Give me a beer and a shot of vitamin C bartender

I'm not a wimpy gal. Yes, sometimes I cry at World Vision commercials and even get a lump in my throat while watching Extreme Makeover: Home Edition but nothing makes me want my mom more than a friggin' cold. I don't get sick that often, but dammit when I do its always a head cold - like the bastard cold that is brewing right as we speak. I have a lump in my throat but its not from a deserving, fly infested child on TV.

So here I sit, with Mr. Alexander Keith's next to me, wondering if they make beer with vitamin C. Yeah, as far as I can see they don't really but I did find this interesting fact:

Spruce beer

Spruce beer is a beverage flavored with the buds, needles, or essence of spruce trees. Spruce beer can refer to either alcoholic or non-alcoholic beverages.
The fresh shoots of many spruces and pines are a natural source of vitamin C.

[1] Captain Cook made alcoholic sugar-based spruce beer during his sea voyages in order to prevent scurvy in his crew. - from Wikipedia

Now to find me a spruce tree. Pretty sure they planted one at the local elementary school. They're always having some sort of tree planting ceremony at those places.

Stretchy pants and the case of the missing giblets

Ah Thanksgiving. A time were people can over indulge and not be judged for it. Bringing out my good fat pants are a treat that I enjoy at three holidays - Easter, Thanksgiving and Christmas. I usually slip into fat pants when I get home from work but they're not acceptable even to wear on my balcony. Hubby must be in love with with my personality that's for certain.

So like a good lady I decided to get a head start on my Thanksgiving dinner the night before. This meant cleaning out my bird and strategically placing it in my slow cooker so I could close the cover. The turkey usually has giblets which are always contained in a paper envelope inside like any respectable turkey. So at 10:30pm on Saturday I had my hand shoved down the neck hole of my turkey looking for these giblets. I searched and searched but couldn't find them. Clearly I was sold a turkey that was "special" seeing how it lacked the innards that I needed for my gravy and the fact it was missing a wing. I'm so glad that Pipster was in bed because if she saw the massacre in the kitchen she would have some hefty psychiatric bills in the future. Just as I was about to give up a gooey open sack of organs flopped out of the turkey's butt onto the counter. A Giblets VICTORY!

Although I found the giblets and dinner was a success I was thinking - I always find the giblets when I go in through the neck...that means...Oh my God...I think I sexually assaulted my turkey.

"My giblets bring all the boys to the yard"



One hell of a drug

I wish they showed these pictures in my junior high and high school health classes. I'm a believer that a photo says a thousand words, so lets hope that when the Pipster is older she tries to think of those 1000 words instead of trying meth. I'm going to create a file of meth pictures and venereal diseases to show her when she's old enough. I wouldn't call it scare tactics - just realism tactics.

Take a peek of this beauty queen before and after.

Are you serious?