Chocolate Peanut Butter Trifle

Time for another Tasty Tuesday Tinalicious treat...also known as a recipe for you newbies. :) This recipe is similar to one I've seen all over the Web recently. But as I often do, either because I don't like something in a recipe, or because I don't have all the ingredients called for, or just because I like to make a recipe my own, I have changed some of the ingredients. It sure turned out great though, and everybody loved it on Thanksgiving. So I just had to share it with you.

Ingredients

• 1 Box of Twinkies, the Chocolate Cream-filled ones (original recipe calls for Brownies--and that was just too rich for my blood)


• 1 Large Box of Instant Chocolate Pudding (5 oz Box)


• 1 Tub of Cool Whip (or make your own whipped cream)


• 1 Bag Reese's Peanut Butter Cups (chop up about a cup or two of them--however many you like really)


• 1 Cup Creamy Peanut Butter


• 1 Cup Powdered Sugar


• 2 TBSP Milk


• 1 TSP Vanilla


• 8 Ounces of Whipped Cream Cheese, at room temperature

Directions

Prepare your pudding per the package directions and refrigerate until ready to use.

Cut your Twinkies into 1/2 inch slices. If you're using Brownies just cut them into normal brownie squares.

Add the peanut butter and cream cheese to a bowl and beat at medium speed until the mixture is creamy. Add in powdered sugar and mix until combined, then mix in the milk and vanilla. Fold in 1 Cup of the Cool Whip until it turns the mixture into a lighter color and is combined.

Get your pudding and your Trifle dish (any large glass bowl will work--I have even used a punch bowl at times) and start to layer. This is what I recommend...

Put half of the pudding on the bottom of the dish. Add the Twinkies to cover all the pudding. Then add the remaining pudding on top of the Twinkies. Add the peanut butter mixture on top of the pudding. Add the remaining Cool Whip. Then sprinkle the top with the chopped peanut butter cups.

This is a great dessert, even if peanut butter isn't your favorite thing. The peanut butter flavor is very subtle. But if you're a total PB fan, you could add some extra to give it more PB kick! And you can really layer this however you want. But no matter how you do it, I bet you and your family will love it!

Is Unbloggy a Word?

Clearly, if unbloggy IS a word, then that's how I'm feeling lately. Unbloggy. You know, not-prone-to-blogging-much. Sometimes I feel like I'm just talking to myself here. Other times I just can't seem to think of anything to say. So I've resigned myself to the fact that I'm only going to blog if I really do have something to say. OR, if I have something LOL funny to share. Case in point...

Yeah, it took me a minute to find it too. And then I was all, OMG WTF?!

It's funny, no? Makes you laugh at least a little bit?

And you know what they say about laughter, right? Best medicine and all that.

Although sometimes, a good stiff drink will fix what ails you too. Ha ha. Just kidding.

Sort of.

Cheesy Potato Soup

If you really think about it, nothing warms you up on a cold day like a nice, hot bowl of soup. Well that, or having an espresso with Brad Pitt, am I right?

Of course, the espresso would be optional in that scenario. Because, let's face it: if you're lucky enough to be doing anything in a room with Brad Pitt, he's going to bring all the hotness you could possibly need. But since Brad Pitt is probably busy (because, yeah, that's the only possible reason he wouldn't be having espresso avec moi), I have settled for the hot soup and whipped up a pot of Cheesy Potato Soup instead. And it wouldn't be Tasty Tuesday if I didn't share the recipe with all of you. :) So with no further ado, here it is.

Ingredients

• 8-10 Medium Potatoes (I use regular Idaho), cut into 1/2" chunks


• 1 Small Onion, Diced


• 8 Ounces of Velveeta, cut up into slices


• 1 Cup of Milk


• 1-2 TBSP Corn Starch


• Water


• Garlic Powder, Kosher Salt, Pepper (to taste)

Directions

1. Put potatoes and onion into a Dutch Oven and add enough water just to cover; bring to a boil.


2. Reduce heat a bit and cook potatoes until just fork tender.


3. Add Milk and Velveeta, stirring until cheese is melted.


4. Add Garlic Powder, Salt and Pepper until you like the taste--I just wing it folks. I love garlic and salt so it's really just a matter of personal taste as to how much you use.


