Candy's Excellent New York Adventure

HOT BLOGGER HOOK UP!!!!

I am pumped!

I'm going to the BIG APPLE tonite with my girls for a little excellent adventure and to meet up with my very first blogger!!! WHOO HOO!! Somebody pinch me cuz I must be dreaming!!!

Yup, I have arranged to meet with the fabulous, world famous, most ingenious, truly gifted, one and only......


wait for it.....


BECKEYE!!

Oh yeah, Becks and I are going to paint the town purple and talk all about you people and various celebrity dribble and all kinds of important chick shit and such!!!! And there is the very good possibility that we will be meeting with BE Earl of The Verdant Dude too. (I'm still waiting on his email as to whether or not he is in)

Can't wait. This will be my very first blogger hook-up. I think my buddy Scope holds the record for the most blogger meet and greets, he's got to have at least 10, I think. That includes the love of his life, that he found in the sphere, his lovely lady, Cora. He gets extra special bonus points for that one!

Anyway, I'll tell you all about it on Monday and Becks and I will discuss the possibility of pictures. Or not, but I can guarentee there will be pictures....

So get on it people and start spreading the news......I'm leaving today........I want to be a part of it!

Have a great weekend!

Smart-Ass Kids

My sister sent me this and I had to chuckle because my kids are just THIS smart. Brilliant, really. My mom always said that God is good and just and we would get ours when our time came...How right she was.

A father passing by his son's bedroom was astonished to see that his bed was nicely made and everything was picked up. Then he saw an envelope, propped up prominently on the pillow that was addressed to 'Dad.'

With the worst premonition he opened the envelope with trembling hands and read the letter.

Dear Dad:

It is with great regret and sorrow that I'm writing you. I had to elope with my new girlfriend because I wanted to avoid a scene with Mom and you.

I have been finding real passion with Stacy and she is so nice. But I knew you would not approve of her because of all her piercing, tattoos, tight motorcycle clothes and the fact that she is much older than I am.

But it' s not only the passion...Dad she's pregnant. Stacy said that we will be very happy. She owns a trailer in the woods and has a stack of firewood for the whole winter. We share a dream of having many more children.

Stacy has opened my eyes to the fact that marijuana doesn't really hurt anyone. We'll be growing it for ourselves and trading it with the other people that live nearby for cocaine and ecstasy.

In the meantime we will pray that science will find a cure for AIDS so Stacy can get better. She deserves it.

Don't worry Dad. I'm 15 and I know how to take care of myself.

Someday I'm sure that we will be back to visit so that you can get to know your grandchildren.

Love,

Your Son John

PS. Dad, none of the above is true. I'm over at Tommy's house.

I just wanted to remind you that there are worse things in life than the Report card that's in my center desk drawer. I love you.

Call me when it's safe to come home.

Nick That Name

Nick nack paddy whack, I love to nick a name.

I have this thing, at times it can be annoying, where I give everyone a nick name. It's an issue. It's a personal play on words and I do it all the time. Doesn't matter who you are, I will twist up and change up your given birth name to suit me. Can't quite figure out why I do it. It just happens.

Take my dogs for example. Buddy, Jingle and Amos. Three fine dog names who need no elaboration or explanation for most people. Me? Heck no, I gotta twist and turn. All three have "Asian" names. Don't ask me why, for I cannot explain.

Buddy is Mee Soo.

Amos is Mouser

Jingle is Miss Ming.

Then, I always take it a few steps further. Mee Soo just turned into Soo, which then turned into Soonie, which then turned into Soonie Bird which now stands at Bird.

Miss Ming turned into Miss which turned into Miss-a-Ming which turned into Mingy which some how resulted in Ga-ning which now stands at Ga. Weird right? Go figure.

Mouser tuned into A-mouse which turned into Mouse-man which turned into Mouse-sir which now stands at Sir.

These could all change when the mood strikes me. Then there's my babies. Given both strong and beautiful names, I had to go and mix things up and destroy the sanctity of their birth names.

We'll start with Frick. Without telling you her given name, I some how worked that name into Crinkle which ended up being Crink. It stuck. The ENTIRE family calls her Crink which I then variated into Mink, Minken or Miss Minky.

Then Frack, named after his dad, he was given a nick name at birth, so as to differentiate between the two. I turned that into "the (insert name here)-er" which turned into the (insert name here)- mo laker, which turned into laker, then twisted and now stands at just Mo. I call him Mo or Mo Mo regularly.

My Guy? He's just honey, but recently that has evolved into Hunny Bunny which changed to Bunny then Honey B and now stands at Honey Bear.

Bizarre. I know. I never said I was normal. I think it runs in the blood. The kids call me Momma, which somehow became Nummner which now stands at Num.

