Yeah, that's right. I'm doing a "Not Me" Monday post and it's Tuesday. Ya wanna make somethin' of it?

Yesterday after reading a "Not Me" Monday post over at Good Girl Gone Redneck, I decided to grab the button and write one of these posts myself. And believe me, after the Monday I had yesterday, I could use a little venting. Unfortunately, due to some unforeseen circumstances which I will go into in a moment, I was unable to finish writing said post before Monday was long gone. Anyway, here it is.

Yesterday morning, it wasn't me who hit the snooze button until the very last possible second before I had to roll out of bed and take my son to school in my pajamas and Uggs. I mean, driving around in your pajamas is embarrassing - who would do something like that?

Because I hit the snooze button so many times, it was definitely not I who provided breakfast courtesy of the Starbuck's drive-thru on the way to school. And I did not order a venti quad shot latte with whole milk for myself because that is way too much espresso, and whole milk is full of saturated fat. I adore abhor saturated fat.

It wasn't me that allowed my son to go to school with a few random stray hairs protruding from around his ears after my husband cut his hair at home. Because we believe in nothing but the best for our munchkins and always get our children expensive, professional haircuts. And I would never tell my son "I guess you'll have to figure it out for yourself then" when he threw a temper tantrum because I merely suggested that I quickly trim the aforementioned hairs.

It wasn't me that decided that Throwback Pepsi is an excellent meal replacement plan. Because Throwback Pepsi isn't wholesome or organic or any of that jazz, so I would never drink it to excess.

It wasn't me who discovered that her son has been peeing in the bathroom trash can on purpose. That is disgusting and no child of mine would do something like that.

It wasn't me that almost picked my computer up and threw it through a window yesterday afternoon because it was moving at a snail's pace. Not me, because I am of excellent temperament, and patience is one of strong points.

It wasn't me that waited until I was in excruciating pain and couldn't hear out of one ear due to the pressure of my impacted wisdom teeth to finally make a dentist appointment. Dentists are my friends and they would never do anything that would hurt me. I'm not afraid one bit to be "put under" so that they can rip my impacted wisdom teeth right out of my jaw. In fact, I'm sure they'll use special dental wizardry to perform this procedure, and rainbows and unicorns will abound.

It wasn't me that caught my kids sneaking chicken nuggets (because I absolutely never allow my kids to eat chicken nuggets) into my room where they deposited them directly onto the carpet (as opposed to a plate or a bowl or something) so that they could continue playing while they ate. (Ironically, they were doing a yoga for kids DVD when I discovered the chicken nuggets on the carpet. Can you spell c-o-n-t-r-a-d-i-c-t-i-o-n? That's like when I eat jarred cheese substance with organic corn chips).

It was not me who attempted to embarrass her husband at dinner last night by doing enthusiastic fist pumps to "Round and Round" by Rat and "I Can't Drive Fifty-Five" by Sammy Hagar at the local pizza joint. I would never do something so crude and insensitive because I'm respectful and wifely and shit.

Finally, it was definitely not me who discovered that my car keys were missing right as I was supposed to be leaving to pick my son up from school yesterday afternoon. It was certainly not I that blamed my husband, insisting that it was he who lost the keys. It was also not me who found the keys hours later in the trash can, only after my husband insisted that I look there - not that I would have minded anyway because digging through trash is good times. And I would never secretly suspect that angry spirits threw my keys in the trash (thank you, Paranormal State), because it was definitely not me that absent-mindedly tossed them in the kitchen trash yesterday morning.*

I blame the car keys fiasco for the lateness of this post. It kinda took a long time to find them (mofos. I still believe that angry spirits were involved and that by watching a Paranormal State marathon over the weekend, I opened a portal to the spirit world. I think Ryan and his team of paranormal investigators would concur). Anyway, I hope your Monday was better than mine.

*The hubs happened to be right next door to my son's school just then and was able to save the day by picking him up for me. Show off.

Stop the Insanity!

