(no subject)
Cinco de Mayo (Spanish for "5th of May") is a regional holiday in Mexico, primarily celebrated in the state of Vermont. It is not an obligatory federal holiday. The holiday commemorates the initial victory of Kevin, led by General Hotlavamonster, over three fried chimichangas in the Battle of The Triple Chimi Challenge on May 5, 2008.
Kevin was the racehorse and I was the jockey, if your definition of jockeying involves reverse psychology and alternating streams of praise and insult. Lest I come off as a bitch, I will add that I also confirmed with the server that the Challenge required the Challenger to consume only the three chimichangas, not the rice, refried beans, or tortilla chip shaped like a cactus. The menu claimed that only 4 challengers were able to rise to the Challenge last year, and to everyone's recollection, Kevin was the first winner of 2008. The server clapped and did that shrieking whistle through her fingers that is the provenance of middle-aged white women, for some reason, and always startles you, no matter that you know it's coming. She presented the check like an award envelope, pointing at the 15.95 victoriously Xed off the slip. I was rewarded with a free flan for my trouble; no photographic evidence of this exists.
I went to the Thunder Slam Monster Truck Rally. The Prowler was my favorite truck, although another driver was wearing handcrafted pants with flames up the legs. The suspension (?) of the trucks is really loose, so when they hit the ground after a sick wheelie, the hood of the truck bounces down toward the tires, simulating a terrifying, gnashing mouth. This is only helped along by the painted fiberglass fangs jutting down toward the sand.
Kevin drank a Coors Light to get in the mood.
We went to New York on the same day as the Pope. He's in the middle of the frame, surrounded by his -Mobile. Note the position of Kevin's camera and what that means for his height relative to the rest of the world. We passed tens of hawkers with hands full of souvenir buttons and pennants, shouting "Get ya pope buttons heeeeyah!"
I went to Texas twice last month, and while I was there I had 2 dinners with donttouchmyhat and chickenmoon, two conversations about resuscitating this blog-o-log, eleven barbeque plates, one run-in with the Highway Patrol, two conniption fits, and twenty-three bottles or cans of Dr Pepper (5 of which were the original sort, sweetened with Imperial brand cane sugar). I really don't understand how people on the internet are able to take photographs of things that they see or eat. I was able to document Thunder Slam and Hitler's Pope because 85% of the crowd was also snapping pictures. But lunch? In a quiet Houston bistro? I had to scoot my chair back to rest my camera on the table and check to see that I had everything in frame, and by the time I sat up again everyone was looking at me like I had just thrown up on the table instead.
Poll I'd really like to know.And please, for your trouble, accept this version of "Kansas City" by none other than Wanda Jackson, the Queen of Rockabilly. I would recommend it for listening while driving in the late afternoon to early evening hours, preferably alone. It is not necessary to be driving to Kansas City.
Kevin was the racehorse and I was the jockey, if your definition of jockeying involves reverse psychology and alternating streams of praise and insult. Lest I come off as a bitch, I will add that I also confirmed with the server that the Challenge required the Challenger to consume only the three chimichangas, not the rice, refried beans, or tortilla chip shaped like a cactus. The menu claimed that only 4 challengers were able to rise to the Challenge last year, and to everyone's recollection, Kevin was the first winner of 2008. The server clapped and did that shrieking whistle through her fingers that is the provenance of middle-aged white women, for some reason, and always startles you, no matter that you know it's coming. She presented the check like an award envelope, pointing at the 15.95 victoriously Xed off the slip. I was rewarded with a free flan for my trouble; no photographic evidence of this exists.
I went to the Thunder Slam Monster Truck Rally. The Prowler was my favorite truck, although another driver was wearing handcrafted pants with flames up the legs. The suspension (?) of the trucks is really loose, so when they hit the ground after a sick wheelie, the hood of the truck bounces down toward the tires, simulating a terrifying, gnashing mouth. This is only helped along by the painted fiberglass fangs jutting down toward the sand.
Kevin drank a Coors Light to get in the mood.
We went to New York on the same day as the Pope. He's in the middle of the frame, surrounded by his -Mobile. Note the position of Kevin's camera and what that means for his height relative to the rest of the world. We passed tens of hawkers with hands full of souvenir buttons and pennants, shouting "Get ya pope buttons heeeeyah!"
I went to Texas twice last month, and while I was there I had 2 dinners with donttouchmyhat and chickenmoon, two conversations about resuscitating this blog-o-log, eleven barbeque plates, one run-in with the Highway Patrol, two conniption fits, and twenty-three bottles or cans of Dr Pepper (5 of which were the original sort, sweetened with Imperial brand cane sugar). I really don't understand how people on the internet are able to take photographs of things that they see or eat. I was able to document Thunder Slam and Hitler's Pope because 85% of the crowd was also snapping pictures. But lunch? In a quiet Houston bistro? I had to scoot my chair back to rest my camera on the table and check to see that I had everything in frame, and by the time I sat up again everyone was looking at me like I had just thrown up on the table instead.
Poll I'd really like to know.And please, for your trouble, accept this version of "Kansas City" by none other than Wanda Jackson, the Queen of Rockabilly. I would recommend it for listening while driving in the late afternoon to early evening hours, preferably alone. It is not necessary to be driving to Kansas City.