No, I did not sit down for an interview with TV dinners. I may do that in the future, but not now. I am irritated by the fact that I always fall for the delicious looking picture on the box.
A few weeks ago I was looking for a lunch for work the next day and finally decided the meatloaf looked good. I know you’re thinking, meatloaf? Well it did look good. A big plump, juicy piece of meat, gravy, mashed potatoes, corn, man it looked good.
I opened my frozen dinner about noon to find that the plump, juicy hunk of meat pictured on the box, was in fact so small that I cannot even dignify it by calling it a nugget. I thought there must have been more in there, but they had either fallen out, or if my normal pattern of luck held true, were never placed in the box at the factory.
This is not my first experience with this, which would suggest that I am an idiot. (But, you probably guessed that already.) The same has occurred with a chicken meal. It looked like a nice normal sized chicken breast. Instead of the 36DD chicken breast on the box I got the A cup. (Breast sizes are for comparison only and are not to offend anyone on either end of the spectrum or those in the middle. If I knew the mechanism for measuring the size of chicken breasts I would have used that instead.)
I think there should be a disclaimer on the box that says that, “The photo on the box is the photo of the first meal in this line prepared for the president of our company. Since you are not the president of our company, and are merely of a consumer, your actual dinner will be roughly ½ this size.” “Roughly ½ this size may mean actually ¼ of ½ of the size of the food on the box.” “When we say food on the box we mean it will look similar in nature and feel similar in texture to the food depicted on the box, but the food may not actually be meat, or vegetables.” “When we say meat, we actually mean we have no clue what this crap is. God only knows, we just get it in big barrels, put it in the mold and cook it. God be with you oh weary consumer. Our prayers are with you.”
Friday, May 9, 2008
I’d Rather be Eaten Quickly by a Big Dog, than Slowly by a Little Dog
One afternoon I came home from work, got out of my pick-up and headed for the front door. Just before I got there I heard a dog barking down the street. It was coming from a front yard so I stepped back to take a look.
My dog has a talent for tearing the 6 foot fence pickets down either in one piece or multiple pieces, and then getting out. The bark did not sound like Harvey’s but I wanted to make sure.
It was not Harvey, but it was a very big unpleasant looking dog. I paused and watched it barking at some neighbors down the street. It was a man and woman, getting out of their vehicle. From their body language I could tell it wasn’t their dog and they were concerned by its barking.
The man made a few motions to shoo the dog away, but it just stepped out into the street still barking. They eased towards their front door as the dog kept moving closer to their house. I waited poised to race down and come to their aid if need be. (Remember that the picture of the barking dog and the heroic neighbor rushing to the rescue was playing out in my head. In would like to believe I would have rushed down to lend a helping hand, but in all reality I may have simply wet myself and rushed inside.)
I opened the front door, and went in to drop my load of stuff. I did leave the front door open, thinking the whole time how stupid that was because one of the two mobile rug rats may have gone to the door and been attacked, or a very large, drooling, vicious dog may have entered my home. He didn’t.
I told my wife what was going on and went and grabbed one of my pocket knives. My intent was to go back outside and see if the dog had gone away, or if he was vicious or just loud. I did not plan to provoke the dog, but if he planned to attack me I intended to have something in my hand for defense. With no large sticks or rocks readily available, my knife was my only choice. (Now remember without ever have being place in one of these very intense situations, I have no frame of reference. I just basing my own potential off of those I’ve seen in the movies. But, I figure my heroism more closely resembles Napoleon Dynamite, than Die Hard’s John McClain.)
I watched the dog bark at a neighbor walking her own dogs. He never attacked, just stepped out into the street and made his presence known. Figuring that some dog owner would soon return home and put him away, I went back inside. I took the trash out to the dumpster, fending off the muddy paws and slobbering tongue of my own dog.
During this process our little min pin/dachshund mix came in the house. After a few more minutes I could still here the large dog barking out front. I decided to have another look and opened the front door. I was startled when I saw the large dog standing in the street right in front of my house. He was only a couple of feet from my driveway. I turned to make sure none of the kids were coming to the door in case he decided to eat me.
While doing this Lady slipped by me and darted out the door toward the monstrous dog. I watched, in shock, as my dog ran off, stupidly, to meet her demise. I yelled, “Lady! Lady, get back here!” I cringed waiting to hear the snarling the yelping then the silence of my dead dog clutched in the jaws of this beast.
