Do Fish Have Nipples?

Do fish have nipples? This and many others are the types of question you’re faced with daily as a parent. My two year old was sitting with her mother having the nipple discussion that occurs rather frequently. We’ve established conclusively that mommy has nipples because we have a nursing little one in this house this subject has been covered.

Of course a two year olds mind works like that of a CSI detective. One answer is not sufficient. There must be more to this nipple story. Does daddy have nipples? Yes. Does Kyla have nipples? Yes. Does PaPa have nipples? Yes. Does the swing have nipples? Does the wha… No the swing doesn’t have nipples.

Now remember these questions are coming from a two year old who is developing her speech so there is heavy emphasis on each word. DOES--------DA-DEEEE--------HAVE----NIII—PLLLLLESSSS! Yes. These questions are so much more entertaining in a crowded place or, oh let’s say church.

We concluded that everyone in the family has nipples. And then we got into animals. Yes puppies have nipples, quite a few actually. Cats have nipples. (See Meet Me the Parents) Then the tricky question came. Do fish have nipples? Mommy was stumped. Let’s turn to daddy, the guy who gets all the tough questions.

My instinct said no. But, I don’t answer conclusively unless I know for certain. Not even to a two year old who will forget what question she asked three seconds later. So I went to the internet to research it. Yes you read that right I went to the internet to research nipples. What do you think you might find on the internet when entering that into Google. Surprisingly. No porn. On the first page, I didn’t venture any further.

Fish do not have nipples as they are not a mammal and do not nurse their young. So I guess whales might have nipples since they are a mammal. Yep, they do. So for those of you who don’t have kid when the nipple discussion comes about, just remember. Mammals have nipples. Birds, fish, reptiles, amphibians and things that are not mammals do not have nipples. Bourbon Street has nipples but it’s not a mammal. Don’t Google that.

Fast Food From Another Angle

For those of you who read my Myspace blog you know I have been fairly critical of fast food establishments. In particular I targeted one orange and white establishment which will remain nameless, but what a place it is.

I ventured into this place late last week for lunch. I have found that no matter which one I go to the staff is usually slow, incompetent, and despite the claim of thousands of ways to customize your order any deviation from the norm results in disastrous consequences.

Every time I have gone in from the panhandle to the coast I have been dissatisfied with some aspect of the service. I thought all this time that this was the fault of the restaurant. But, in fact the fault may be my own. Yeah I know. That's exactly what I thought. ME!

I set my expectations way to high. I went in expecting prompt, competent service and the food I ordered to be prepared quickly and correctly. You see the fault lies with me. Here is the attitude I should have had and the attitude I took in with me last week. Yes I have beaten the system and I'll share it with you now.

The key is approaching it like an Adam Sandler movie. Lower your expectations. If you do that you can't lose. I went in thinking, "If I leave with two pieces of bread and a piece of meat I'll be happy. Anything else is just icing on the cake."

I entered and my attention immediately went to the two people behind the counter. One a short female, the other apparently a tall male. I approached the counter and the female asked me for my order. I looked at the menu and saw the add for the bacon BBQ cheese something or other.

I decided on that, but in the junior size because I'm a cheapskate. (It's easy to be cheap when that's the only option.) She turned and stared at the add behind me for a few seconds and then turned back to the register. (This was a tense moment as one of my experiences with this restaurant in a different town had yielded the response of, "we don't have that one," after they turned and looked at the advertisement for the thing I had just ordered right behind her.) I breathed a sigh of relief as it seemed we were safely past the initial ordering phase.

She looked over the many brightly colored keys at the register. (They are dazzling.) I was standing where I could see the buttons and all that she was doing. I could also read the handwritten instructions taped to the top of the register that explained exactly how to ring up this particular order in the event that someone ordered it. It involved pushing a series of buttons in the right sequence. The sequence exactly as it was written on the paper. Uh, oh roadblock on the way to Full-Tummyville.

Not to fear her partner quickly came over and after soem examination, interpreted the instructions for her and he pused the colred buttons in the sequence listed. But this did not work. Ha Ha. Not as easy as it seems smart ass blogger! So it seems.

The manager was called from the kitchen. She swooped in like a super hero and pushed the colored buttons in the right order and the register beeped. A beep, oh yes the sweet beep signaling that food will soon be mine.

My female order taker continued to push buttons to complete the combo order. The price lit up on the LED screen and, "What the crap? It's not that much." I didn't even have to say it. This order taker unlike many I've had before recognized that this was not correct. Her male helper sweeps over and realizes that his first attempt at pushing colored buttons in the correct order was successful but had not yielded a beep. He corrected this by pushing more buttons which did yield a beep and then the correct total. Yeah this is going great. Lowered expectations do work.

This staff was head and shoulders above any I had come into contact with. As I took my cup I looked at the tall, short haired male's name tag. "Emily" Yeah, that's what I thought, too. I looked at Emily, back down to the name tag, back at Emily. Yep not seeing it but OK. Bravo. Every time it's like dinner and a show, and I just failed to enjoy the show the previous times I ate at this chain. This time the plot twist was out of this world. I think I'm getting great service from a male/female team and boom "It's Pat." Bravo! Bravo!

