. Which is a Problem. A Big one. My dear friends are hosting a fundraiser for their Unitarian Universalist Church at 5:00 this evening. Not that I'm all religious-like. But the fundraiser is a beer tasting.

With beer.

What to do?

My son is a pitcher.



My friends are beer connoisseurs.

And did I mention it's a fundraiser?

It's all about balance. So I go to the beer tasting instead of the first half of the game. And without trying to sterotype, you gotta love those UUs. They bike to their beer tastings, they wear Birkenstocks, they make great Costco gaucamole. And you get to know people like Pat (pictured with the lovely Mrs. Host in the background).



A few years ago, because Pat's significant other doesn't like to travel, she took her 16-year old grandson for a 39 day trip on the Oregon Trail while listening to ICP all the way there. On the return trip, she insisted he listen to her classical music. He slept the whole way.

Here is the host of our tasting wearing a Lord of the Beer shirt (more meaningful if you realize he's an American History teacher of Slovenian descent who does Irish Step Dancing).



Lord of the Beer begins the event with an Egyptian proverb: “Do not cease to drink beer, to eat, to intoxicate thyself, to make love, and to celebrate the good days.”

I couldn't agree more.

We start with lagers from Slovenia and work our way up the hops scale. We are told that the difference between lagers and ales is that one is bottom yeast fermented and one is top. Plus lagers are brewed at a cooler temperature.

Before the next selection is brought out, a Czech proverb is read: “A fine beer may be judged with only one sip, but it's better to be thoroughly sure.”

I take a few extra sips to make sure.

I stagger to the nearby baseball diamond. I arrive in time to wipe away the tears from my son's eyes because they lost quickly to the team that was stacked with the most "travel team" players. We return home (with the promise of a Webkins for being a good sport) and I stager back over to the fundraiser.

I'm oddly committed that way.

By now the UUs are into the IPAs (India Pale Ale). We learn they get their name from the British trade route to India where they stored the brew at warmer temperatures to help preserve it. ( I'm convinced if the Brits would have landed in the Middle East, they would have added hops to the toubouli).



We also learn there's a debate in the beer world about the trend to add extra hops, which raises the alcohol content to the equivalent of a bottle of bourbon. While the brew master of Brooklyn Brewry thinks this is like adding more salt to a really tasty dish, the Bells and the Dogfish Head folks think it's like adding more garlic to the hommos.

And after several glasses of double IPAs, I couldn't agree more. I love garlicy hommos.

Soon there's another quote: “Drinking beer doesn't make you fat, It makes you lean....against bars, tables, chairs, and poles.”

And then out come the stouts.

And the Belgians.

And the home brew.

And the continuous calls from kids at home, too lazy to make themselves something to eat.

What to do?

I fill a bowl with torilla chips and borrow a tub of gaucamole form the refrigerator. This is the beauty of friends who are Unitarian. They let you take things. I stagger home to the lovely family.

Before I depart, another quote is read. This one by Benjamin Franklin: "Beer is proof that God loves us and wants us to be happy."

I couldn't agree more.



Hey, I'm off to the West Coast again--this time with the family. If all works out, I'll have some scheduled "stuff" posted. If all doesn't work out, check out Humor-Blogs. My ratings are slipping there faster than my parenting skills.

Flashback Friday: Drinking While Blogging

Disclaimer: I’m not usually this whiny. Well, I guess that’s open for debate.

Anyway, last Friday I crashed the party at Bloghoppers where you hop from blog to blog and leave witty, insightful comments. Since drinking is encouraged while doing this, I was all over it.

Started at 5:30 and for three hours straight, I blogged and drank (Dogfish Head 90 Minute IPA with 9% alcohol).



In short, after three hours I was typing comments with one eye shut cause I was seeing double. (Thank God for the red spell check line)

Anyway, the blogs I read ranged from beer recommendations to a rape. I have to say, it was all very addicting, but I felt a bit sad that I was having a virtual Friday out instead of a real Friday out (and sad about the rape, of course).

OK, so after three hours of drinking and blogging alone,









three Friends showed up and we were drinking and talking and I was being the perfect host by engaging one Friend in conversation about home schooling and his son's hearing loss, being careful not to slur too much, and…

then I overheard Husband talking to Best Friend about…well, it all became a blur and I ended up quizzing Husband’s Best Friend on why he is opposed to my blog posting about MY SPOUSAL UNIT NOT BUYING ME A BIRTHDAY GIFT (if you want the whole pathetic story, scroll down…there’s pictures).

Turns out Best Friend doesn’t like the title of my blog and wonders why I prefer my fantasy life. I drink a bit more and tell him about life with four cars (one that works) and a leaky ceiling and kids who say they hate me, and a man, who after being urged by our kids (who weren’t hating me at that moment), refused to buy me a birthday gift. Several beers with 9% alcohol will do this folks.

Anyway, Husband left the room.

And I started to cry.

And Husband’s Best Friend sat next to me, put his arm around me and said really nice things, which I can’t repeat here.

And I cried some more.

And then in order to detract from my emotional meltdown, Best Friend’s Wife started to talk about the buckets of blood after she removed a dog’s spleen (don’t go contacting Peta—she has a license to do that).

In the interest of full-disclosure, Husband’s Best Friend and his Lovely but Blood-thirsty Wife did give me my one and only gift on my birthday – a wonderful basket from an antique shop.

And I’m just thinking out loud here…but if Spousal Unit and I split, and Best Friend and Wife go with him, does that mean I won’t get any presents?

So my point is: drinking while blogging is dangerous, but safer than drinking with friends in the real world.



And the cleanup the next day is a real pain.