Didn't know what hit 'em.

“Incredible Pizza”

    Until things cool down, our family get-togethers will be held at eating establishments somewhere in neutral territory. We’ve got family in Pasadena, La Porte, The Woodlands, Willis and Conroe.

Of course, our sister Sue lives in Washington State, so we’ve been excluding her from our gatherings. I’m not apologizing for that, either. If you choose to move a couple thousand miles away from family, you’re gonna get left out.

Last month’s gathering was held at Incredible Pizza in Conroe. Jill picked the place. She lives in a La Porte, and apparently likes to be on the road. I was good with the idea, ‘cause it’s only a 15 minute drive for me, and ‘cause it’s buffet. I don’t understand buffet. Do they realize you can eat all you want? Just makes no sense to me.

The only drawback to the Incredible Pizza had to do with the timing. Timing is so important in life. Whether you’re telling a joke, cooking a roast or approaching an amber light, timing is crucial.

Unfortunately, Jill timed our confab for Saturday evening. I don’t care if it’s Incredible Pizza, Chuck E Cheese or a trip to Wal-Mart, Saturday evening is not a good time for grownups… unless you want to rumble.

Though Kay and I were not the first to arrive at I P, it was obvious that I was going to have to be the one to take charge. You have no idea the hurt that comes from being the one to take charge. But, who’s gonna do it? “You, Kaffee? The truth is, you want me on that wall. You need me on that wall!” – Whoa. What was that?

Anyway, Hayters were filling plates and then wandering all over the place. -- Where do we sit? Where are the bigger plates? Why would I want a salad? – People were getting testy. Dennis got into a fight with two nine-year-olds. He could’ve probably handled one. I kept telling him they’d bring more pizza.

I finally told Kay to gather up the mavericks, while I found a place for us to camp.
I went to a boss-looking person and asked if we could take over one of the special birthday rooms. “No, they’re all taken,” she lied. Hey, I don’t blame her. I’m pretty sure the manager at the Chinese buffet in Deer Park called her. She acted like she had heard of the Hayters.

I ended up leading everyone to the giant theatre room. They were airing a weird Japanese animated feature. Wait a minute. That’s redundant. We decided against watching the feature. None of the other losers in the room cared to watch, either. We just ate. It was way dark in that theatre, which made it so easy to steal off one another’s plates.

The biggest thief was Levi. That’s my nephew Clint’s youngest. From his high chair he had a grab range radius of 4 feet. By the way, Clint and Joanna named their kids Jasmine, Cash, Violet and Levi. I think Clint was looking to make a TV series called “Bonanza: The Next Generation”

After realizing the food would never run out, most of us slowed our eating pace. Once finished, we ran to the game area, a massive place with bumper cars, an iceless iceskating rink, putt putt golf and 179 other games. The brothers and Clint played Putt Putt. I lost bad. The game looks so much easier than it is.

The kids played with… well, everything. It didn’t cost all that much for the youngest to play. Seems the boat, car, spaceship games show the vehicles racing on the screens even when you don’t put tokens in. The kids would sit there and turn the steering wheel back and forth thinking they were actually directing the thing. I even caught myself doing it. Kids are dopes.

Probably won’t surprise you to know that we were among the last to leave. Yeah, we pretty well closed down Incredible Pizza. We even got cheers from the staff as we left. Some of those people are good actors.

I have no idea where we’re meeting this month. If I get to pick, it’ll be 10:45 at Luby’s. Those people won’t know what hit ‘em. 

END

   
For the latest Whine and Dine review click on pic.

Made a pancake lover outta me.

“They're the best, Jerry”

     I’ve made no secret of the fact that I’m half of the restaurant review team of Brad and Mark. Professional critique Brad Meyer is the brains and I… well, I just go along for the free food. Our video segment is called “Whine and Dine.” One of us thought that cute.

    From some of the comments received about our segments, it’s apparent that at least one county resident considers me somewhat of a doofus. Brad can be so mean.

