From two brothers and a cousin, here are heart-warming entries about living out of our grandparents' basement. We've finally decided to start sharing stories made hilarious by generation differences and expired food. And, throughout most of these entries, there will be a constant theme. That theme is that Fox News was on.
Tuesday, December 7, 2010
No More Parachutes.
Fox News tells me who to be afraid of. Today I learned, from Glenn Beck, that Cass Sunstein is now "THE MOST DANGEROUS MAN IN AMERICA"... I guess George Soros has dropped to "Person of Interest". Either way, I was listening to it while arriving for dinner, per the usual routine.
Eating dinner here is as serious as flying a plane. You've got your pre-flight check where you do your walk-around. Look at all the dishes you have to choose from, make sure to spot the questionables(food that has no origin based on first evaluation) and the variables(foods that are hard to mess up, unless they've been in the freezer too long), and scoop them up according to their questionable and variable rating.
Then you have the flight itself where, well, if you're flying with no red warning lights on, then you've passed. If for some reason, something doesn't feel right, you need an escape plan. This could be anything from a grass field to a parachute. In regards to the meal, the "flight" is the ingesting phase.
After the flight, you land and unload the plane. I feel this speaks clearly for both sides.
PRE-FLIGHT CHECK:
I arrive in the kitchen and as I'm walking be to get a glass of water, I do a careful dinner check. Immediately I sense problems. I spot my grandpa cutting up this bulbous oval looking piece of boneless meat. No need to panic though because I still had peas and baked potato on my side. So dishing up my plate consisted of one small slice of mystery meat, one baked potato, and 11 scoops of peas.
IN-FLIGHT CHECK:
I try to cut off a bite-size piece, but after a failed attempt, I raise my fork only to watch the rubbery meat re-form back into its original shape. Already, at this point, my head is filled with so much crazy I don't even hear that the TV is still on. I grab my knife and succeed in cutting it in two. During this ingestion phase, I become extremely overwhelmed by flavor. Whatever this is, it's really pretty tasty. But, back to crazy-
"I can't tell if I like the flavor of this meat" says my grandma. My grandpa slowly looks up and replies.
"I think it's really good. It's got a lot of flavor."
"Well, alright. It just said teriyaki."
After I hear this, I'm cross-referencing her description to the flavor I just had. Here come the red warning lights.
One, it was good, but it didn't taste like teriyaki. Two, teriyaki is a sauce, so THAT DOESN'T TELL ME WHAT TYPE OF MEAT I JUST ATE.
PRE-LANDING:
I ate all the food off my plate with haste and cleaned off the table. Now I'm trying to decide how I feel. I'm hoping I feel good because the meat was okay and not because I ate so little of it. If it's the latter, I'm screwed when it comes to the leftovers.
I'll probably find that out the next time Fox News is on.
Thursday, December 2, 2010
HEY! Season's Greetings!
This story is rather short, but it was really funny in the moment. My grandpa had climbed up the ladder into the attic to throw some bags of garland and lights down. As he had thrown the last of it down to me, I noticed my grandma had appeared in the doorway, just watching us. I could see she was searching for things to criticize my grandpa about. He made his way down the ladder, closed it up into the ceiling, and started to carry some bags out to the porch.
My grandma knows she is blocking the doorway, so she starts to back up... at .05 mph mind you. My grandpa walks up to her until he is nearly touching her and slows to her pace. I was on the other side of the room watching them move slowly for a super awkward 10 seconds or so when my grandpa finally says,
"You're in my way."
Just as there was enough room to pass, he did so as my grandma replied, "I'M SOrry!"
I then quietly passed my grandma with the rest of the bags full of decorations. It was one of the funniest moments of my day and Fox News wasn't even on.
Friday, November 26, 2010
M&M's.....from 1992
Wednesday, November 24, 2010
Loaded guns... Part I and II
Monday, November 22, 2010
The Table.
But, this is about a table. Yes, you read correctly. A table for dining to be precise. I had just helped my grandpa bring down an old table from the attic to give to my cousin for her new apartment.
Just for the record, I do like this table.
My grandpa was then cleaning it, dusting it, and sanding the rough spots just as Bill's program started.
"Did we have any tables before this one when we lived in Cedar Falls?" my grandpa, foolishly, asked my grandma.
My grandma, bent on bickering, answered, "Yes. We had that one table you used at the blueprint business. It's downstairs."
"What? No, I gave that table to Marsha when she moved." My grandpa was not going down without a fight. But my grandma was quick with a response.
"No, the one you used for the blueprint business! I do flower arranging on it all the time. I know what table it is!"
"The table you use, is part of the ping pong tables. If you put the two together, it is the ping pong table."
Now, I don't know if my grandma is right, but I know that my grandpa is wrong because those ping pong tables are at my parents' house. However, I did look at the table my grandma was talking about, and it's nothing but a glorified card table (GREAT FOR PUZZLES). So, she is probably wrong. But if they both think the other party is wrong, then the night can continue in perfect false-harmony. My grandma finally closed the argument.
"Well, I use that table everyday, I know what it is."
By this time, the dust had settled and Bill O'Reilly was back.
Fox News was on.
Wednesday, November 17, 2010
Dancing with the Multiracial Stars
Coons, guns, underwear...
Maytag Freezers: Freezing Food. Freezing Time.
Saturday, November 13, 2010
Don't go, I have something important to say?
Tuesday, November 9, 2010
Grandpa, here is Batman's cell number...
Monday, November 8, 2010
Sunday, November 7, 2010
World War Three
Where are the Bears?
Friday, November 5, 2010
Biscuits
Thursday, November 4, 2010
Strawberries...the Sparkling Variety
Fox News was on. It was the evening after mid-term elections. The meal was a very strange assortment of foods…dinner isn’t usually this random. Soggy sweet potato fries, peas, and gravy covered meatballs sat on my plate. The plate I had chosen was of average size, but there was still a lot of dead space around the food. Each miniature pile of food had its own corner of the plate. As with most meals, it didn’t taste horrible. I can however count on it not keeping me full until 8pm. I digress; the real gem of this story is another argument over nothing. The dessert we had was a crumbly biscuit with strawberries spooned on top with a milky crème poured over the whole thing. This has a name, but it’s not important. The important name is that of the strawberries.
“These are called sparkling strawberries, they’re very good,” my grandma said as she pointed out the dessert items. Meanwhile, I’m thinking to myself that these strawberries look suspiciously close to frozen strawberries, which is exactly what they were. But with a word like “sparkling” in front of the item name, they must be the best. I assembled my dessert and ate it. It was tasty and very cold. It was cold simply because some of the strawberries weren’t thawed all the way through yet. Not surprised. My grandpa was not so reserved as I was.
“These strawberries don’t taste very good.” He said this after I watched him drink the strawberry juice water out of the serving bowl with a spoon.
My grandma counteracted him with a “well they’re sparkling strawberries from Hy-Vee.”
Now, back in my head, I’m trying to picture my grandma standing in the frozen food isle fondling each bag of “sparkling strawberries” in an effort to pick out the best one.
After taking another bite of this dessert, my grandpa responds with “I’m just saying they’re not as good as fresh strawberries.”
“Well what do you expect for this time of year?” said my grandma. Silence followed this critical debate over the strawberries. My ears then rediscovered the TV, because Fox News was on.