In this house you never know what you will be called, but you can bet it will stick whether you like it or not.

Ignorance Is Bliss

In case you've been living under a rock, I'm sure you have otherwise heard about all the racism bru-haha bubbling over the top of the proverbial pot and kettle here in good ole' Beantown. Here at ground zero, it's all over the news. It's on the front page of every news paper. It leads every news story. Every. Single. Day.

And it makes me sick.

Then, to make matters worse, our Commander in Chief, had to put his foot into his mouth and step into this hot mess that is at debate. Barry used a bad word and made a freshman mistake.

Big mistake. Huge.
Now he's got to back pedal like a paperboy on his bike riding a flat stretch of street while watching the sunset. Only Barry's not in the clear.

The charges here are serious and the issue has been hotly contested by both parties, leaving a "he said, he did" debate for the ages. The question is, can we move forward, or does this mess send us 500 steps back?
Mother may I take 200 steps forward? Sometimes I wish it were that easy.

Do any of us really think that a brew with Barry at 1600 Pennsylvania Avenue will make a difference?
It's possible.
It's interesting.
It's unconventional.
It's kind of ridiculous.
It's something, I suppose.
It's a start.

It's a travesty.

Two men, both in positions of power got into it and the rest of the world will suffer. Is this about two peacocks who didn't have enough room for both their tail feathers to spread?
Is it about who was higher on the power chain?
Is it about respect and the lack there of?

We may never find a solution or make peace with this one, but one thing's for sure; a beer with Barry is not the answer.

HERE is why. (click the linky)

The Good Drunk

Let's discuss for a moment the possibility of getting your drink on in a good way. Is it possible to be in the above condition in a good way? Probably not. Poor Linds, for sure, had some chemical friends running through her system to aid her in the process of getting her to this point.

I'm talking about simple alcohol, hooch, moonshine, Jesus Juice, whatever you want to call it, and nine out of ten times it kicks the-ever-loving-crap out of me. Anything over two glasses of wine and momma is in trouble the next day. I'm not dumb enough to forget that I am too old to re-live my college dorm days and live to tell about it.

BUT-Saturday night was that one out of ten times that I did something right.

The weather was surprisingly beautiful and My Guy and I found ourselves alone for dinner, as my daughter took her brother (shock) out to dinner with her friends instead of hanging with the rents. We decided to go to our favorite Chinese restaurant (I know-yet again) as I had a hankering for some sushi and the restaurant serves both Japanese and Chinese. The best thing about the Chinese restaurant is the bartender is extremely generous, and I usually indulge in a Mai Tai or two.

We sat at our favorite table, enjoyed just a small amount of food; sushi for me-Chinese for him and had a couple of drinks. Normally, after one Mai Tai, I am feeling the sweet effects of the concoction and can stop there, but we were having such a good time, talking and debating about our life, that before I knew it I had consumed two Mai Tai's quite effortlessly. On the ride home, I got a call from my best friend and her guy, asking if we were interested in lighting a fire and chilling out together. We were feeling no pain and were game! It was on. No sooner had we started a gorgeous fire in the fire pit out back, my friends arrived and we continued to drink some more.

I was out of my standard Captian Morgan's spiced rum, so Drunky McDrunkerstein reached into the back of the liquor cabinet, only to find some Gosseling's rum I had brought home from Bermuda a couple of years ago. Tasted good, so what the hell! We proceeded to drink some more. It was one of those nights that the stars were bright, the company was great, the conversation robust and hilarious and the evening went off without a hitch. We could not have planned it better, had it not just happened spontaneously.

Somewhere around my fourth drink I announced to the group that I was indeed, quite tanked, but feeling good. It was almost as if I had just realized it, as the inebriation was a compliment to the evening, not the center of attention. My friends guy is a liquor distributor and as we were making the fourth re-fill on the libations, he said,

"Who's drinking the Gosselings?"

To which I replied, "I am. I brought that home from a friend's wedding in Bermuda a few years back and never opened it. It's pretty good actually."

"It should be," he said. "It's 151 proof."

I couldn't believe it. Here I was, two drinks (at home) deep, on a 151 proof high. Now I'm thinking I'm going to pay for this tomorrow, but since I live for today, I never look back.

As most old farts do, we wrapped things up at a reasonable hour. I decided that I needed to take the precautionary 3 Advil tablets before bed, as I anticipated a killer hang-over and passed ou.. er, um, went to bed. I awoke Sunday morning anticipating the arrival of death. I opened my eyes and moved slowly. As my feet touched the floor, I realized that I felt fine. After my walk to the bathroom and back, I was still fine. No headache at all and no nausea. You could have knocked me over with a feather, I was ok. I felt no adverse effects of a hang-over at all. I couldn't believe it.