    Well, this “doofus” is getting ready to do something that’s only been done once in the history of mankind. I believe it was in Wisconsin back in ’47. I’m going to review a pancake. So, grab a cup of joe and listen up. Read up.

Last Tuesday, I wanted breakfast for supper, so I gathered Kay up and we went to IHOP. I think I missed her left shoe.

IHOP is big on pancakes. Why else would they put ‘em in their name. Take the pancakes out of IHOP and they’re IHO. Say that twice and you’ve got the first two words in a song by seven little people. Work with me here, would ya?

    Truth is I didn’t want pancakes ‘cause they weigh on me. “Sluggish” thy name is Tall Stack. That’s in the Old Testament somewhere. Fairly sure.

However, after the waitress went to get my coffee (a whole pot) I noticed a picture in the menu insert. The mini-men’. The picture was that of a plate of pancakes covered with a thick cinnamon goo. Atop this layer of brown ambrosia was a squiggly pattern of thin white icing. And on top of that was a splot of whipped cream. Splot? Somebody look that up.

I was about to jump up and run for the waitress, but Kay gave me her don’t-embarrass-me look. It’ll paralyze. I think she was still mad about her shoe. She told me to wait for the waitress. After all, that’s how they got their name.

The waitress promptly returned with my coffee and poured the first cup. After that you get to pour your own. And, get this, if you empty the carafe, they bring you another. I’m not making this stuff up.

But, forget the coffee. I told the waitress I wanted the breakfast with the cinnamon pancakes. She seemed pleased with my selection. I like it when the waitress commends me for my order. So, I ended up with two eggs (over medium), two sausages, hashbrowns and two pancakes. I had to place a separate order for toast, ‘cause I wasn’t about to trade my pancakes for toast. They shouldn’t even make it an option.

Kay ordered… something else. Who remembers? I wolfed down most of my eggs and stuff, and then sank my fork into the pancake concoction. I instantly noticed that a glob of cinnamon also covered the bottom pancake. It was genius! And, it was one of the few times where the picture of the food looked just like the actual food. Nobody has figured out how to do that with hamburgers, but IHOP managed it with their cinnamon pancakes.

Unfortunately, I got too full too fast. I decided it a good time to let Kay have a taste. She took a bite… then another. She thought for a second and said, “You know, this tastes like the best part of a real gooey cinnamon roll, the middle. Only with a cakey texture.” Kay makes up words sometimes.

But she was right. The waitress even gave us the senior discount, and we didn’t even ask. She might’ve just felt sorry for Kay. Anyway, we got one meal for free.

What a great eating experience. Some days you just step into something good. Had Brad been with me instead of Kay I would’ve stepped into something less good. Brad is so mean. I suggested we call our program “Mark and Big Stinker.” One of us thought that cute.  

END

You can view Mark and B Stinker’s latest review on YouTube click on picture.

An eye for fashion?

And I woulda been in style, too.

    I hadn’t been to the mall since before Christmas. I only went last week because Kay wanted to look for a “special kind” of denim shorts. I didn’t know what she meant at the time, nor do I now, even after she bought the shorts. I couldn’t tell you the specialness of ‘em if you stuck a gun to my head.

    By the way, I went to the mall with Kay because I didn’t answer the “What else have you got to do?” question seriously. “Drive a roofing nail in my foot” was not an acceptable answer.

    There was no way I was going to be of help to Kay in her lengthy short search, so when we got to the mall I just sat down on one of those torturous benches and watched people walk by. I hate to see people who sit and watch people walk by, so I managed to look like I wasn’t looking. I have a knack. It’s really more of a gift.

    One thing I picked up on was a current fashion trend for young ladies. It may have been going on for a couple of years, but I just picked up on it. What they’re doing is wearing these really short denim shorts. Not like Kay bought. Shorter than that. Way shorter. So short that in some cases, the inside of the pockets extend beyond the hem. It looks tacky as all get out. Bound to be why it’s so popular.