5. Once seasoned to taste, mix Corn Starch with equal parts water and stir until soup until it's thickened to your liking.


6. Serve and enjoy!

18 Days

As I write this, there are officially only 18 days left until the premiere of Breaking Dawn, Part 1. Not that I've been counting down the days for over an entire year or anything. Not like I'm obsessed or something. Really, it's the opposite of not like that at all. But to help usher in the final days of waiting for the much anticipated Twilight wedding of Bella and Edward [not to mention the headboard-breaking vampire sex scene], I came across this cute little meme and thought I'd post it for the occasion. It was too perfect not to give it a place in Meme Mania.

See you soon, Edward. Right there with about 8 billion other Twihards, both young and old(er).

Here's Johnny

Time to fess up to one of My Obsessions. You know, just one of the
toomany things I'm
abnormallyobsessed with in this humble little life of mine. And I'm not talking about any of the things I've already made abundantly clear to you here at Tinalicious.

I'm not talking about...

Nor am I talking about...

Granted, I am obsessed with those men. Why wouldn't I be? Look. At. Them. If RPattz and Bad era MJ don't qualify as obsessive material, I don't know what (or who) does! But they're just not what (or who) I'm talking about right now.

No, you see, right now, I'm talking about Johnny. And not the Johnny I'm married to either (although I do have a healthy obsession with him too, I must say, even after 29 years with the guy). I'm talking about the one and only Johnny Depp. Just face it. He's yummy.

Don't you agree?!

If those two delicious photos don't convince you, then I have one last little piece of proof positive that Johnny Depp is the very definition of the sexy-obsession-worth celebrity. Please pay close attention to his face.

Dayum, Johnny. Just dayum.

So that's my latest obsession. And really, it could be worse. I mean, I could be obsessed with solving quadratic equations.

Now that would be weird.

Selective Focus

Yes, it's WTF Wednesday time again, my peeps. Time to test your powers of observation. So check out this meme for today.

Don't feel bad if you didn't pass the test. I didn't either.

We're only human, after all. But seriously...WTF is wrong with me?!

Butterliciously Paula Deen

OK, groupies, it's Meme Mania time. You know you love it. Don't pretend like you don't. And I aim to please. Blog bonus for you too, because today's macro (a.k.a. meme) is Paula Deen-related. Now I love me some Paula Deen, y'all. And I know you do too. So don't pretend like you don't. And if you love Paula, then there's no need for me to explain the butter connection to Paula, right? Everything is better with butter!

You just have to know how thrilled I was to be shopping in Wal Mart on Friday night, only to discover that Ms. Deen's delectable delights are now available in the bakery section. Score!! So if you, too, are looking for
the chance to clog your arteries and raise your cholesterolsome sweet after dinner treats, you can now look no further than your local Wally World bakery to get something straight from Paula's oven (almost). See for yourself.

And even though butter is  bad for you, sometimes you just gotta live on the edge. Take a walk on the pure fat and empty calories wild side. Live a little. Can butter really be that bad?! Just ask Paula.

Sending you love and best dishes, from our kitchen to yours. Just the way you love it. So don't pretend you don't.

Random Obsessions That Don't Make Me Weird

OK, so I figured it's time to get you up-to-date with My Obsessions of late
whether you like it or not. Hopefully you don't think I'm weird. Or too weird. Or weirder than you thought I was the last time you read my blog. Or something.

Chuzzle: And no, it's not a drinking game. Dammit. Seriously though, the Chuzzle game on my iPhone is beyond addictive. It's really the simplest and stupidest game in the world, but surely that's part of its allure. But I guess what draws me too is just how cute the little Chuzzles are. Really. See for yourself.