It turns out my little dog unlike me is more John McClain than Napoleon Dynamite. My fear turned to laughter as this dog, roughly 1/20th the size of the other dog chased it away. The big dog almost fell over itself trying to turn around and run away. I would submit maybe he was afraid of the slightly overweight, pasty white guy running out of the house screaming “Lady! Lady!” (Note: “Lady!” is said not in a forlorn longing type of way, but more of a “Hey get your ass back here sort of way!”)
However, it wasn’t I that scared him. This tiny dog barking like a crazy little idiot, and if you’ve met lady you know she’s a crazy little idiot, chased the giant dog away. She stopped about two houses down the block on the other side of the street. I did not see the big dog stop, nor have I seen him since.
Note: The Matt Dutton Memorial Golf Tournament will be held on June 14, 2008, with lunch at 11:30 am and a shotgun start at 1:00 pm. If you are interested in playing please email me at klanejames@hotmail.com ASAP. I’m going to try to fill all the slots well before the tournament, so if you think I’m holding one for you or you can just contact me the week before, go ahead and email me now and make sure I’ve got your name down. If you want to donate to help the scholarship fund, send me an email and I’ll tell you where to send the money. We need participants so if you play check your calendar and come on out. The entry fee is $50/person or $150/ 3 person team.
My dog has a talent for tearing the 6 foot fence pickets down either in one piece or multiple pieces, and then getting out. The bark did not sound like Harvey’s but I wanted to make sure.
It was not Harvey, but it was a very big unpleasant looking dog. I paused and watched it barking at some neighbors down the street. It was a man and woman, getting out of their vehicle. From their body language I could tell it wasn’t their dog and they were concerned by its barking.
The man made a few motions to shoo the dog away, but it just stepped out into the street still barking. They eased towards their front door as the dog kept moving closer to their house. I waited poised to race down and come to their aid if need be. (Remember that the picture of the barking dog and the heroic neighbor rushing to the rescue was playing out in my head. In would like to believe I would have rushed down to lend a helping hand, but in all reality I may have simply wet myself and rushed inside.)
I opened the front door, and went in to drop my load of stuff. I did leave the front door open, thinking the whole time how stupid that was because one of the two mobile rug rats may have gone to the door and been attacked, or a very large, drooling, vicious dog may have entered my home. He didn’t.
I told my wife what was going on and went and grabbed one of my pocket knives. My intent was to go back outside and see if the dog had gone away, or if he was vicious or just loud. I did not plan to provoke the dog, but if he planned to attack me I intended to have something in my hand for defense. With no large sticks or rocks readily available, my knife was my only choice. (Now remember without ever have being place in one of these very intense situations, I have no frame of reference. I just basing my own potential off of those I’ve seen in the movies. But, I figure my heroism more closely resembles Napoleon Dynamite, than Die Hard’s John McClain.)
I watched the dog bark at a neighbor walking her own dogs. He never attacked, just stepped out into the street and made his presence known. Figuring that some dog owner would soon return home and put him away, I went back inside. I took the trash out to the dumpster, fending off the muddy paws and slobbering tongue of my own dog.
During this process our little min pin/dachshund mix came in the house. After a few more minutes I could still here the large dog barking out front. I decided to have another look and opened the front door. I was startled when I saw the large dog standing in the street right in front of my house. He was only a couple of feet from my driveway. I turned to make sure none of the kids were coming to the door in case he decided to eat me.
While doing this Lady slipped by me and darted out the door toward the monstrous dog. I watched, in shock, as my dog ran off, stupidly, to meet her demise. I yelled, “Lady! Lady, get back here!” I cringed waiting to hear the snarling the yelping then the silence of my dead dog clutched in the jaws of this beast.
It turns out my little dog unlike me is more John McClain than Napoleon Dynamite. My fear turned to laughter as this dog, roughly 1/20th the size of the other dog chased it away. The big dog almost fell over itself trying to turn around and run away. I would submit maybe he was afraid of the slightly overweight, pasty white guy running out of the house screaming “Lady! Lady!” (Note: “Lady!” is said not in a forlorn longing type of way, but more of a “Hey get your ass back here sort of way!”)
However, it wasn’t I that scared him. This tiny dog barking like a crazy little idiot, and if you’ve met lady you know she’s a crazy little idiot, chased the giant dog away. She stopped about two houses down the block on the other side of the street. I did not see the big dog stop, nor have I seen him since.