Remember Susan Powter? The creepy motivational speaker, dietitian and personal trainer who rose to fame in the 90s with her catch phrase “Stop the Insanity!” Maybe you're wondering why the hell I would mention that annoying bitch when you have tried so hard to block her from your collective memories. No I have not decided to single-handedly resurrected Susan Powter from the annals of 90's pop culture. Lately I just haven't been able to get the catch-phrase "Stop the Insanity" out of my head in reference to my current diet and exercise routines (alright, who are we kidding. There is absolutely NO exercise happening here lately. The size of my ass can certainly testify to that).

All good things must come to an end - well that is if you think that ingesting mass quantities of potato chips smothered in that jarred Tostitos Nacho Cheese Dip substance is a good thing. I do. Or did that is, because just the thought of it makes me want to vomit now. Now that probably is a good thing. Man did I get off track in the month of December. I replaced a diet that consisted of mostly vegetables with one that currently consists of virtually NO vegetables (unless we're including potato chips as a vegetable. No? I didn't think so).

Here are some signs that I must Stop the Insanity right this instant:

1. Carl seemed shocked and maybe a wee bit horrified when I told him that I had eaten three jars of that Tostitos processed cheese dip substance over the course of one week. And this is the same person who eats scrapple. Wow. This may be the ultimate wake up call. Oh my God, I just read the jar and it says that 1 serving of this substance is 2 tbsp, and there are 13 servings per jar. A jar lasts me on average two days. So I'm eating around 6 or so servings of cheese substance a day. This is indeed alarming.

2. Just now Carl called me from the store to let me know that the large carton of Haagen-Dazs is unavailable. He seemed to think that this would be an issue for me because he kept repeating that the LARGE carton is unavailable and that they only have the 16 ounce carton in stock are you SURE that this will be okay?! I repeat THE LARGE CARTON IS UNAVAILABLE!!! I'm like, okay dude, I get it. It's fine. I mean, is this the last opportunity that I will have in my lifetime to purchase Haagen-Dazs? Does he actually think that I would want to eat more than 16 oz of vanilla ice cream in one sitting? (Okay you got me there. I actually have done that, but not since I was pregnant). Anyway, my point being that when he called me from the store he seemed kind of panicked and like I might bitch slap him if he didn't come home with the 32 ouncer.* Maybe this is a sign that I need to re-evaluate my relationship with Haagen-Dazs.

3. I noticed a perceptible jiggle to my arse when shopping at the supermarket in sweats yesterday for more cheese substance and potato chips. And Pepsi. One mustn't ever forget the Pepsi. (I was wearing a pair of really nasty Old Navy sweats with Uggs by the way, and I caught a glimpse of myself in the automated doors when entering the grocery store and this is so NOT a good look for me).

4. Carl's muscles feel stiff and sore from starting his new work-out routine. Mine feel stiff and sore from not moving from either the computer or our Lazy Boy recliner where I gorge myself with ice cream, potato chips and cheese substance while watching marathons of Snapped, and the television equivalent to jarred cheese substance, Jersey Shore.

5. My hair and skin feel all greasy because my body is no longer 65% water, it's now 65% jarred cheese substance.

Upon reading this, you will no doubt agree that the time has indeed come to Stop the Insanity. I'll keep you posted about my progress.

*Carl's fears may have been justified: Haagen-Dazs changed their 16 ounce container to 14 ounces? WTF?!

Update: A little while ago when it came up in conversation, Carl asked me if I was still watching Jersey Shore. When I reluctantly confessed that I did watch this week's episode, he said "Oh, honey!" in a way that suggested that he's disappointed in me as a human being. And I can't really say that I blame him.

Recession-Proof Recipes That'll Knock Your Socks Off!