I got a text from my friend, thanking us for a great evening and commenting on the great time. I have no idea how I escaped that scenario unscathed, but I did. The good drunk it was, indeed, and I will not question it.

How's that for playing the odds? Maybe next weekend I need to go to Foxwoods and try my luck, as I seem to be rolling on a hot streak.

Here's To A Mother Of A Weekend

First let me say thank you bloggers for your kind responses to my baby girl on her very first guest blogger spot on the Daily Dandy.
She was very nervous about telling you about her group and asked me if it sounded like she was bragging. I, of course, told her that's what blogging is all about!! If you can't toot your own horn every now and again, then what good is it, right?
In true blogger form, she checked the comments throughout the day and was very pleased with the result. Except for Heff, as she was rather befuddled by your comment. (I told her you probably had a few too many beers and got Mr. Keach confused with someone else and that we still love you anyway. You know, we have to protect our spawn ;0)

The video was shot close to three years ago and since then, my daughter has become a teen aged girl of 15 years-old and no longer looks like the little girl in the video, (her hair is now blonde and she has boobs and she has a LIFE, you know, mom) but she nonetheless enjoyed sharing it with you.

I guess I inspired something deep in my little blogger daughter's heart because when I got home yesterday, she had sent me this little gem via e-mail. You think she was trying to tell me something?? I may have created a blogging monster.

Peace out, have a GREAT weekend!

Today's Special: Frick Is Guest Blogger

Hi bloggers! Its Frick. My mommy had to go to Frack's golf tournament really early this morning so we decided that I would be the guest blogger today :)

My mom thought I should tell you about my band, Girl Authority. We are a group of 9 girls who sing pop covers, geared for the "tween" market. I've always been involved in musical theatre. Ever since I was 5 years old, I've been preforming for audiences in local theatre productions. I've preformed in the musical Annie, I played the orphan Molly and the orphan Tessie twice and I played Oliver in the production Oliver. When I was 8 years old my mom took me to an audition for a professional company, Trinity Rep's production of, "A Christmas Carol". Stacy Keach, yeah that Stacy Keach, was playing Scrooge. I got the role of Tiny Tim. It was so thrilling and the production was great!! The show ran for about 4 weeks trading off alternating nights with a different cast of kids. All of my friends that auditioned got in with me!!! It was our first professional (yeah we got paid :) acting job. Stacy Keach was pretty cool, but I think the coolest thing was when my entire family came to the show on Christmas Eve and sat in the front row.

Not too long after "A Christmas Carol" , Rounder Records approached me and asked if I wanted to be part of a group of girls called Girl Authority. The premise was that the 9 girls chosen for the group would each have their own "personality". We recorded our first album entitled "Girl Authority". Our first album sold close to 100,000 copies (which is not half bad), and we toured the country singing our versions of pop covers. It was a blast! Not to mention that all of the girls that I grew up doing theatre with were in the group!!! A year later we recorded our second album entitled "Road Trip".

The second album didn't do as well as the first album, or as Rounder expected, but last summer we toured the country again and played to large audiences. They loved us in St. Louis and we really felt like rock stars. We opened for the Jonas Brothers twice, and that is how I met my future husband Nicholas Jerry Jonas aka Nick Jonas of the Jonas Brothers (a girl can dream...no but we are getting married) We also opened for Jesse McCartney, who is very attractive :) We even had our album commercial on Nickelodeon and ABC kids. That was kinda cool, especially when my friends saw it and called me to tell me they saw me on TV. I guess you could say that we were real life Hannah Montanas.

We are still touring and singing our Girl Authority songs, but since the record industry has changed we have only released a few new songs here and there, exclusivly on iTunes. I will leave you with the video of one of five original songs from "Road Trip". This song was written for Girl Authority by Vince Clarke of Erasure. Its called "Let's Get Together".

Can you guess which one I am? Hint: I look like my mommy, I'm one of the smaller ones, and I am one of the three lead singers. Hinty Hint Hint: I am Country Girl :)

Thanks bloggers for listening! I hope I didn't bore you...mommy made me write about this :)

Payton Is A Gangsta Manning

To continue yesterday's conversation about criminals in the NFL, my blogger buddy Chris from Maugeritaville commented on my Michael Vick editorial:

"Seriously, if you're going to ban guys from the NFL for being criminals, we'll be left with a two-on-two game . . . Peyton Manning and Greg Jennings against Kurt Warner and Warrick Dunn."

A great point. But I hate to break it to you Chris, as it brought this little gem to mind. (and dammed if I couldn't find a better clip of it. The voice is out of synch, but you get the point)

Yes, the NFL looks to be in great shape with role models like our poster boy Peyton.

Michael Vick Is Free, But Is He Free?

