A week before the party my family is having dinner and my mom asks my brother and I.

“OK where is it?”

“Oh it’s there.  You’ll see it” My brother says.

My mom then studies every inch of the garland, finally she sees the new ornament.

“OH MY GOD!!!  FARRAH LEE!!!  NATHAN JOE!!!”

I chime in “If you take that down we’ll put up something even worse!”

By now my mom knows that both my brother and I will make good on our threat!  My mom is crying with laughter at the sight of the panty liner ornament.  She keeps repeating “OH My God!”.

Finally the day of the party comes and by now a good majority of the guests know about the ornament tradition.  So from the moment they arrive they start searching for the added treasure.  Some of the guests who spot the ornament come over to my mom and quietly whisper “Do you know there’s a panty liner in your décor?” to which my mom replies “Unfortunately yes”.  Other guests shout, “Is that a… a… pad?” and burst out laughing.  Who says menstruation can’t be fun!

Meanwhile my brother and I are laughing our asses off at my mom’s embarrassment.  Aren’t family traditions great!!  So come Thanksgiving my brother and I will be scheming what the 2012 Inappropriate Christmas Ornament should be.  Merry Christmas!

So today was Mopani worm eating day.  Take a look at the picture, these worms are MASSIVE!  Alive they are almost as long as your hand, cooked and dried they are as long as you thumb.  They’ve got little spikes covering their backs which you pick off before you eat them.  They’re native to Africa and are a delicacy to Botswananians.  So when I saw these at Edible.com they went into my shopping cart basket so fast!

So my client and I met for lunch and I brought out the worms.  He can’t believe how gnarly they are.  Reluctantly he picks up a worm and finally pops it in his mouth.  You can see his face turning a slight shade of red as he’s chewing the worm.  After a slurp of ice tea he manages to say they’re disgusting!   But as he chewed further he ends up saying not too bad.

My turn now… I pick up my worm and put it on my tongue.  Ice tea ready I start chewing it.  It’s got a texture of crunch spongy tofu.  The taste isn’t really horrible but it also isn’t pleasant.  It’s hard to describe the taste but a close comparison is a combination of tree bark and dirt.  I think I really expected the taste to be unbearable, but in reality it wasn’t so bad despite my facial expressions.  Now I won’t be snacking on these bad boys any time soon, but it’s just another exotic meal that I can put a check mark next to.

Eye Ball – Check

Giant Leaf Cutter Ant – Check

Meal Worm – Check

Cricket – Check

Mopani Worm – Check!

What’s next?  Not sure… I’m thinking the Giant Horned Beatle or Scorpions! Stay tuned for the next Exotic Eats Challenge!

Now she was attempting to make BBQ pulled beef.  What it ended up looking like was a mushy pot of steaming Alpo dog food.  The meat had no consistency at all.  It literally mushed in your mouth like split pea soup.  In desperation she immediately started cooking a chicken and turned it into BBQ pulled chicken.  Nice recovery, but it didn’t stop the taunts and teases from me, Jeff and my father.

“Boy I hear all the time about the Bacon wrapped scallops with pepper cream sauce that you serve to M and K, and we get served wet dog food.  I see where I stand in the family.”  I lovingly commented to my mom.

She just starts laughing and finally comments “Hey now!”

Jeff chimes in “Boy think you can scoop me out another dollop of Fancy Feast?”  (Fancy Feast is gourmet wet cat food)

My mom shouts back, “NO!!!”

Finally my mom says that to make amends she’s invited us over for a “Gourmet” meal on Sunday along with my brother and his wife.

Jeff immediately comments back “So you’ll be cooking us beans and weanies!”

My mom just about peed her pants.

The BBQ chicken did turn out great.  She even made homemade coleslaw.  It really was an excellent recovery, but we were rolling on the floor laughing will all the dog food, grey meat comments.  Thanks Mom!

Last weekend I shot some pictures of the motocross race at Pala Raceway.  I’ve been shooting motocross pictures for a couple of years now, so I’m used to being peppered with loose dirt and the occasional small clumped mud pucks.  When you’re up close and personal with the riders and their machines, a little dirt throwing is to be expected.

So I’m shooting pictures of Ryan Dungey in a straight away with a small jump that riders launch over.  Ryan’s now on his sixth lap and I’m preparing to take another shot just as he passes me.  Unfortunately as he passed me his rear tire dislodged a one pound rock from the track surface and the momentum of the bike combined the centrifugal force of the tire, hurled the rock right towards my right boob.  The impact of the rock hitting my boob made me take a step back.  Yeah it stung just a weeeeeeeeeee bit.  Luckily the rock missed my camera lens.  Sadly I’d rather a rock hit my boob than take out my precious camera lens.  When the race was over I made my way to one of the race rigs and took a quick peak at the injured boob.  A medium sized welt and a blueish mark where the rock hit.  Not too bad…  However the next morning the bruising had time to set in.  There was a deep black circle mark about two inches wide followed by angry red and purple flares that extended out from the impact mark.  YUMMY!   Its day five now and thankfully what was purple is now a greenish yellow and what was black is now purple-ish red.   So thanks Ryan for the rock hickie.  I should have gotten it autographed.