Isn't he adorable? And so are all his (or hers?) multi-colored-furry-looking-Koosh-ball-like little friends. It's quite the multicultural world in Chuzzle land--with Chuzzles in almost every color. And the goal of the game is simple: line up three or more Chuzzles of the same color in a row. I don't know why, but I am seriously obsessed with that game. I can play it for an hour and be surprised that more than five minutes have passed. And if you tap one of the Chuzzles repeatedly, it will like sneeze and blow off its own fur for a second. Too fun! I know, I'm easily amused. But really, who needs Angry Birds when you've got Chuzzle???!

Tumblr: Tumblr is just another kind of blog platform. I call it the blog for people who don't like to write, because really, you don't have to write to have a Tumblr blog. Most people post photos, memes, quotes, digital art, music, links, videos or just about any other kind of thing you can imagine.

There are over 30 million blogs on Tumblr. It's really the perfect blog for lazy people. Not that I'm lazy. But I mean, if you want to blog but don't feel like putting a lot of effort into it, it's perfect. LOL That may be why there are so many teenagers on Tumblr. Do you have a teenage son or daughter? If so, ask if they're on Tumblr...because they probably are. Some of the best laughs of my day are found on Tumblr. So it's always worth a visit from me every day...and even Facebook doesn't get that from me. Tumblr is  truly one of my favorite obsessions.

Boogie Shoes, by KC & The Sunshine Band: Hadn't heard that song in years and then surfed into it in iTunes. Downloaded it. Can't stop listening to it. It's a blast from my Boogie Shoes past. I love it!

Now wasn't that fun? I think so. And that's the end of my random obsessions. See? I'm not so weird after all.

3 Memes for Your Monday

Got the Monday blahs? Feeling low? Need a little pick-me-up? Wishing I'd stop asking questions and just cut to the chase? Well alrighty then. I've collected a few random funny macros from the web recently, each of which made me...you know. L.O.L. So I added them to my ever-growing Meme Mania collection and shall post them now for your Monday viewing pleasure.

Clearly I am not as deeply and incessantly depressed as I initially thought. It makes much more sense that I am surrounded by assholes, don't you think? Yeah, that's got to be it.

This macro doesn't fit me. At all. Like, ever. No way. I don't do that. I hardly ever visit Facebook when I'm supposed to be working. I am seldom surfing Tumblr when I should be doing laundry. And I'm almost never tweeting when I should be cooking dinner. No, seriously. I'm not.

Stop judging me.

I don't get it. What does the mushroom look like? Let me think on this a bit. I'm feigning ignorance just for the heck of it. It's Monday, after all. My brain isn't even firing on all four cylinders yet.

I need coffee.

Always Be Batman

First post of October. Seems appropriate that I share some deep thoughts, brought to you by the caped crusader in the form of this meme.

Sage advice from a man dressed as a flying rodent.

No, seriously.

Chili Casserole Recipe

It's been quite awhile since I posted a recipe for Tasty Tuesday, but then it's been awhile since I've tried any new recipes too. This Chili Casserole one is really good, so hopefully it makes up for the gap in my recipe posts--because I'm sure that each and every one of you are not always anxiously awaiting my  next culinary creation.

Ingredients

1 lb. Ground Turkey (I always use ground turkey, but you can use beef, of course)
1 medium Onion, diced
2 cans Diced Tomatoes
3 cans of your favorite Chili
3 cups shredded Cheddar Cheese
16 ounces Sour Cream
16 ounces small Pasta Shells (or your favorite pasta), cooked

Directions

In a large pot, brown your Onion and Ground Turkey until the turkey is fully cooked. Add the Diced Tomatoes and simmer until heated through.

Add in your Chili, Cheddar Cheese, and Sour Cream, and stir well. Reduce heat and simmer for 10-15 minutes. Then add the Pasta Shells and mix well. Pour into a large oblong casserole dish.

Bake uncovered at 350° for 25-30 minutes. You can add a little extra cheese on top after cooking for a bit of extra color.