Disgraced and suspended former NFL Atlanta Falcons quarterback Michael Vick ended his 23 month federal dogfighting sentence yesterday. Vick's attorney announced to the media that Vick has been released from federal custody as scheduled, and Vick no longer has to wear the electronic monitoring bracelet that he wore during the last two months of the home confinement portion of his 23 month sentence. In other words Michael Vick is a free man. But is he really free?

29 year old Vick was convicted and sentenced to two years for horrific crimes against animals. Some would say he did his time. Others would say there is no redemption for the crimes he committed by torturing and killing dogs in his dogfighting den of hell. Either way Michael Vick will forever be synonymous with the evil crimes he undoubtedly committed. Granted, he did his time and hopefully his penance, and one would argue that he deserves some sort of chance to resume a normal life and live in peace. I would agree. But do we have to allow him into our living rooms on Sunday afternoons and root for him or his team with our families and friends? That is the question.

Vick's legal troubles cost him an estimated $100 million in salary, endorsements and his future earnings. If you're gonna do the crime, you've got to do the time. Pitty the thief who's not sorry he stole, but is so sorry he got caught. It was Michael Vick and Michael Vick alone, who ruined his legacy and quite possibly his life, so does he deserve a second chance in the NFL? I wonder.

Let's put aside his disgrace for a moment and troubleshoot his NFL comeback.

• Chances are Vick is in great shape. Not much else to do in Leavenworth except hone his 29 yr old NFL athletic quarterback body to a chiseled perfection.


• Vick has surely lost his timing, but how difficult is that to get back? Odds are he is hungry for a victorious return to the gridiron.


• Vick has been released from his former team, the Atlanta Falcons, in June of this year. Who would want him? Depending on his QB ability, post incarceration, which team is desperate enough to take on the PR nightmare that would be Michael Vick at hero position.


• What does an NFL with a highly compensated Michael Vick playing weekly say about America? What does an NFL without a Michael Vick, banned for life, say about America?

There are those who say that Vick has done his time. NFL Commish Roger Goodell wants to have a sit down with Michael about his future in the NFL and is quoted in today's Boston Herald as saying, "Michael did an egregious thing. He has paid a significant price."

Indeed, Mr. Commish, as I would not want to be in your shoes when the time comes to make the Michael Vick decision.

I doubt if Michael Vick will ever be free.

Mute Monday

Bob really should have listened to Leona when she told him to keep Fluffy out of the hen house.

Scenes From A Batty Life

INT. Master Bedroom- Last night-10 pm

CANDY has just finished her nightly ritual of washing her face and brushing her teeth before retiring to bed. CANDY turns out bathroom light and enters Master Bedroom where MY GUY is awake, but drifting off to sleep in the DIMLY LIT room. DOG 3 is laying on the end of the bed. CANDY hears a slight PINGING noise in the hallway, and quickly does a mental inventory in her head. Everyone in the house has retired to their rooms for the evening and all dogs are ensconsed safely in their beds. Quizzically, CANDY focuses a look to the direction of the hallway when a small black arial creature DESCENDS upon her.

CANDY: (SCREAMS) Ahhhhh! Honey, there's a bird in the hous...oh my God, it's a bat!!!

(CANDY immediately DROPS to the floor)

MY GUY:(JUMPING out of bed and DROPPING to the floor) Holy Shit!! It is a bat!

The bat FLYS frantically around the bedroom, DIVING to ground sporadically, causing CANDY and MY GUY to DUCK thier heads repeatedly. DOG 3, neither MOVES or REACTS to event taking place before him.

CANDY: (LAUGHING hysterically while DUCKING) Honey, get it out of here!!!

MY GUY: I'm trying!!!

MY GUY brilliantly crawls over to two small french doors, that open to a small sitting perch outside the bedroom and carefully OPENS both doors creating a large area of escape for the batty intruder.

CANDY: (still LAUGHING hysterically) Is it gone???

MY GUY: (CRAWLING over to the bedroom door to shut it) Not yet...

Five minutes of the bat frantically FLYING over head and DIVING ensues. The bat finally finds the open escape route and FLYS out. MY GUY quickly SLAMS both french doors shut.

MY GUY: (now STANDING on his feet) What the F was that??? How did that get in here??

CANDY:(returning to her feet) Honey, you are my hero!!!

CANDY and MY GUY gaze at each other in relief as DOG 3 ROLLS over to continue his evening slumber, unfazed.

FADE TO BLACK

The Dastardly Shart

A note from the editor: I apologize ahead for today's content as it may offend some readers. My bad. As Forrest Gump somewhat said, "Candys Daily Dandy is like a box of chocolates. You never know what you're gonna get."