Hollywod Condimential: A Sit Down with Fancy Ketchup, Tomato Ketchup and Catsup

I've often wondered what makes fancy ketchup fancy? Why isn't tomato ketchup fancy, and isn't fancy ketchup tomato ketchup too? Is there a difference in ketchup and catsup? The question has been pondered by more than me, and the simple answer give is that there just the same. If you read the ingredients labels, they're all the same. Fancy ketchup seems to be just tomato ketchup in fancy packaging. Catsup seems to be just another way to say ketchup. But there is more to it. It's easy enough to read a label and draw a conclusion but has anyone actually tried to speak to these three about the issue?

I sat down for an interview with Fancy Ketchup, Tomato Ketchup, and Catsup to found out there similarities, differences, secrets and desires for a more flavorful world.

Kyle (K): I really want to take you three for taking the time to sit down and speak with me today. I am a really big fan of all three of you.

Fancy Ketchup (FK): Oh, it's no bother at all old chap. Really, it's great to be here. Simply terrific.

Tomato Ketchup (TK): Yes, we all enjoy the chance to sit down and "catch up."
(Laughter from group)

Catsup (C): What? What's everyone laughing at?

K: Ok, first let's get right to the questions everyone seems to be asking but is too afraid to ask. What makes you guys different? Why is fancy, fancy? Why is catsup spelled completely different from the two of you?

FK: Well, I guess I'll address the question regarding me first. I don't think anything in particular makes me fancy, or that there's anything about me that makes me better than either of my counterparts here. It's really more of a nickname I picked up at the academy.

K: The academy?

TK: The condiment academy. It's the place where all new condiments go to see if they can "cut the mustard," so to speak. (Laughter from TK)

C: That's where I actually developed my spelling of my name.

FK: Yes, Catsup actually found himself in a very tough spot, with Tomato and I, fighting for the shelves. He had to come up with his own identity and I think he did it quite well.

K: But why Fancy? Why not, Awesome or Amazing Ketchup, or simply Great?

C: That's because of his accent. He's got that British accent that made him sound so... so... well so fancy.

TK: Yeah, that name actually stuck with him from the first day, and it allowed us to share the top spot in the "Condiment for French Fry" category. We each went on to be mass produced and enjoyed around the world.

K: Tell me a little about your relationship with mustard? Which one of you is closest with him?

TK: Mustard is a really great guy. He's just done so well for himself. When we all graduated he seemed like a second tier condiment, just an addition to one of the three of us.

FK: But, the chap really took off didn't he. He's the most popular on the American burger, on the hot dog, he's worked a great deal with honey for a tasty combo for chicken and other items. He really has excelled, and he's a jolly good tennis player.

C: We were out on the courts the other day and he has really stepped up his game. You know he's got that big match coming up with Bar-B-Que (BBQ) Sauce.

TK: Oh not BBQ. That guy is such an ass.

FK: Now, Tomato. He is a bit abrasive but he's got his good qualities. Though they have yet to present themselves.

K: I'm sensing a little hostility towards BBQ Sauce. Tell me a little about that?

TK: Well there's not much to tell. BBQ is a pompous ass and that's all there's is to it. That son of a...

FK: Tomato, that's quite enough. There's no sense in lowering ourselves to his level.

TK: He's just an offshoot of us Fancy and you know it. He came from a mixture of Catsup over there and some other crap and presto, we've got an absolute worthless piece of...

FK: That'll be enough of that.

K: Catsup, you've been very quiet.

C: Well, it's a hard topic. I was hanging out with the wrong crowd. I was you and we were experimenting with some substances, I went too far, passed out, and the next morning there was BBQ. He was nice enough at first but then he started gaining popularity and then... Well now, you'd just have to get to meet him to understand.

K: So I gather he didn't go through this Condiment Academy like you three did.

TK: No he didn't, he rode our coattails onto store shelves and now his ego's on pace to grow so dad gum big, there won't be a bottle big enough to put it in.

K: Well I want to thank you three for your time. You've shed some light on some very interesting issues.

FK: It was our pleasure. We do so hope this clears the air on this issue once and for all.

Catsup: Yeah, we just want people to know we are all the same, all are united, and are all striving for the same goal.

TK: Yes, and next time any of you see BBQ you tell him he can kiss my red...

K: Thank you again.

So, there you have it. I hope that clears up that issue. But, I do find myself wondering about BBQ Sauce. I have too, found myself impressed with his bold flavor, variety, and ability to make me eat until I am physically sick. Stay tuned for my next sit down interview with BBQ Sauce, in the next in the Hollywood Condimential series.

Cookies Are a Sometimes Food, My Rear-end!

I always kind of identified with Cookie Monster when I was growing up. He was blue, I liked blue. He liked cookies, I like cookies. He referred to himself in the third person often using me rather than I, me do that sometimes too.