    I also saw one girl wearing a pair of jeans that had gaping rips from the top of the thigh down to her knees. The inside of her pockets were also visible. I’ve seen torn jeans before, but none quite as revealing. Again, no one could tell that I was even looking.

    Speaking of socks, I saw this junior high aged kid walk by wearing black socks with tennis shoes. Black socks. I don’t know if you’re aware, but guys can now wear black socks with shorts and athletic shoes. First time I saw anyone under the age of 50 wearing black socks was when I picked up Virginia’s grandson after spring training football practice.

    Ryan was wearing black socks with his Nikes. I asked him how long that had been going on and he said, “I don’t know. Probably over a year.” I had no idea. No one keeps me up to date on stuff like that. I’ve had a pair of black athletic socks for a couple of years now. One of the brothers got ‘em for me for Christmas. I thought it was a joke. I could’ve been wearing ‘em all along and no one would’ve laughed. No, they would still laugh.

    Back at the mall I saw a three-year-old with both his shirt and shorts inside out. His parents acted like they didn’t even notice. I don’t know if the kid dressed himself wrong or the parents were embracing the new “inside out” trend for kids. If you scratch this thing, you’ll probably find Justin Bieber behind it. 

I did see a lady wearing a shirt that I really liked. I was sitting over by the giant talking tree area. I’m not sure the tree talks anymore, ‘cause they took its face off. Hard to talk without a face. I don’t know why I felt I had to tell you that, but it seemed important.

Anyway, the young mother was wearing a tight green Tee shirt that had big eyeballs on the front. The protruding eyes made it appear that immediately below her neck was a giant frog face. I thought it cute as it could be.

Kay didn’t think the look all that cute. I pointed the lady out when Kay walked up with her short’s purchase. She wanted to know why I felt I had to stare at women at the talking tree. I told her I didn’t think the tree talked anymore. She gave me ol’ eye roll.

Just irks me no end. I get in trouble when all along I didn’t even want to be there. Why is it you can never find a roofing nail when you need one?

END

To view Mark and Brad’s latest restaurant review click on pic.

Just about missed Nat'l Ice Cream Month!

“Ice Cream”

    Did you know that July is National Ice Cream Month? I just found out about it last week. Had I known sooner I could’ve done more to honor the frozen treat named after a man with a musical truck.

    At this late date, I figured the least I could do is research something about ice cream. I hate research. It takes too much time. My Blue Bell Blackberry Cobbler will melt by the time I finish this. It’ll still be good, but sheesh. So, let’s make this fast.

    By the way, I pulled all my ice cream facts from the Internet. I tell you that, to tell you this: There’s a good chance none of ‘em would hold up in court.

The first “fact” is that America and New Zealand take turns leading the world in per capita consumption of ice cream. I can understand the U.S. But, New Zealand? Fourteen universities have received grants to study that phenomenon. None have come up with a good answer.

 Each American was supposed to have eaten 12 gallons of ice cream last year. I didn’t come close.  Don’t get me wrong, I really like ice cream, but it makes me sweat. Something makes me sweat. Lone Star College is trying to get a grant to study me.

Kay doesn’t eat enough ice cream, either. Together we may eat ten gallons. I usually eat my five in early June. That means that someone out there is eating what Kay and I don’t. That person is consuming 26 gallons a year. Should be easy to find.

The State that produces the most ice cream is California. Their favorite flavor is Avocado. I didn’t look that up, because it seemed obvious. Texas is the second largest producer. If you take Blue Bell out of the equation we rank 42nd, just behind Delaware. Again, I didn’t have to look that one up.

The first ice cream cone was invented at the 1904 World’s Fair in St. Louis. Another source came up with the 1896 World’s Fair in Berlin, but that can’t be because Judy Garland never sang “Meet me in Berlin, Louie.” 