My cousin told me a funny story the other day about her son and Disney World. Seems the famliy was enjoying a wonderful afternoon at the Most Magical Place On Earth. They had gone into one of the hotels for a character dinner and after the meal they stopped at the hotel game room for a rousting game of air hockey.

Evidently the food did not agree with her son because things were going great until...it happened...that dastardly little party crasher....THE SHART reared it's ugly head. My cousin said it was evident immediately, as her son's face contorted into a look of, at first surprise, then complete horror. He ran to his mother to inform her that he was indeed in a precarious position. Here they were in Disney, of all places, miles away from the sanctity of their hotel room, with a slight, shall we say.......issue.

What to do? What to do?

Seems dad took him into the men's room and they handled the problem like real men. They stripped the boy of his undergarments, cleaned up with the aid of some moistened hand towels and disposed of said undergarments in the trash receptacle located in the bathroom. Problem solved! Good for them that they did not let that little shart bastard ruin what was a fun family vacation.

I think the shart should be outlawed in all 50 states.

Mini Me

A while back, on some,"10 random facts about me" meme, I posted the fact that I love miniatures. I still have my childhood doll house, pimped out with awesome, life like mini-furniture and home accessories, rugs, lighting, etc, that would rival any museum-quality reproduction. In certain places in my home today you will find a few miniatures, here and there, tastefully placed as to enhance the decor of the room. My mom used to joke when I was a kid that I would one day marry a midget to encapsulate my love of mini things, (I married a mental midget, but that's a story for a different day) and both of my kids got the "mini" gene.

Having said all that, I consider myself a discriminating mini collector, as a coveted mini, for me, must have that certain aura of duplicity to send me into a frenzy.

By now I am sure that you have all seen the SmartCar.

Adorable, economical and all over Europe. I thought they were cute, but they did not leave me running for the car dealership wanting to make a deal.

Today that has all changed. I got an email that sent my mini-instincts into overdrive, literally! I'm not quite sure these are real or not, but I am more than sure that I want them all!!!

I present to you my mini fantasy.

heehee, The Smorvette! For those "just you and the open road" days.

The Smaudi A3, for the one child pick-ups after the soccer game!

The Smorche!! This one is quite possibly my favorite, as I am a Porsche owner. (My Guy technically is the owner, but I drive it more than he does)

The Smerrari! AHHHHHH! This one is so stinkin' cute I can hardly stand it!

The Smamborghini!! By BFF's hubby has the exact big version. G-Dog, this could be for you and Big's weekend driving!!

How could I choose between them? I want them all!

I think I'm in love.....

The Loss Of My Good Friend $Bill

I went to the beach yesterday. We had a great time. I took my daughter, (my son is away at camp) and we met my cousin and her children at Nantasket Beach in Hull, MA. It was an awesome beach day. The sun was shining, the temps were in the 80's and all was well. My cousin expertly packed a cooler full of good stuff; sandwich meats, bread, fresh fruit, Doritos, Fritos, soda, water, juice bags and other assorted snacks. We had lunch and spent the afternoon fighting the rising tide. You would think that we had everything we needed for a perfect day right at our finger tips. Almost everything.

Across the street from the beach parking lot there is a board walk with lots of ice cream stands, gift shops and clam shacks. So what's a trip to Nantasket beach without an ice cream cone to complete the day? And I always say,"When in Rome...". We decided the time for ice cream had come, so I wrapped a towel around my waist, put on my flip-flops and went up to the car to grab some money. I took a $20 dollar bill from my wallet, and since I was wearing a bathing suit, flip flops and towel, I folded the $20 and put it into the bra of my bathing suit for safe keeping.

Yes I did. This is something I have done a thousand times before.

I stooped at the bath house to go to the bathroom, washed my hands and as I was staring into the mirror, I noticed the money just barely peeking out of the top of my bathing suit, securely. I came out, met the group and off we went to get the summer treat. We walked a mere 1/4 of a mile to the ice cream stand and when I got there I reached down for the $20 dollar bill and it was GONE!!!!!!
I know it wasn't lost in the top of my bathing suit because there was no hiding anywhere in that suit, so I un-wrapped my towel to see if it had somehow fallen in between, but there was no such luck. It was then that I realized that it must have fallen out somewhere between the bath house and the ice cream shack and that with all the people walking around I could be more than sure that someone had picked it up in the few minutes since I made the walk over.

Now I know what you're thinking, no big deal, right? Yeah, there were a few moments of the "no big deal" thinking going through my head, but those were quickly replaced with feelings of complete loss. I was pissed. I was more pissed at myself for being so irresponsible. What a dumb-ass!! Granted, I had more money in the car, and that on the walk back to the car the lost money was no where to be found, but I couldn't help feel bad about it. What would I tell my daughter? What kind of example am I as a mother??? Most of all I missed my friend, Mr. $20 dollar bill.