The Hubs and I both liked this. I'm all about casseroles anyway, so it doesn't take much to make me happy in that regard. But if the Hubs likes it, then I know I've done something right. Hope you like it!

Hijacking Elmo DVD's is Just Wrong

I really need someone to explain this to me. I'm so confused and annoyed by it, I'm almost speechless. And that doesn't happen often, as you well know. So here's the scoop...

I have a granddaughter, Destiny, who is not quite 2. Destiny loves Elmo. And Destiny loves Elmo DVD's. So every time I'm babysitting, we watch Elmo. Over, and over, and over. But even though I personally wouldn't watch Elmo if I were by myself [no, seriously], the repeated watching of said Elmo DVD's is not what's annoying me.

What IS annoying me is the way my DVD controls get hijacked at the beginning of some Elmo videos, so that I can't fast forward through the stupid FBI piracy warnings and other pointless previews, in order to get to the main menu and push Start. WTH is up with that, man? Why must my not-quite-two-year-old granddaughter be forced to wait for Elmo to appear? Do these people not realize how impatient a not-quite-two-year-old can be?! And do they really think a not-quite-two-year-old is going to pirate their freaking Elmo video? More importantly, do they not realize that a not-quite-two-year-old CANNOT READ?!!!

I cannot be the only person in the world who fast forwards through the B.S. at the beginning of movies to get to the movie itself. Nobody wants to see that stuff. We know it's there. And we know that under penalty of law we can't legally pirate your precious video. And we also know that other movies are coming out that your previews will detail. But guess what? If I wanted to be force fed previews, I would be sitting in a movie theater where I could be posting rants via my iPhone on Facebook about all the stupid changes they're always making, while eating popcorn and Goobers, to pass the time until the previews are over. I do NOT want to see previews on a DVD. And neither does my not-quite-two-year-old granddaughter.

If this were an adult movie, I could deal with this madness. But it's an Elmo movie, people. And when Destiny is looking up at me with her sad little pouty face, saying, "Momo, Momo, Momo" (that's how she says "Elmo"), every precious second counts! I want to FF and then hit Start as quickly as possible. Like, RIGHT NOW.

Heartless bastards. They have no common sense at all.

Luckily, not all her Elmo DVD's are like this. And luckily I have enough patience to not rip the offending DVD's from the DVD player, take a hammer to them, shattering them into tiny pieces, which would result in my granddaughter's guaranteed need for years of costly therapy. Grandparents really shouldn't be the cause of their grandchildren's therapy, after all. That's their parents' job. *wink*

I think the only thing I can really do is send a message to the big meanies who manufacture these DVD's. So this is it, from Elmo, and me.

I Had Sex in High School

Disclaimer: I am in no way a proponent of having sex in high school. Nor is this post a direct or indirect admission of my own activities in high school (seriously,  Mom, just ignore this post). I am simply a die-hard FRIENDS fan, and always will be. And when I saw this meme on Tumblr recently, I just had to snag it and post it here in my Meme Mania collection.

See there, isn't that funny? And it has absolutely nothing to do with me. Or sex. In high school.

Not Quite Ghost

OK, so I still have a cold. And I'm surfing through Tumblr (yes, I have 2 more blogs on Tumblr!) in search of reasons to laugh. As they say, laughter is the best medicine, right? Didn't take long to find a reason to laugh either. And since it did kind of make me say WTF when I first saw it, I figured it would work perfectly for WTF Wednesday too.

I dare you not to laugh.

Not quite Ghost, now is it? But so funny.

I feel better already.

Pooch's Revenge

Just a cute little addition to my Meme Mania category, which is also appropriate for (Semi) Wordless Wednesday.

Some days really do go to the dogs, don't they?

Meh

First of all, I think I should get some sort of award for having my shortest blog post title ever! They give awards for stuff like that, don't they? OK, yeah, probably not. But they should. Anyhoots, it's not just coincidence that I should use that title. Heavens no. That, my dear blog readers, is exactly how I feel.