The day of the week that most ice cream is sold is Sunday. Speaking of Sunday, the first ice cream sundae was made in Two Rivers, Wisconsin in 1871. At least that’s what the town claims.

Two Rivers didn’t know the name of what it invented until 1890, when the city fathers of Evanston, Illinois, banned the sale of ice cream sodas on Sunday. It was a loose translation of Deuteronomy 24:20.

To get around the blue law, a confectioner put some ice cream in a dish, threw in some syrup and left out the soda. Instead of calling it a “Soda-less Soda,” he called it a “Sundae Soda.” I assume he misspelled “Sunday” for religious reasons.

People’s favorite ice cream flavors, in order of most ordered: Vanilla, chocolate, strawberry, banana, coconut, butter pecan, mint chocolate chip, coffee, honey and green tea. I read that, but I don’t believe it. Might be true in New Zealand but not here.

By the by, Ronald Reagan is the one who instituted National Ice Cream month back in 1984. I doubt it was his idea, ‘cause he was into jellybeans. Oh, and ice cream was invented by the Chinese. Big surprise. They also invented ice, fire and sponge darts.

That’s all entirely too interesting. Before I leave you with your ice cream flavor thoughts, let me say that ice cream has been known to stop migraines. Not mine, but maybe yours. Mine hate the cold, but some people’s migraines love it. Give it a try.

So, let’s all show our pride and grab some Blue Bell Blackberry Cobbler. Anything but green tea. – Green tea? Hey, I researched it.

END


To find Brad and Mark’s latest restaurant review click on pic.

   

Hey, there's less to us than you think.

“Disappearing monster”

    I no longer believe in Spiderman, but I do believe in spidey sense. When I see in the comics that Peter Parker’s “spidey sense” is tingling, I realize that it’s a true phenomenon.

    I know ‘cause I witnessed spider sense just before you showed up. I was staring out the window here in the study, waiting to see if rain was going to come from the overcast sky. While focusing on the sky, I noticed a giant spider walk into view and just stand there. A big spider… about the size of a cat’s paw. 

    The creature was on the screen outside the window, apparently looking for something to do. The thing started walking back and forth for about 10 minutes. Then it stayed in place and started alternately raising its legs off the screen like it was pretend-playing a round piano.

At that point, I noticed that the monster arachnid was actually inside the window screen. I noticed it ‘cause its legs began bumping against the glass. I didn’t mind the spider so much when I thought it was outside. Figured it might catch a bat or something at night. But, realizing it was practically inside my house, changed my whole attitude. I didn’t scream out loud, but inside my head I let out a real sissy-scream. That’s when I ran downstairs for some roach spray.

I’m not sure spiders fear roach spray, but it’s all I had. Turns out I didn’t even have it. I could only find a can of ant spray I bought when LBJ was President. Ants name for “ant spray” is “candy.” I don’t know what spiders call it, but I was going to find out. 

So, I grabbed the spray and ran back to the study. When I arrived, the spider was gone. Hiding somewhere in the window’s periphery. Deep in one of those periphery things. To find out where it was, I’d hafta open the window. Did I mention the thing was big? Big as a Frisbee.

I have no doubt that the demon arachnid heard my mental girl-scream and realized that I was coming back with some kick-posterior bug spray. There is no other explanation. None that goes along with what I’m trying to say here… which is that spiders are very astute. Just like horses. – Stay with me here.

Last week Kay and I went to the Market Street theatre in The Woodlands to see “Buck,” the documentary about Buck Brannaman, the man that Robert Redford’s “Horse Whisperer” movie was loosely based on. I don’t like to see a movie about real life. I go to the movies to get away from real life…. and eat popcorn. I only went this time ‘cause Kay asked me. I suppose if she asked me to jump off a cliff I’d do it… but only if there was popcorn at the bottom. 

As it turned out, the movie was the best I’ve seen in a good while. The popcorn was great, too.