The second random story just happened yesterday on my way home from work.  The weather in southern California has been wonderful lately.  Hovering in the low 80s during the day and dropping to the 60s at night.  So while on my way home from work I usually open my sunroof to let in the fresh air.  The route from my office to the freeway takes me past an Exxon station.  This Exxon station is the home roost for what must be thousands of pigeons.  If they aren’t on the roof of the station they’re on the power lines just above the station.  I’m stopped at a red light and just as the light turns green the pigeons take off from the roof of the station.  They’re making slow circles over the road in one huge flock.  Life has timed it perfectly that when I accelerate at the green light my car is in the direct poop path of one of the pigeons.  The poop drops right through the sunroof and splats on my elbow and arm which are resting on the armrest.  Thankfully I have hundreds of napkins in my glovebox and quickly clean up the mess.  Gross to say the least but also funny that a perfectly timed release of pigeon poop matched the speed and velocity of my vehicle to hit me perfectly on the elbow.

So when life seems hard, just think it could always be worse.  Life could literally shit on you.

One of the comical habits he has developed is being the front yard sentry for the neighbor’s cat.  We’ve trained Bogie so that he is not to leave the sidewalk.  He can run from one side of the front yard to the other but he cannot step one foot on the street.  As such, the neighbor’s cat has learned that Bogie will not advance across the street to attack.  So now when the cat sees that Bogie is in the front yard, the cat will sit in the middle of the driveway and watch Bogie from across the street.  A stalemate has developed as neither will cross the street to engage the enemy.  This has resulted in Bogie pounding his feet in frustration, loud vocal whines and various mock charges which promptly stops at the edge of the sidewalk.  He will stand in his sentry position for an hour if we let him.  Occasionally the cat will start cleaning itself and Bogie will raise his hackles and the mock charges will begin again.  It’s as if the street is a treacherous moat.  Bogie will look at the cat and then look at the street then look back at the cat.  He’ll pace the sidewalk looking for a way across that doesn’t involved stepping on the actual street.  You can actually see him trying to figure out a way across.  He’s even gone so far as to step on the small patch of weeds growing out of the street a few inches from the sidewalk; because technically he’s not stepping on the actual street.  Even when there is no cat in the neighbors yard, Bogie will stand perfectly still and wait for the cat to come into view.  I’ve taken a picture of the Bogie statue waiting for the cat to emerge.  He does this so often that the neighbors have asked us what he’s looking at.  I just tell them that Bogie is attempting to “will” the cat to cross the street.

Bogie is scary smart; too smart for his own good sometimes.  Just recently he likes to play Jail Break at his Doggie Day Care.  Bogie has learned how to unlock the pens at his day care.  So last week, Bogie decided that not only would he let himself out, but he would let all the other dogs out as well.  He went from pen to pen, unlocking the gates until all the dogs were freed.  The day care had twenty dogs running loose in the facility all due to Bogie.  When I came to pick him up that day, I arrived to some not-so-happy day care people.  Now there are carabineer locks on all the pens in an attempt to thwart Bogie’s escape antics.  It’s just a matter of time before Bogie finds another weakness or loophole.

So until I have children of my own, I’m content with the endlessly entertaining aspects of my neurotic but highly intelligent dog.

One of my favorite things to do is go to a Sunday Brunch at a local restaurant.  I have two that I really enjoy: The Jolly Roger and El Toritos.  The first time I had brunch at El Toritos there was a huge line for something in a big black pot.  I thought to myself if there’s a huge line for this it MUST be good.  The item in the big black pot was in fact menudo.  For those that don’t know, menudo is tripe or the stomach lining of a cow.  I’ve never tried menudo so I get in line and wait my turn.  As I approach the pot, I smell something not so pleasant.  I’m hoping it’s not the menudo.  I grab a bowl and pour a ladleful into my bowl.

I take my bowl of menudo back to the table and Jeff asks me, “You do know what that is right?”

I reply, “Yup”

Jeff rolls his eyes and retorts, “OK”

So I grab my spoon and pick through the soup flipping over a chuck of menudo reveals the white honeycomb like structure.  My stomach protests at the mere sight.  It looks absolutely disgusting!  I hesitantly put the honeycomb chunk into my mouth.  Jeff is staring at me with a questioning look on his face.  My eyes open wide as I’m trying to force myself to chew and not vomit.  I squint my eyes as I quickly chew then swallow.  Jeff is laughing.