As Sesame Street grew more and more liberal with that growing trend in public television and radio, Cookie Monster was forced to cave to the anti-sugar lobby. Since we have decided in America that our children are too stupid to figure out that Cookie Monster is a puppet and cookies are not something we need to eat all the time, and on top of that the stupid cookies just break up and fall out of his black felt mouth anyway, he has to now tell kids Cookies are just a sometimes food. Cookie Monster regularly eats good fruits and vegetables in addition to his cookie diet.

Place a plate of cookies and a plate of vegetables in front of a child and what will they choose? Well the blue puppet on TV said vegetables are good for me, and cookies are just a sometimes food, but he's just a stupid puppet and cookies rock! Put that same test in front of me and it's cookies every time.

I know this issue is old news, but I write it because I have faced this cookie issue recently. Today in fact. I came home to the smell of fresh baked cookies, of the chocolate chip variety. Now I try to watch what I eat, but 10 times out of 10 I find myself watching a cookie all the way to my mouth every time I walk past the plate.

So my point is: Screw you anti-cookie people. Kids are going to eat cookies regardless of what stupid PBS characters tell them to do. Let Cookie Monster eat cookies until he goes into a diabetic coma. In honor of my blue friend and in protest of the anti-cookie lobby. I think I'll go have a cookie right now.

Kyle Gets Stupid in New Orleans

The title may have fooled you. No I did not get drunk on Bourbon Street. In fact when most people get stupid in New Orleans they can at least claim they were drunk. I don't even have that as a defense.

I'll describe three events that occurred, which did not make me look stupid because I'm smart enough to keep my mouth shut. However it made me feel stupid and does make for good blog material. I have to be willing to be self deprecating because it's funny. (And it allows me to write about my wife because, hey I make fun of myself so she's fair game too.)

Scenario Number 1: Kyle's not so much with the crossing of the traffic.
I stayed down in the warehouse district just a few blocks from the French Quarter. The streets in this area are not much more than alleyways, so you pretty much walk wherever you want to go. This requires you to cross some streets, unless you just want to circle the same block several times (which I ended up doing). So on the first day there I decided to go explore a little bit.

I would often find myself coming to an intersection as a car stopped at a stop sign in the same intersection. Now not being a frequent pedestrian I would find myself unsure of whether I should go or they should go so I would change my game plan all together and just turn down the same sidewalk. This resulted in me circling the same blocks of the warehouse district over and over again. I made it as far as Canal Street, just 5 blocks away. It is a major thoroughfare which separates the warehouse district and the French Quarter. Needless to say since I had trouble crossing 10 feet of pavement I didn't make it across by myself and turned around and headed back to the hotel.

I know your saying, "Wow, that's stupid, but I was hoping for more." Let me introduce you to,
Scenario Number 2: Oh, God! There's a pigeon on my hand.

During a lunch break I decided to venture out on my own and explore the Riverwalk Mall and get the girls some souvenirs so I would have time to visit the WWII Museum later that afternoon. (By this point I had mastered the whole street crossing thing so I was good on my own.)

The mall and lunch were pretty calm. I made my purchase ate a Philly cheese steak and dined while watching barges go up and down the Mississippi. (Yes it's an exciting life I lead, I know.) The real fun occurred on my walk back to the hotel.

I bought the girls Mardi Gras masks, and a bear for Madisyn. They each had large black feathers protruding from the mask, mixed with some purple, green and yellow. They didn't quite fit in the bag some some feathers inevitably stuck out. As I walked I noticed two pigeons walking along the ground.

Out of the corner of my eye I caught a glimpse of a long black feather, similar to the color of the pigeons I was just looking at, near my hand. The only logical conclusion my mind could come to at that point was, "A pigeon is on my hand. Oh my God!" So I began to swing my arm to get it off. As I swung I noticed that there appeared to be no extra weight on my hand other than the bag I was carrying which had the mask in it, which were covered in large black.... "Oh jeez!"

Yep, I freaked out because I saw a feather from the mask and thought it was a pigeon. Honest mistake right? Anyone could do that. Well, my friends meet,
Scenario Number 3: New Orleans is magic. Wow!

On my second night there, I met up with three other people from Texas, and colleague from New Orleans suggested that we visit Cafe Maspero. It was good, and relatively inexpensive. He did have one condition that we all join him at Pat O'Briens, a bar down in the French Quarter.

After dinner I walked along with the group and we made our way to Pat O'Briens (Of course the whole time I wanted to crack the joke of, "I thought he was just an alcoholic, I didn't know he owned his own bar," in reference to The Insider host Pat O'Brien. Yeah you didn't laugh either that's why I kept it to myself.)

Many of the buildings in the French Quarter have an open air courtyard in the center. (This is something I was not aware of.) We walked through the front door, (right across from Reverend Zombie's Voodoo Shop, aces!) To the right was a piano lounge, to the left a bar and then through another set of open double doors.

This is the point when I looked up and thought to myself, "Wow, look at this ceiling. It looks just like the sky. It's like the great hall at Hogwarts. How did they..." As the cold wind swept over me and I noticed the trees peeking over the walls I realized that, yep, I was outside. I was not looking at a bewitched ceiling. I was looking up at the sky.

Overall the trip was good. (Other than my stupid episodes which thankfully only occurred by myself or in my own mind, but reproduced here for your entertainment.)