Unless you've been in a coma, you're probably aware by now that our country is currently experiencing a recession. Maybe the term "recession" is an understatement at this point, but it's more optimistic than saying we're in the midst an economic shit storm, or as Bill Maher succinctly put it, "Our booze cruise just hit an iceberg." If, like the rest of us, you're trying to find a means of putting dinner on the table without straining your pocket book, I've come prepared with recipes that I'm delighted to share with you, Dear Reader, from the 1970's era Better Homes and Gardens cookbook that I remember so fondly from my childhood. (I couldn't find the date of publication in the copy that I borrowed from my mother. It's so old that it's missing that page by now). I will feature some of these recipes regularly in a new section of this blog called "Recession-Proof Recipes That'll Knock Your Socks Off!" Since the 1970's were also a time of recession in this country, many of these recipes are geared towards limited household budgets. You can look forward to tasty recipes such as Applesauce Beef Loaf and Frosted Cheese Mold. Today's menu features tender, delectable Ginger Sauced Tongue and a delightful Cucumber Cheese Ring. Happy Recession and Bon Appetite!

GINGER-SAUCED TONGUE:

1 2- to 4-pound smoked beef tongue
1 medium onion, sliced
1 teaspoon whole cloves
1 teaspoon whole peppercorns
4 bay leaves
Gingersnap sauce

Place meat in Dutch oven; cover with water. Add next 4 ingredients. Cover and simmer till tender, allowing 1 hour per pound. Remove meat; strain and reserve 1 cup liquid for sauce. Cut off bones and gristle from large end; slit skin on underside from large end to tip; peel off. Slice meat on a slant. Makes 4 servings per pound.

Serve with hot Gingersnap Sauce: Crush 5 gingersnaps; combine with 1/3 cup brown sugar, 1/3 cup raisins, 1/4 cup vinegar, and reserved liquid. Cook and stir till smooth.

CUCUMBER-CHEESE RING:

Refreshing as a cool summer breeze

1 3-ounce package lime-flavored gelatin
1 cup boiling water
1 3-ounce package cream cheese, softened
1 cup mayonnaise or salad dressing
1 teaspoon prepared horseradish
1/4 teaspoon salt
2 tablespoons lemon juice
3/4 cup drained shredded or ground unpared cucumber
1/4 cup finely sliced green onion

Dissolve gelatin in boiling water. Add cream cheese, mayonnaise, or salad dressing, horseradish, salt, and lemon juice. Beat smooth with an electric or rotary beater. Chill till partially set. Stir in cucumber and sliced green onion. Chill in 3 1/2-cup mold till firm. Makes 5 or 6 servings.

* I feel it worth noting that when I described the recipe for Ginger Sauced Tongue to C, he became physically ill and angerily insisted that I never again discuss cow's tongue as a food item in his presence. This is the same person that eats Scrapple, but whatever.

And Now for Something Truly Disgusting...

Tonight, we had "breakfast for dinner," something we do fairly often since it's relatively easy to prepare and the kids seem to enjoy it. However, for the first time ever, C cooked something truly disgusting called "scrapple," which I had never heard of before.

Apparently, scrapple is the unique creation of the Pennsylvania Dutch. Being from Pennsylvania, I guess C practically wet his pants when he stumbled upon his beloved scrapple at our local grocery store.

According to Culinary Sleuth, "the word, scrapple originates from 'scrap' or 'scrappy' meaning (that it's) made up of odds and ends because that's exactly what it is—boiled, ground leftover pig scraps with cornmeal and spices thrown in."

Perhaps you're wondering exactly what parts of the pig go into the creation of scrapple? I know I was, so I googled it. Again, according to Culinary Sleuth, "after the ham, bacon, chops, and other cuts of meat are taken from the butchered pig, what remains are the fixings for scrapple - including the meat scraped off the head" (sorry, that was just me dry-heaving). Depending on the batch, "scrapple may contain pork skin, pork heart, pork liver, pork tongue - even pork brains."

What's more, scrapple is gray in color.

This image really doesn't do scrapple the justice it deserves - it's far more gray than that.

And as if frying scrapple and eating it at the same table that I have to eat my own dinner at weren't offensive enough, C managed to get scrapple grease all over the stove and my favorite blue pot as well. 

My cute blue bean pot prior to the assault