Unaware of the volume of my voice I apparently shouted, “OH MY GOD THAT TASTES LIKE ASS!”

Jeff lovingly replies “Why don’t you speak up, I don’t think everyone heard you”

The people around our table give me nasty looks as I’m scraping my tongue with my napkin.

That foul not so pleasant smell was the menudo!   The taste just keeps lingering on my tongue and all I envision is sweaty ass.  Granted I’ve never actually tasted sweaty ass, but I’m pretty sure that menudo is akin to sweaty ass.  How can anyone eat this?!  I look around the restaurant and there are bowls aplenty, full of menudo.  The line for the menudo pot has at least fifteen people in queue.  I just don’t understand.  Am I missing something?

Maybe it wasn’t that bad… Maybe my mind just made me think it tastes bad… To my own astonishment I take another spoonful just to make sure.  Jeff just shakes his head in dismay.

Yup… Tastes like Sweaty Ass!

In the past I’ve selected a horrific bright green plaid pant suit which looked as if she was wearing a freshly mowed lawn outfit.  I’ve found MuuMuu dresses made for excessively obese women.  Then there was the Burlap Bag dress made out of actual burlap material. Our most recent shopping excursion was the best, because I actually got photographic proof of the horrific outfit!

While at Burlington Coat Factory which is sometimes famous for its selection of hideous clothing, my mom selected some outfits to try.  As soon as she placed those outfits in her shopping cart, I began my search.  I’m sure she thought I was searching for clothing for me to try, but I had one single purpose at that moment.  I MUST FIND THE OUTFIT!  AT LAST I found a dress in her size that looked as if it had been made with scraps of leftover fabric.  Absolutely nothing matched on the dress.  So when my mom went into her dressing room I handed her the outfits she selected along with “The Dress”.

When she saw the outfit she gasped, “Oh God, you couldn’t find one that actually looks nice?”

“Of course not!” I retort

Part of the tradition is that I have to see her in the horrific outfit I choose regardless if the outfit is too large or too small.  So she finally tries on “The Dress” and as she opens the door I happen to snap a picture.  Sorry for the blur, but she was in the process of slamming the dressing room door shut!  She’s going to kill me for posting this, but I just couldn’t stop laughing and had to share.

The next time we go shopping she says she’s going to do the same thing to me.  All I can say is: Bring it On!

Then there’s the sign I made for a copier that we spent a small fortune on yet it still can’t manage to make four copies without jamming twice.

The sign I made for people who kept stacking their dirty dishes in the sink without ever washing them themselves.

So today I walk into our office kitchen to grab a paper towel and low and behold there is a lonely empty roll.  Someone has callously taken the last paper towel without replacing it with a new roll.  It wouldn’t have bothered me if this was the first time I’ve experienced this problem.  But in reality, this has become a routine problem.  It just gets under my skin and irritates me.  How hard can it possibly be to replace a paper towel roll?  Perhaps the culprit doesn’t know where we store the paper towels.  In that case I made a sign, more like a map directing them where to get new paper towel rolls.

This kind of inconsiderate action really gets my panties in a twist… It’s almost as bad a leaving one little square of toilet paper on a roll instead of replacing it with a new roll.   That really chaps my hide.  I think if that ever happens to me more than twice I’m going to make a sign that reads “What would MacGyver do?” and stick it to the empty toilet paper roll while removing all the replacement rolls from the bathroom.

Lesson learned?  Probably not…

Several months ago when Jeff asks me, “What are you going to dream about tonight?” I reply…  Hmmmm I going to dream that I’m a dragon…  Well my prediction was not exactly spot-on but was in close proximity.  I dreamt that I was a velociraptor.  Throughout my entire dream I was living the life of a dinosaur in first person.  In my dream I was hunting in the jungle and I ended up trying to kill and eat this other dinosaur.  But my prey was putting up a fight and I had to kick and jump and claw hard to kill it.  Well while I was dreaming of being a velociraptor, I’m kicking, punching, and clawing Jeff who is attempting to sleep beside me.  He tries to wake me up but I encorporate his jarring movements with my prey which makes me fight harder.  When I get up the next morning, my muscles are so sore from my sleep activity that I can barely get out of bed.  I’m exhausted and Jeff is black and blue.

Flying dreams are my favorite.  I remember this one dream where I was running in the woods. I ran along this trail that had a log crossing the trailhead.  I attempted to jump over the log, but instead of landing on the ground opposite the log, I just kept going up in the air.  The surrounding got smaller and smaller and I just kept climbing.  Eventually I leveled off and soared through the air with my arms spread.  I learned that to climb higher I had to flap my arms which I was doing in my sleep.  The next morning, my arms were so tired and sore.  But the dream was great!