I have a cold, you see. Not a super bad one, mind you. It's the kind of cold that is just bad enough to make me cranky and sleep like crap...but not quite bad enough to give me free reign to be a bitch if I feel like it. Dammit. I don't get those free-reign-to-be-a-bitch cards too often. They're really one of the all too few perks of a truly bad cold, don'tcha know. And let's face it: if you have to be down and out with a really bad cold, you really should get free reign to be a bitch too. Just sayin.

But as I sit here blowing my  nose and trying to breathe out of a single nostril, I am typing and wondering one simple thing. [OK, I'm seldom wondering just one simple thing, but just work with me here, people.] Why is it that when I stand up I can breathe just fine? And yet when I sit down, one nostril is stage 3 plugged (on a scale of 1 to 5 in the nose-plugged category, with 5 meaning my nose might as well not exist for its lack of function), and if I lay down, my nose hits stage 5?

Seriously. I can totally understand why my nose gets fully plugged when I lay down. There's pressure and stuff, right? Makes perfect sense. But why does it start to get plugged when sitting down, but yet also fully upright? That makes no sense at all. And then standing completely up I can breathe just fine. Why? Why? And why? And how does my nose even know the difference between my sitting down or standing up? The only difference there is that my legs are not supporting my body? How the hell does my nose know that and why does it care?!

I know, I know. I'm losing it just a bit. My brain is foggy, truth be told. I tend to get that way when I have a cold. Hey, that rhymed! Do I sound like Dr. Seuss now? Is there an award for that? Well, there should be.

Where was I?

This is my reality, people. An infectious disease has taken over my body and at least part maybe all of my brain function. And I can't even blame it on the drugs, because I'm not taking any. Dammit again. No free-reign-to-be-a-bitch card. No drugs. Oh, the inhumanity of it all. It's just gotten me to the point where I can say only this:

Meh.

Goin to Wal Mart, Grab the Leash for Jr.

I know you're all excited for WTF Wednesday...or maybe even (Semi) Wordless Wednesday. In either case, I got you, bro. [Did I just say "bro?" I'm watching too much Jersey Shore.]

I never really grasped the concept of the put-your-kid-on-a-leash mentality, but even if I did, the crawling on all fours in Wal Mart is just a bit much. But his mom sure seems to be enjoying it. One has to wonder if she'll enjoy it as much when the kid cuts his hand on something on that germ-covered floor, and then mom has to kiss the boo-boo on his germ-covered hand, resulting in the whole family coming down with a stomach virus (or worse), all because that kid is wearing a leash. Smart thinking. ;)

Befuddled Blog Post

I thought I'd start September with a cleverly named blog post. I challenged myself to use a word in the title that I had not used before, and "befuddled" fit the bill, so there you go. It's a good word, no? And it aptly lends itself to my mood and should serve to set the tone for this entire post about the many Things I Don't Understand for today. So let's get right to it, shall we? Come on, don't try to mask your enthusiasm.

First, I don't understand Hoarders. Not just the show, which is a never-ending lesson in redundancy (let's face it, it's the same show every week, where only the faces and location have changed), but I mean, the hoarders themselves. I can't wrap my brain around how someone can literally amass mountains of clothes, household items, trash, animal feces, and/or other piles of poo in some form, and NOT understand that they have a slight problem. Or if they do understand, they get pissed when they have to start getting rid of their crap. Heaven forbid you throw away that empty toilet paper roll--Lord knows how much sentimental value you must have attached to that. Not trying to sound harsh, because I really do feel for those people. But I will never, ever, understand them.

Some other randomness of things I don't understand...

19 Kids and Counting. Seriously. Don't get me started.

Toddlers in movie theaters. I mean, really?

Cowlicks. OMG (and I don't wield those OMG's haphazardly!). I have one, my daughter has one, and my poor grandson has one. They both blame me, of course. But who am I supposed to blame?! They are stupid cranial annoyances with even stupider names. Cowlicks. As if it's not bad enough to deal with on my head, I have to feel like I've been licked by a cow too.

