Author Archives: redelephantblogger

The Christmas Debacle of 2004 (or was it ’05?)

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So I don’t know if you’ve figured it out yet, but our mother can’t cook.

At all.

When big holidays come around, someone else always takes control of the kitchen.  We want to eat, and we don’t want to die.  We understand self-preservation.  But one year, our mother decided that she was going to do Easter dinner, and wouldn’t let any of us stop her.

So on Easter morning, she took a turkey out of the freezer and put it in a pan in the oven.

Twenty minutes later I came by (just to check up on it), and took the turkey out to remove the plastic wrapper.  You know, the wrapping that has the brand of turkey and nutritional info on it?

Twelve hours later, we had turkey for Easter dinner.  Nothing else.

We’ve managed to prevent her from cooking since then.

It’s okay, everyone doesn’t need to be a gourmet chef.  We don’t mind that our mom can’t cook.  We just mind it when she tries and forces us to eat it.  That’s just mean!

So if you can’t cook, you have a few options. 

Option 1: Learn, but please don’t force others to eat your crappy cooking along the way.

Option 2: Make other people cook.  I mean, it’s easier for you anyway!

Option 3: Become a take-out queen (or king)!

 And don’t offer to make Easter, or Thanksgiving, or Christmas Dinner.

being kind kinda stinks.

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Phone call from Sibling #2 to Sibling #1…

“Please watch the mini me tomorrow??”

Being it was an emergency of sorts…I said yes. I’m a nice person.

I’ll let you know how being nice turns out.
In my experience…not always well.

But, they say you might not reap the rewards of being kind now…but later.

I’m thinking that was said by the person doing the asking.
Just saying.

Update:

The mini me was dropped of with 2 changes of clothes.
Why??
In case he pukes all over his current clothes.

No joke.

Sigh.

Sisters and Slinkys

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I had an “aha!” moment last night while watching TV.

Commercials were on, and right after a truly horrific political ad for a complete idiot who should never have even been allowed to graduate 1st grade, I spotted the exact replica of Sibling 10.

It was a Geico commercial.

You know, the ones where you see some random scene and then two guys are on a wierd little stage playing a banjo and guitar and saying how happy people with Geico are?

This particular commercial was a scene of a slinky going down an escalator.

Sibling 10 is the slinky.

Liver, head cheese, and spinach…oh my!

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Flashback….Food.

Let’s have 5 small children under 8 years old.
Let’s have them sit at say…the dining room table.
It’s supper time.
Enter mom with dinner.
Horrified looks amongst the children.

Liver and onions, head cheese, and canned spinach (straight from the can) are plopped onto each plate with these instructions…

“don’t leave your chair until every bit is gone”.

Huh? But…but…he’s only 4. He has to eat 4 head cheese AND liver AND spinach.

True story.

rock hard stomachs.
poison won’t kill us.

I plead the 5th!

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In the early years, before Sibling 11 showed up, our family lived in a place that had a really large yard.  And in this yard were two perfect rows of fully grown pine trees.  These rows were set just far enough apart for a couple people to walk through at the same time.

So we naturally decided the trees were set up perfectly for our use.

On one end of these rows we created a little seating area out of logs.  Along the “walkway”, we laid down an extra thick layer of carpet (okay, pine needles).  And then we spent most of the summer having weddings and playing lawyer.

I have no idea how many times I married my brother, or acted as part of the jury deciding whether my younger sister was guilty.

It was awesome.

And these trees served an additional purpose; they were a natural hiding place.  Whenever our mom called us into the house, we would ignore her (she usually didn’t have a good reason for wanting us to come in, anyway).  Usually, ignoring her worked and she would leave us to keep playing until we decided to come in ourselves.  Some days, when she had special energy for some reason, she would get annoyed enough to come looking for us and try to force us inside.

And we’d take to the trees.

All of us.  A couple of my siblings would hoist me (I was only 5ish) and my little sister into our trees before taking to theirs.  And then we would climb.

High.

And hide on the opposite side of the tree our mother was on.

When she left we would climb down and continue our rudely interrupted wedding.

This is what I saw when I came home from work at the end of the day…

No really…you can’t make this stuff up. 
They were hanging out of the trees saying hello. 
All 10(?) of them. 

I bet I win!

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So, I’m wondering if everyone has a sibling in there life that asks for help moving out of their apartment?

You do?

Okay fine…do you have a sibling that requires a police escort when moving out of their apartment?

Didn’t think so.

I win.

be free Cheeseman.

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the cheese man is taking up all my time and energy right now. You would think that cheese man’s problems are the running force in the family drama right now.

Not so.

Sadly, while cheese man (Sibling #6B) is distressed because his cheese doesn’t return his love… sibling #2 has even greater troubles.

You see…one of his beloved children is very very sick.
And in the hospital.
For an extended time.

Which means that sibling #1 is caring for the other of his beloved children.

Yet, cheese man seems to see his lack of cheese’s love  should be of greater importance to Sibling #1

Sibling #1 has thrown in the towel. Or the cheese. Whatever phrase works for describing being fed up. That’s the one to use.

Cheese man needs to go dairy-free…immediately.

The man who loves cheese’s 3 step plan.

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The man who loved cheese: update

After seeking the advice of those outside the world of cheese the man who loved cheese has decided to:

1. stop going to the cheese store. This may be hard, he feels it is his right to enter the cheese store whenever he wishes. But, at the advice of others he is staying away.

2. stop watching cheese commercials. But, he finds them so sweet and compelling. He loves to watch them. He will watch them again and again. But…he has been advised that they just cause him to yearn for cheese all the stronger.

3. stop sniffing empty cheese cartons. Yes, this is weird. And he realizes that it isn’t good for beating his addiction to cheese to continue this practice. He promises he will stop.

Will he be strong? Will he be able to resist the power of cheese?? We’ll see.

 

The man’s love for cheese

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Once upon a time there was a man. This man had a love. A love for cheese. It was a new love (say…two months?). But, it was profound. He dreamt about cheese, he swam in cheese, he dressed in cheese…it was his and he was cheese’s.

But, sadly, cheese did not return his love. How could it? It was cheese. Cheese made him vomit and poo. Not the lovely poo of ordinary people. No, this was a horrid poo. But, did this man decide that cheese could no longer be his love? No, he just ate it all the  more. He decided that if he showed the cheese that no matter that it gave him horrid poo, he would still love it…that all would be well.

But, as in most stories of unwanted love…this story cannot end well.

The cheese told the man (through poo of course) that the man must leave it alone. No more swimming in cheese, eating cheese, dressing in cheese. The love for cheese must end. Or the cheese was going to cause such horrid poo that the man would wish to end his life.

The man was devastated. How could he live without cheese?? He sought the advice of those outside of the cheese world. What would they do? What would they have him do?
He was certain that if he did not have cheese…he would die. He was certain that his very being was now made up with cheese. To be seperated would bring certain death.

What will the man do? What should he do?

(the man is sibling #6B. Of course it’s not cheese. It’s a girl. Doh. Do you really need to be told that? And  you can figure out the gist of the story. Or not. Whatever)

a joke or two.

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Q. What’s black and white and red all over???

A. ME—after my mom’s been over.

Q. What time is it when my mom comes over?

A. Time to get a new address.

Q. How do you confuse a blonde?

A. Have her talk to my mom.

Ha ha!! Yes, they are mean.
Too bad. My blog. My mom.

And, you know you have your own about your family.
Don’t pretend you don’t.

Oh…oh..oh!! You can add them in the comments! Best one gets on a post soon!