Last night’s dream was a particularly interesting.  Thankfully Jeff was at work; otherwise he’d have received a good beating.  I dreamt that I was a crime fighter.  Not necessarily a police officer but just short of being a super hero.  I was leaping from building to building across the city looking for trouble makers.  I spotted some hoodlums tying to steal some shoes off a wimpy kid.  I then leapt off the building and landed on the ground five stories down surprising the criminals.  It was then that the criminal beat-down took place.  I was punching and roundhouse kicking, jumping and crane kicking their asses!  Once the hoodlums were beat to a bloody pulp and I continued on my rounds looking for more opportunities to administer my corporal punishment.  By the time I woke up I was utterly exhausted.  My muscles are sore and I feel like I haven’t even slept in two days.

My dreams are a blessing and a curse.  I like experiencing the dreams themselves; I just don’t like how my body thinks my actions in my dreams are real.  I guess I don’t need to go to the gym today as I’ve gotten weeks worth of exercise just from sleeping. Kind of dreading what I’ll dream about tonight… I’m hoping its a dream about sleep itself.

Now you must understand that I’m a Sicilian and I’ve got the temper to match especially when I’ve been deprived of food for several hours.  My family calls it the “Grumps”.  I knew that this graduation was going to deprive me of my precious food so I snacked on some chips and salsa before we left for the event hoping that this small nourishment would fend off the Grumps at least for a little while.  Jeff insisted that the graduation wouldn’t take more than an hour.  I can manage an hour…

So we arrive and find our seats.  Jeff knows quite a few people at this event so while he’s busy talking and mingling; I’m left to people watch.  I can already tell that the small amount of chips and salsa has already been depleted and I’m just about running on food fumes.  I frantically search my purse for any food, candy, gum, crumbs anything! Nothing!   My hunger meanness makes its first appearance.  As Jeff sits down next to me, I nudge him to check out the girl in front of us.  Her hair is pulled up and teased in such a way that it looks like a rat built a nest up in it.  I ask Jeff if he sees the rat in her hair or if it was just my imagination.  I’m sure she’s thinking that she’s looking HOT in her rat nest teased hair, but I can barely contain myself.  I tell Jeff that if I EVER do my hair like that to instantly falcon punch me!

The Grumps have fully arrived and it’s completely evident by my meanness and my complete lack of patience.  As more and more people start finding their seats I realize just how many babies and toddlers are at this event.  One of my most unfavorite sounds on this earth is crying/screaming/whining children. I make a comment to Jeff… “I Didn’t know the preschool class was in full attendance!”  Jeff just rolls his eyes and tells me to calm down.  But sure enough as soon as the speaker hits the stage to commence the ceremony, the babies and toddlers start crying.  I take a long exasperated sigh, which Jeff acknowledges by squeezing my leg in irritation.  The entire ceremony is interrupted by the constant entering and exiting of mothers and fathers with their unruly crying children.

An hour goes by and I’m beyond starving.  My stomach announces its demand for food by growling and groaning loudly.  Again I search my purse for food, and once again coming up empty handed.  To make matters worse, the certificate presenter is telling a story about every single graduate!  I fumble with the event program to see how many graduates there are… 20… Again I give a long and loud exasperated sigh.  In my nonsensical food deprived world that I’m currently living in, I envision the possibility that I may never escape this room. That I may never eat food again as this presenter’s speech just doesn’t seem to have an end.  The light I saw at the end of the tunnel as we entered the halfway mark of the program suddenly grows dim.  He just keeps talking and talking and I’m not eating!

Finally after an hour and a half the bag pipers file out and the graduation ceremony is over!  All I can think about is escaping as quickly as possible to my car where I have emergency rations stashed.  Unfortunately Jeff wants to say his goodbyes to everyone he knows at the event.  I really am trying to be a pleasant person, but when someone is preventing me from food, I can be just a wee bit of a bitch.  Jeff says his last goodbye and I stagger out the door as if I just escaped a long desert trek without food or water.  I’m so hungry that I’m considering the positive aspects of scavenging roadkill.  I’m so hungry I could eat the ass out of a dead rhinoceros.  I’m so hungry I could eat a bowl of lard with hair in it.  I’m so hungry I could eat the north end of a southbound skunk.  As long as it’s even remotely eatable I’m in!

As we get to the car I break out my emergency rations and shove the food into my mouth like I’ve been deprived of food for a week.  Jeff comments… “Jesus Christ it’s only been two hours since you last ate!”

I’m confident there’s some evolutionary advantage to my aggressive tendencies when I’m hungry.  Perhaps an irritated and hungry woman was a more efficient hunter/gatherer.  Perhaps my constant snacking throughout the day has trained my body to demand more frequent intakes of food.  Whatever the case may be, NEVER stand between a hungry Farrah and her food.