White clothing that cannot be bleached. WTH did they do to it to make it non-bleachable? And WHY?!

Why Heidi has to introduce the judges on every single episode of Project Runway. Come on, Heidi. Those of us who have watched the since the beginning know who the judges are, and the newbies really don't care.

Rubber testicles that guys hang off the back of their pickup truck. Dude, you're not fooling anyone. We know yours aren't that big, and the fact that you hang them there for all to see pretty much tells us all that you're probably coming up short in that area. Is that really the message you wanna send?

Why The Boob Lady (a.k.a. Giada, a Food Network chef), pronounces all of her food words with an Italian accent...but speaks normal English for everything else.

When Facebook friends post something that says you should post it as your status for an hour, to support some sort of "cause," and then basically infer that you're scum if you don't do it. Exactly how is my posting a paragraph of text doing anything for anyone on any day by any stretch of the imagination? And if you're my "friend," why are you trying to shame me into doing something in the first place?!

The God channel on TV. You don't get bonus points for watching it, you know.

And finally, neighbors who let their dog crap in my yard. My dog is dead, so I know he's not crapping there. So they shouldn't be surprised when I lose it at some point and start throwing all that crap back into their yard where it belongs.

Nikki and Paulo on LOST

You know, LOST was one of my all time favorite shows. Loved it. Adored It. Couldn't get enough of it. And I'm still pissed off that it's not on anymore! Luckily, there are DVD's to be had, so that I can get my little LOST fix whenever I feel like it. But there's one thing that always puzzled me about LOST. Well, I mean, aside from all the major stuff that puzzled me about LOST. Specifically, I'm talking about Nikki and Paulo. I mean seriously, WTH?

So I made this sort of Motifake poster for my Meme Mania collection. Fellow LOSTies like myself will surely get the humor. If you're not a LOST fan, it's definitely going to be LOST on YOU. Ahem. But I'm posting it because I have been re-watching the series and they popped into my head as a result.

And if you didn't watch LOST, might I suggest that you dive right in, if only to join us in appreciating the mystery of Nikki and Paulo. Who am I kidding, they're not a reason to watch the show. But if you do need a reason...one word: Sawyer.

Any questions?

My Night with Johnny Depp

I recently spent the night with Johnny Depp. In my dreams, that is. This was totally unintentional on my part, mind you. I do love Johnny Depp, but I'm not overly-obsessed with him or anything. I think he's very talented and, yes, HOT. But that's about it as far as my fandom goes. And before you get your dirty mind running amok on you, please note now that this was not a nocturnal sexual rendezvous with said celebrity (dammit!). But it was rather enjoyable to see Johnny for a little while, even if the dream was completely bizarre in every other way.

OK, so in my dream, I had moved into a new house. But it wasn't a house really. It was a trailer. A very crappy trailer. I remember noticing that the living room floor was sagging down rather sharply on one side. In the dream I stood there for a moment and made a mental note of this observation...as if it was somehow important. Sagging floor? Check.

Then I turned and walked to a nearby record player that was built into one of the walls. A record player. You know, that ancient device that would spin large discs filled with music at approximately 33rpm's. The one in my dream looked sort of like this:

 The record player had been hinged to the wall somehow, so that it could be tucked away when not in use. This sounds like something I would indeed do...if I lived in a trailer. You know, as a space-saver. Again it seemed important. Record player? Check.

So anyhoots, I put a record on the record player and music started to play. But I couldn't figure out what song it was. And as I was standing there, listening, and trying to figure out what song I was hearing, Johnny Depp walked in the front door. There were 3 other people in the room, one of whom was my husband, but the other two were faceless (clearly they were friends from the trailer park I must be living in while in the dream--though they weren't significant enough to me to have faces...and they were carrying spatulas for some reason).  Johnny smiled at the Hubs and all but ignored the two faceless friends as he walked past them. He was heading straight to me.