The reason the movie reminded me of “spidey sense” has to do with something Brannanman said about horses. He said that horses sense when you’re scared, angry, happy or just out of sorts. And, they react accordingly. Not sure exactly what that means for a horse, but for me, I just shut down around somebody who is outta sorts.

Watching “Buck” I learned a lot about horses and people. Buck said that if you ever have trouble with your horse, it’s generally your fault. The person riding the horse is the one with the problem. Buck trains people more than he trains horses. I think Caesar Milan, the Dog Whisperer, does pretty much the same thing.

Bottom line, horses are somewhat like spiders. They can sense stuff about you that no one else can. Leading one to believe that animals and bugs are keener than humans. How else can you explain that after 40 years of marriage, Kay has yet to react to one of my mental sissy-screams. Yet, after only a few minutes of being in my proximity, a gigantic spider not only heard my silent scream, but knew what was coming next.

Spidey sense. I could use me some of that.

END

To view Brad and Mark’s review of Beck’s Prime click on pic.

Night time on the roof

“On a hot metal roof”

    ROOFTOP – Did any of you collide with a junebug on your way up? Two of those critters got me. Both of ‘em hit my face. I haven’t even noticed a junebug all year, and while I’m walking the ladder around to the launch point, two of those bubbas hit me. What’s that all about?

    They must love the dry and the heat. I came up here tonight figuring it would be almost bearable. Daytime roofsits have been called off till late autumn. At least at my house. You do what you want.

    Here it is 10 in the P.M. and it’s 87 degrees. The air has a feel of a drive-in theatre outing. Strange attraction the drive-in. It was always a blast going, but such a dismal time getting home and piling out of the car. I hated it when I got too old for Dad to carry me inside. I don’t remember a Li’l Al ever entering the house conscious after a drive-in outing. – “Hey, Daddy, after you get Alan in, how ‘bout coming back for me?” Never happened.

    Listen to those neeker breekers. Those things simply cannot harmonize. Each one seems oblivious to the other. Sounds like a neighborhood awash in creaking door sounds. There may be a frog among ‘em. If so, it’s bound to be sitting in one of Kay’s flowerpots. Nothing else is wet enough to coax a croak out of a frog.

    You know what would go good about now? No, that’s too obvious. I was thinking of a smoothie. The last time Jill was here she brought along some smoothie makings. Included pomegranate juice, frozen bananas, berries and whey. I don’t understand whey. I don’t even think Miss Muffet knew what she was eating.

    The smoothies Jill made were really good. If you switch the pomegranate juice for a citrus or grape concoction, you’d really have something. After Jill’s visit, Kay and I just had to get us some smoothie makings. A small jar of whey cost ten bucks, by the whey. In a year or two, we may use it for driveway filler. Smoothie making is to much trouble.

You’ve really got to be serious about a project if the outcome involves washing a blender. Too many parts, and the ugliest blade in the world. I’d just as soon clean a shark’s teeth as mess with a set of blender blades.

Fortunately, Kay found a use for the smoothie berries. She boils the things and adds ‘em to her hummingbird sugar and water mixture. Brian’s grandson taught her that. The six-year-old came to help his grandpa with a remodeling job. Most of the time he sat and talked to Kay about birds and stuff. Smart kid.

Kay added the berry mixture to one of her two feeders. The berry mixture was gone before the other even took more than a hit or two. Ryan’s a bright kid. I think he learned a lot from listening to his grandma. What I think.

Before we all leave, which we’re gonna hafta do in a couple of minutes, I want us to congregate at ground-level so I can give you each a tomato. We got a few from the Plilers and Catherine. I wouldn’t be so generous with my tomatoes, but they all turned ripe at once. Two days ago. Now they’re walking a tight line between ripe and rot.