Note: The Matt Dutton Memorial Golf Tournament will be held on June 14, 2008, with lunch at 11:30 am and a shotgun start at 1:00 pm. If you are interested in playing please email me at klanejames@hotmail.com ASAP. I’m going to try to fill all the slots well before the tournament, so if you think I’m holding one for you or you can just contact me the week before, go ahead and email me now and make sure I’ve got your name down. If you want to donate to help the scholarship fund, send me an email and I’ll tell you where to send the money. We need participants so if you play check your calendar and come on out. The entry fee is $50/person or $150/ 3 person team.
Saturday, May 3, 2008
Mmmmm... Donuts!
On the way to church one Sunday morning we decided to stop and get some donuts. It was kind of a special treat because, well we were actually up early enough to stop and get donuts before church. Normally it would be out of the question because we would be running 5 to 30 minutes late.
Well we decided to stop and grab something for us and the kids. Part of me wanted a breakfast burrito (no not from BK), but there was also a donut place right there as well. So we asked the kids. (Yes I know in hindsight this was a stupid move.)
We pulled up to the drive-up window and began the decision process. This place has sausage and cheese kolaches. They also have really good cake donuts and... Mmmmm...Cake donuts. Oh sorry.
Anyway, we decided to go with a half dozen assorted, thinking ok surely we'll get a cake donut or two, and the kids don't care as long as it's round with a hole in the middle. (Who am I kidding, it could be green and rectangular with a hole in the upper left corner as long as it was composed of about 98% sugar.)
We ordered and were asked, "Does it matter what kinds." No we replied confidently. We were handed our donuts and we drove away. I held the box in my hands, both girls were squeal ling excitedly awaiting their sugary treat.
I opened the box, and said "Oh Crap." What was it? A half eaten donut, rodent droppings, a bug? No worse. 1 plain donut, 1 chocolate donut, 1 strawberry donut, 1 white icing donut, 1 light brown icing donut (the previous two I'm unsure of the flavors so descriptions of the colors will do), and 1 with icing and sprinkles.
Those of you without kids are wondering what the issue is here. Those of you with kids are probably as horrified as we were. We were a few blocks from church, we're dressed and ready to go, and we are about to hand our kids a sugar hand grenade that is bound to spray colored icing shrapnel all over our church clothes.
Well to sum it up, we made it without incident. My girls inherited their eating skills from their mother. I on the other hand managed to drop some sauce that shall remain nameless due to his refusal to grant me an interview to this point, on my shirt and pants just before I had to leave the house Saturday, requiring to me to make a quick change. So I hope your kids are naturally clean eaters, and always remember to specify your donut assortment when heading to church.
Well we decided to stop and grab something for us and the kids. Part of me wanted a breakfast burrito (no not from BK), but there was also a donut place right there as well. So we asked the kids. (Yes I know in hindsight this was a stupid move.)
We pulled up to the drive-up window and began the decision process. This place has sausage and cheese kolaches. They also have really good cake donuts and... Mmmmm...Cake donuts. Oh sorry.
Anyway, we decided to go with a half dozen assorted, thinking ok surely we'll get a cake donut or two, and the kids don't care as long as it's round with a hole in the middle. (Who am I kidding, it could be green and rectangular with a hole in the upper left corner as long as it was composed of about 98% sugar.)
We ordered and were asked, "Does it matter what kinds." No we replied confidently. We were handed our donuts and we drove away. I held the box in my hands, both girls were squeal ling excitedly awaiting their sugary treat.
I opened the box, and said "Oh Crap." What was it? A half eaten donut, rodent droppings, a bug? No worse. 1 plain donut, 1 chocolate donut, 1 strawberry donut, 1 white icing donut, 1 light brown icing donut (the previous two I'm unsure of the flavors so descriptions of the colors will do), and 1 with icing and sprinkles.
Those of you without kids are wondering what the issue is here. Those of you with kids are probably as horrified as we were. We were a few blocks from church, we're dressed and ready to go, and we are about to hand our kids a sugar hand grenade that is bound to spray colored icing shrapnel all over our church clothes.
Well to sum it up, we made it without incident. My girls inherited their eating skills from their mother. I on the other hand managed to drop some sauce that shall remain nameless due to his refusal to grant me an interview to this point, on my shirt and pants just before I had to leave the house Saturday, requiring to me to make a quick change. So I hope your kids are naturally clean eaters, and always remember to specify your donut assortment when heading to church.
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