We got the ice cream, but somehow it wasn't as good as should have been and I couldn't get my mind off my good friend $Bill. I though about $Bill while I swam with the kids in the big waves and rode the surf, laughing. I thought about $Bill as we watched an awesome Tall Ship (they were in Boston over the weekend) sail by on the horizon. I thought about $Bill as we sunbathed and my cousin and I told funny stories to our kids about our childhood. I thought about $Bill as I watched an old man in dirty, tattered clothing retrieving bottles and cans from the trash bin and I suddenly realized that $Bill was probably in a better place.

I decided that I didn't need to beat myself up over my irresponsibility any longer. Maybe $Bill became someone else's good friend. It's possible $Bill helped someone through a tough time or provided them with an essential they needed. Maybe $Bill fed a hungry child or made someone happy. I can live with that. I wont think about the other possibilities. I'll just think about my good friend $Bill doing Gods work, helping someone in need. It's the best way to deal with the loss of such a good friend.

My Girl Beckeye Is Eagle Eye

(Sorry Becks-I totally jacked this from your site)

Plagiarism is a dirty act, plain and simple. It is one of the first sacred rules you learn about in journalism school; one that you NEVER break. (See: Mike Barnicle) Heck, in high school, they threatened that engaging in plagiarism was punishable by expulsion or worse-criminal charges. Long story short-don't do it unless you credit your source. It's a bad move that can destroy literary careers and reputations and turn into a lethal career killer.

To plagiarize is defined in Merrriam Webster's online dictionary as:

to steal and pass off (the ideas and words of another) as one's own: use (another's production) without crediting the source.

to commit literary theft: present as new and original an idea or product derived from an existing source.

I tell you all this because my blogger buddy Beckeye from that FABU pop culture website, The Pop Eye, has loyally brought it to my attention that The Daily Dandy has been plagiarized....I know you're shocked!!! So was I!!! That's right people, The Dandy has become the victim of a horrendous literary crime, a plagiari-ee, so to speak.

In other words, I have arrived!!!!

WHOO HOOO!!!

I'm kidding....I take this sh*t very seriously and the fact that this person BLATANTLY passed off my words as his really pisses me off.

Becks sent me an e-mail alerting me to the fact that this clown, a "Mr. Ash gee" from the Indian website nhatky.in.com, jacked my American Idol recap post from the night Adam Lambert was in the bottom two. It's not like he stole a few gems here and there, NOOOO. He jacked the entire post!! Even my photo!! (which I jacked off google) It looks like he cut and paste the entire post, passed it off to his editors, and then went on about his day. Like it was business as usual, which I'm sure it probably is.

I never would have known........ but Mr. Ash gee, you made one too many fatal errors in judgement, dude. Beside engaging in "dirty plagiarism", you discounted the loyalty between fellow bloggers. Big mistake on your part, HUGE. My girl Becks totally had my back, and now you have been busted!!

The thing about this is that in my ORIGINAL post, I used a very conversational language, as if I were speaking directly to my Dandy readers about the previous nights episode of AI. Possibly not my best work, as I used a few "inferred profanities" to get my passionate point across. (Couldn't he have jacked some of my better, less profanity laced stuff? sheesh)

To prove my point, here is my ORIGINAL post dated April 30, 2009,

http://candysdailydandy.blogspot.com/2009/04/tragedy-and-comedy-of-last-nights.html

And here is the cheap, ripped off from The Dandy, "Mr. Ash gee"'s pathetic attempt at his own American Idol glory,

http://www.nhatky.in/american-idol-tragedy-in-last-night-12334436

Look, as writers, we all must be readers, and as such we are certainly inspired by something we read some where out there in the World Wide Web, but for God's sake, credit the source! If you lift an idea here and there, how much time does it take to add a link and cover your literary a*s???

SOOOO, as punishment, Mr. ASS GEE, or whatever your name is, I will send an e-mail to your purported employer over at nhatk.in and inform them of your blatant theft of my words and let the chips fall where they may. You only have yourself to blame.

As for us over here at the Daily Dandy, we take care of our own.

For one day only, as your American punishment, I urge my readers to please feel free to insert Slumdog and Seven Eleven jokes into today's comments.

Karma's a bitch dude.

Culinary Throwdown: Obamanation Meals

Today's is the day for Chef Troll's Culinary Throwdown, the theme is a budget meal/dish in our tough economic climate.

Oh baby, do I have a good one for you.

Since we must make a dish for an economically challenged wallet, I decided to conquer breakfast, as it is the most important meal of the day. Today's dish is simple, simple, simple, and good, good, great, but no calorie cutter-as this one is OVER the calorie limit, BIG TIME, but not the budget limit!! But we only live once and since we are on a tight budget here, we might as well be fat and happy, right??