Kay and I have been trying to eat a few tomatoes with each meal. To tell the truth I’m about ‘matered out. A week from now I’ll be begging for tomatoes, but they’ll all be gone. I’ll be back to paying big bucks for ‘em. Tomatoes are way tricky. That’s why they call ‘em tomatoes.

Okay, no pushing, slipping or jumping. And, no playing with the satellite dish. I’m talking to you, Lanny! Everybody just just climb down and lineup for your tomato. And, yes, you have to take one. – Next time.

END

To view Brad and Mark’s review of Pallotta's Mexican Grill click on pic.

We used the Hope it Pops brand

“Popcorn Fever”

    Have you ever had new car fever? Scary isn’t it? You start noticing every little thing wrong with your current vehicle. Too few cupholders, worn mats and cluttered glove compartment or pullout. Whichever.  And, naturally, you begin focusing big time on the new models.

If you establish a preference for one particular model, you’re either gonna take out a loan or feel sorry for yourself for the rest of your miserable life.

Car fever is especially a nightmare if your spouse has it and you don’t. I’ve got to believe the devil smiles when that happens.

Unfortunately, that’s what’s happening right now in the Hayter household. I’ve got the fever and Kay’s 98.6. Maybe a little lower. It’s not car fever I have, though. What I’ve got is popcorn popper fever. A couple of you probably guessed that.

The popcorn popper I want sells for $474. It’s like the one in the theatre only not as big. A lot not as big. The popper pot holds only six ounces of kernels. For $600 I can get one with an eight-ounce pot. I see no need to push for an extra two ounces.

I know what you’re thinking. You’re thinking, when is the zombie craze going to end? I beg you to not let your mind drift. This is serious. Some of you don’t care about my dilemma because you don’t fully appreciate popcorn.

I was raised on popcorn. My first memory is of me trying to get a fistful of popcorn away from Dennis. Hard to do much damage with only one tooth. Mom used to pop corn in our old burned up pot. Nobody remembered what it looked like new. Not sure where it even came from.

Mom would stick that pot an open flame and shake it till her teeth rattled. Throw it in a bowl and set it in the middle of the floor. To this day, I can’t eat popcorn slowly. I shove it in my mouth like I’m one of nine pigs at a six-pig trough.

Scary thing was, Mom’s popcorn wasn’t all that good. Only every third kernel popped. Dad bought a cheap kind called Hope-it-Pops.

Theatres don’t buy cheap popcorn. They buy the best corn and butter. They sell the stuff only to theatres… and people who own theatre popcorn poppers. There’s some kind of guild.

I’ve made no secret of the fact that I go to the movie mostly for the popcorn. I can rent a movie, but I can’t rent popcorn. I’ve tried.

Yes, I realize that microwave popcorn is good. It’s just not movie popcorn. Orville Red invented microwave “Movie Popcorn.” And, were he still alive, I would slap him. Calling a moccasin a boot does not make it one. (Chief Red Cloud said that. Probably.)

The best thing about movie popcorn is that Kay doesn’t eat much of it. She thinks it’s not good for her. Too much salt and butter. Plus, when it hits your colon, it has an 18 year half-life.

I refuse to dissuade Kay from her silly concerns about popcorn. I might’ve been born at night, but it wasn’t last night. (Can’t believe I worked that in.)

No, the only way I’m getting my mini corn popper is by showing Kay the math. I could probably buy over a dozen poppers for the cost of one Tempur-Pedic mattress. That’s the fever Kay has. She apparently wants to put wine glasses on the bed and jump up and down.

 Only people who have ‘em, now how much a Tempu-Pedic cost, and they’re keeping quiet. One ad announces that it’ll sell Kay a mattress at a savings of $1500. That scares the daylights out of me.

It all has to do with priorities. What’s more important, a good night’s sleep or all the movie popcorn you can eat anytime you want? Yet, Kay still can’t see the logic. Oh yeah, the devil is grinning bigtime.

END

To see Brad and Mark’s latest restaurant review, click on pic.