Long Overdue, Friday Haikus

Ode to my Scale
I am so sorry
fighting for very long
again we are friends

Ode to J.W. Dundee’s Octoberfest
You are so tasty
enjoy in moderation
woke up with headache

Ode to “Futurama: Beast with a Billion Backs”
Beer makes me talky
Melissa missed out on you
Try again later

Ode to Bailey
What is your problem
You ate my new pattern
Ignoring you, hard

Ode to the Cats
Seriously
Where are you putting your food
I just fed you guys

Ode to the Lady in Front of me At Buffalo Coffee Roasters, Who CLEARLY had not Been to a Self-Serve Coffee Shop Her Entire Life, Even Though She Looked to be About Sixty
Get out of my way
Do not stand in front of urn
I need that coffee

Rednecks, White Trash and More Fried Food Than You Can Shake A Candy Apple Stick at

Last night, being the only night that fits into The Misters unrestricted schedule, we went to the County Fair.
Basically, we just go to laugh at the trash, pick up some homemade goodies for Bailey and overpay for beer; we did all three.

If you’re saying, “That looks l like a monkey riding a dog…” then you would be correct.
The “new” “show” this year was Banana Races, in which organ grinding monkeys ride shelter dogs.

I shit you not.

After that THRILLING attraction, we headed off for another beer and started counting how many booths were selling “ultimate jewelry cleaner!” and custom made t-shirts.
The people at the “Your birthday moon phase in a necklace” had me hook, line, sinker and ascending 1…

(it’s hard to take a photo of your own chest.)

Another beer later, we’re back at the creative arts building (which still smelled like grandma’s basement) so I can show me showing my photos.

“But Stephanie, where is your ribbon??!”
Yeah, that’s right, I’m a loser. And a number of the winners were losers, so that didn’t help.
(BTW, the beads came with our first beer and they’re for Bailey)
However, as Steve mentioned, at least I got displayed, so it wasn’t a total loss. And he liked my photos. I hope he wasn’t saying that because he’s sleeping with me.

Sorry for the glare on this one, but the alternate photo kinda looked like someone surprised me with an enema.

By now, it was dark and I love the midway all lighted.

By now, Steve said I should just have a plastic bag following me around.

Am I the only one kinda frightened by the fact that the rides look like a 1970’s throwback? I think that’s what makes me nervous to ride fair rides, though there is something romantic about the ferris wheel.

On our way out, we stopped to see “Santa’s Reindeer”. And seeing is about all we could do, as dictated by this sign.

I think that next year, I’m going to wear a t-shirt that tells the reindeer not to hassle me.

He totally started it.

Recipe Attempt: Slow Cooker Beered Pork Chops

As you may know by now, Wednesday night is Slow Cooker Night at mi casa.
In a never-ending quest to change up the menu for a man who can (and would) eat chicken wings seven days a week, two meals a day, for a month (or more), I opted to try Beer Pork Chops.

Steve and I have been together for the better part of seven years and in this time, I have NEVER cooked pork.  The closest I came is bacon and, well, if you were subjected to the bacon muffins, you know how that came out.
Fact is, I hate pork.  Granted I’m not big on animal carcass in the first place, but pork and Stephanie do not mesh.  Unless it’s bacon, then we’re kinda cool.

So I set-up the slow cooker with the following:

• Pork chops (I made four, thinking that Steve’s classmate would be eating as well, so all proportions are for four chops)
• 4 Molson Canadians (I Steve suggest halving this)
• 1 can of cream of chicken soup, whisked into the beer
• 1 packet of sodium-free beef bouillon (you can use 2 cubes or chicken or any combination)
• The end of a jar of jalapenos
• A hearty amount of Frank’s Hot Sauce
• Sprinklings of the following: garlic/onion/chili powder, chili flakes, montreal seasoning, seasoned salt, pepper

I thought I set the cooker for 8 hours on low (same thing I thought I did last week).

Good thing I went home.
The cooker was blinking like it hadn’t been set at all (thought I could have sworn that I heard it click on).
I placed the chops and liquid into a pan and brought to a boil.
Seeing as I don’t know when chops are done, I stuck one with a thermometer and it went to 140 degrees.  The chops had been boiling for a good ten minutes.
According to the thermometer, the boiling liquid was also 140 degrees and the thermometer now resides in the trash.
“How do you tell when pork is done?”, I ask Steve.
“When they’re done.”  Which is the same answer that I got from his friend, who then changed his story to say that it’s when they’re gray.  (how totally appetizing!)

According to Steve, the chops were done, but a bit too beery.  Imagine that.  Too Beery.  I never thought the day would come.

Stephanie overdoes things.

“I think there needs to be less bacon in the frosting.”

Tangled somewhere in the internets, I found an article about bacon cups at notmartha.com.

I went back a few days later and found a gaggle of articles about creative uses for bacon.  Including this recipe for  Beer Cheese Muffins with Bacon Cream Cheese Frosting.

Being snowed in (well, preferring not to venture out…) and having some guinea pigs friends over, well, you can guess what happened.

right, so (as far as I know) no one is sick or dead yet and my house still smells delightfully like bacon.
BACON!
Although I would use less then a cup of bacon for the frosting, it was a bit bacon-y, which I know sounds like an impossibility, but it kind of overpowers all the INCREDIBLY DELICIOUS tastes.
I didn’t tell the guinea pigs what they were eating, but the intrigue was increased after I told them that that was indeed bacon in the frosting.

My next quandary,  is it a breakfast food (bacon, cheese, eggs), a brunch food (bacon, beer, cheese) or a dinner food (beer, cheese).
Oh, I’m sure I can sacrifice  few more to science.
nomnomnom.
FOLLOW-UP
consensus agrees, less bacon in the frosting.  I brought the muffins into the office where it  is well-known that some of the shop guys will eat anything, and many thought there was just too much bacon in the frosting.

What I Learned This Weekend

What I Learned This Weekend, By Stephanie.

Labatt Max Ice may sound like a good idea, but it’s really not and it will lead to a lost weekend.

When people ask you where you found that beer and you start off by saying, “In the back of the cooler at the gas station”, you should transport yourself back in time and tell your past-self to put the beer down and stick to Labatt Blue.

Because frankly, no one likes a puker.