OK, so I present to you my easy, yummy, Recees Peanut Butter Cup Pancakes.

You will need:

1 box of Bisquick-(I don't care what anyone says, Bisquick makes a perfect pancake)

1 Reeces Peanut Butter Cup Candy Bar

1 serving of Aunt Jemima Maple Syrup

1 can of Pam cooking spray

1 egg

milk-

Follow directions on Bisquick box to make pancake batter.

I halved the recipie to cut costs for my small family.

Spray Pam cooking spray lightly onto fry pan and heat till droplets of water sizzle on hot surface.

Pour batter onto hot skillet and let rise, reducing temp slightly to avoid burning pancake.

Chop Reeses candy into small 1/4 cubes-a little bigger than the size of a dime-(in my excitment, I forgot to take a shot of the chopped up Reeses Peanut Butter Cup so this is a re-enactment with chocolate chips, which are no way near as good as Reeses)

Add chopped Reeses to uncooked side of pancake, just before flipping.

Ah Voila!!! The most delactable, delightful, inexpensive pancake you will ever love!!!

Total cost for dish-

Bisquick-$2.59-I used one cup of the large box for the recipe-so it was practically free.

Reeses Peanut Butter Cup- .75 cents.

milk-1/2 cup of a $3.49 gallon-again, pennies.

1 egg-1/12 of a $1.89 dozen=pennies.

1 serving of $1.79 bottle of Aunt Jemima's Maple syrup.

Total cost of all ingredients amout to a little over $10.00-my estimate on my dish would be for less than $5 bucks.

Livin la vida loca!

My Latest Victim

The Goddess of the Skull has struck again.

It's almost like Guiseppe Zanotti made these sandals just for me!!! They make me smile.

If you don't know who the Goddess of the Skull is, please proceed here, and for those of you with a foot fetish, those may or may not be my feet.
(back away from the computer-pervert)

And I Wonder Why?

To think, a Masters Degree just isn't what it used to be.


So after landing my new job as a Wal-Mart greeter,
I lasted less than a day......
About two hours into my first day on the job a very loud,
unattractive, mean-acting woman walked into the store with her two kids,
Yelling obscenities at them all the way through the entrance.
As I had been instructed, I said pleasantly,

'Good morning and welcome to Wal-Mart.
Nice children you have there. Are they twins?'

The ugly woman stopped yelling long enough to say,
No, they ain't twins. The oldest one's 9, and the other one's 7.
Why the world would you think they're twins? Are you blind, or just stupid?'

So I replied, 'I'm neither blind nor stupid, Ma'am,
I just couldn't believe someone slept with you twice.
Have a good day and thank you for shopping at Wal-Mart.'

My supervisor said I probably wasn't cut out for this line of work

Our Golden Boy No-mar

When the news was announced, the shock waves left a deafening silence throughout the nation. Children cried and grown men questioned what was real in the game they loved so much, shaking their heads in disbelief. We grieved as if he had passed, his name on the lips of everyone that July 31, 2004. He was our face of hope, the only bright spot in those dark, cursed days at Fenway and as much a part of the historied baseball legacy of his team as the uniform he put on every day he was here. Then, in an instant, he was gone.

A bold move for an unknown, young, general manager still cutting his teeth on a team that is adored by a nation. Theo Epstein instantly became an enigma with some serious balls for trading away the franchise for Single A outfield prospect Matt Murton and two former Gold Glovers, shortstop Orlando Cabrera from the Montreal Expos and first baseman Doug Mientkiewicz from the Twins. There are those who believe that move was the main reason the Red Sox went on to win their first World Series title in 86 years. The same people who cried were once again cheering, and Epstien became our new hero.

Nomar Garciaparra was shipped off to Chicago in the midst of what some experts called a possible "Hall of Fame" career. Last night Nomar returned to Fenway, his first time since he was traded, playing for his third team in five years in a career that has been riddled with injury and disappointment. He told the press last night at a pregame press conference, "When I got traded, I was on the road and never got to say 'thank you'," he said. Last night, at his first at-bat at Fenway, he got his wish.

The Boston Herald's Ron Borges explained the extraordinary emotional moment last night at the plate. "Garciaparra waved his Oakland A's batting helmet and the roar grew louder. he turned from side to side, acknowledging each part of the park with a wave. The roar increased. Then, his head bowed from the emotion of what he was receiving, he turned and patted his heart and then clapped back."

Nomar got what he so rightly deserved. The love of and admiration of an undying nation, who were grateful for what he gave when he played here. Even though Nomar plays for another team, the faithful at Fenway let him know, last night, that he will always be a Red Sox and that we love him like our own. He let us know that he loves us right back. It was one of those special moments that will live on in the hearts of Red Sox fans and in the highlight reel of Mr. Garciaparra's career.

Thanks Nomar. We love you too.

The Gluttony Of Chinese Eating

Why is it that when ordering Chinese food you end up ordering wayyyy more than you need? What is it about Chinese that turns you into a gluttonous pig who has to devour every thing? When we eat Chinese it's almost like the last supper, as everyone needs to order their favorite dishes and spoons far more food onto their plates than they should.

Let's say you go to your favorite steak house. Do you ever end up ordering 5 or 6 appetizers and then 3 or 4 main dishes? Not likely. What about Italian? Do you ever end up with numerous entrees and box the rest to take home? It's more likely that where ever you eat, besides Chinese, you possibly order one appetizer, one entree and if you don't finish it, you take the rest home. Right? So why do we cram fork-fulls of Chinese into our mouths like the apocalypse is about to descend upon us? Then, after the bountiful banquet of Chinese has been consumed, we leave the restaurant, with stomach's fully distressed, to go home and feel the need for something more to eat a mere 2 to 3 hours later. What gives?

I have my favorites at the Chinese restaurant, and I guess I would feel a sense of loss of I did not consume a small amount of each dish when I am eating Chinese. For instance, I love egg roll, and I have to have some Crab Rangoon and steamed vegetarian dumplings. But then those chicken fingers and chicken wings look awfully good, so I have to try those also. My Guy loves beef terriaki on a stick and my son loves Peking Ravioli, so I need to taste a little of those too. Boneless spareribs for my daughter, and those are just the appetizers! Then comes the main entrees. The kids love chicken lo mein and General Gau Chicken with fried rice, then I have to have my spicy string beans and chicken and shrimp dish as well as a sizzling beef with onions dish and what the hell; lets get the shrimp with lobster sauce and try the basil chicken special!

You see where this is headed?
I'm feeling sick all over again. The worst part is, that after all that gluttony, we take home the left overs, but no one wants to touch them because we made such pigs out of ourselves the night before. After a feast like that I have just about had my fill of Chinese for at least a few days.

Then someone mentions the restaurant's wonderful lunch buffet and my Chinese wheels start turning. Could I do it all over again? I guess I could just have a little bit, because it's nothing like dinner. At lunch you have the option of ordering a lunch plate, complete with 2 to 3 delicacies suited to your tastes. No biggie right? The other option is the "all you can eat" buffet which, of course, has an endless supply of everyone's favorites, with no limit on your servings or their size and if I go for that option I can get more of my favorites.

And so it begins again.
The gluttony of Chinese eating. I am almost ashamed to tell you that I am seriously considering having some right now.

I just have one question for you.

How many of you are going to the local Chinese restaurant for lunch today after reading this?

Happy Birthday America!

I am off today to begin my July 4th celebration/vacation on Cape Cod. It's a family tradition, as we all converge on my mom's home and celebrate the independence of our country together. Besides Christmas, it's the only other time my entire family spends time together. I'm sure there will be lots of burger and dog eating, lobster and chowda eating, and of course, a big favorite of mine, FRIED CLAMS and tartar sauce eating. (you can tell I have reached my forties-I think about a vacation in terms of food)

Golf will be the main order of business for the rest of the week, and all else is planned around that sacred family activity. Beach time will be of the utmost priority also, and because my mom's beach house is on the ocean, we will make the most of the opportunity; including and not limited to twilight bonfires. Which also means SMORES! (there's the food thing again) The ladies will partake in our time honored tradition of flea-marketing. We will skillfully seek out the finest in cheezy beauty products, knock off designer handbags, silver jewelry and other coveted junk. Then, there's the fireworks, with of course, more food. Good times.

The weather had better be good because we have suffered through 22 days of rain in the month of June here in MA and it has sucked royally. I would say we are well over due. I heard that we are experiencing a Seattle-like climate here and that Seattle has had uncharacteristically record high temps and sunny days. (Cora, can you confirm this?) The beach house has no wi-fi so I will returning to the bloggersphere on Monday, July 6, 2009.

My best wishes to you and yours on this holiday and I will leave you with this cute, CLEAN little July 4th joke, wich immediately made me think of the infamous Vodka Mom and a little bit of innocence.

The Fourth of July weekend was approaching, and Miss Pelham, the nursery school teacher, took the opportunity to tell her class about patriotism. 'We live in a great country,' she announced. 'One of the things we should be happy is that, in this country, we are all free.'

Trevor, who was a little boy in her class, came walking up to her from the back of the room. He stood with his hands on his hips and said loudly, 'I'm not free. I'm four.'

Have a great holiday bloggers!

Peace out!