Johnny stopped right in front of me. I said, "Hello," but he didn't speak. He just picked up my hand and kissed it. Then he walked to the record player and started tapping his foot in time to the music. Obviously he knew the song, so I asked him what it was. But naturally, he didn't answer. Apparently sexy celebs don't need to talk in my dreams; they are there purely as eye candy. Natch. After he listened to the tune for a bit he walked over to a nearby piano. Why there's a piano there I really don't know because I don't play, and neither does anyone else I know. But Johnny does, in my dream at least, and so he did. Imagine this, if you will...

Johnny played a song on the piano...again, it was unrecognizable to me. The faceless friends just stared. The Hubs offered him some spaghetti. What else would you offer a celebrity in your dreams, after all? And I do make darn good spaghetti, if I do say so myself. He declined the spaghetti though with a simple shake of his head and finished his song. Then he got up and walked back over to me. He looked me dead in the eye, and he smiled. Oh my gawd, his smile was beautiful. And with absolutely no control over my own facial muscles at that point, in the presence of this famously fabulous and not-too-hard-on-the-eyes male being,  I smiled right back.

Then Johnny opened his mouth to say something. I was mesmerized, and waited for whatever words were going to come forth from his lips, which were a mere 12 inches (or less!) away from me. He leaned in close...closer, and then he whispered to me.

"You had me at 'Hello.'"

Cheesy but classic movie line from the hot celeb in my dream? Check.

Then I heard a microwave beeping and when I turned to look in its direction, Johnny disappeared. And then I woke up. Stupid microwave. As if it doesn't annoy me enough in my waking moments, it has to taunt me in my dreams as well. Who knows what might have happened next, if that damn microwave hadn't started beeping!

On the plus side, I learned some important things as a result of my dream-state brush with fame.

1. That a sagging living room floor might seem important in a dream, but it's really not.

2. That old record players can be tucked away into walls with the proper ingenuity and carpentry know-how.

3. And that cheesy movie lines are just as effective in dreams as they are in the movies, especially when uttered by the one and only Johnny Depp.

Who says you can't learn anything while you sleep, eh?

The Vomit Rocket

Semi-Wordless Wednesday is upon once again. I love finding new images to share for this feature. Sometimes as I'm surfing I just happen upon something that is absolutely perfect. Either it literally made me LOL. Or it made me say Ewwww. Case in point...

This photo makes me appreciate s0mething very important: that I don't ride rollercoasters! I feel so sorry for the person on the receiving end of that puke-fest. And somehow I think that the two guys behind them on the vomit rocket fared only slightly better. I'm sorry, but if someone vomited all over me like that, I would have a difficult time not punching them in the face as soon as we were back on solid ground. Gross.

Passive Aggressive Much, Tina?

There's a blog I subscribe to called Passive Aggressive Notes. It's so hilarious. They post photos of passive-aggressive notes people have written and posted online. I love reading them. But imagine my
lack ofsurprise when I wrote my own passive-aggressive note to the Hubs recently. I wish I'd taken a photo of it, but it was nearly 2am when I did it (I'm a night owl, in case you didn't know) and taking photos at that hour is not something I aspire to do too often. Go figure.

Anyhoots, the A/C had been on for over a month straight, but it was finally, FINALLY, cooling off outside. But I wanted to be sure it was cool enough for the A/C to actually get turned off and put the fan in the window. So, I headed to the front door to open it and get a feel for the temp outside. Or so I thought. But I couldn't unlock the door. Again. Our front door lock for some reason doesn't like to open in the summer. This, I might add, is something the Hubs knows and could actually fix (not for lack of nagging reminding on my part numerous times), but hasn't yet done. So after several failed attempts to open that damn door, I decided to give up and write the Hubs a note as a pleasant reminder that the lock still needs fixed. And it went a little something like this.

Please fix the lock on the front door so that I can open it, before I either take a hammer to it and fix it myself, OR before I decide to remove the hinges, and then the door, lay the door in the alley, and drive back and forth over it repeatedly with the truck. Love, Me.

Is the lock on that door fixed yet? No. But that's just a little taste of how things go with The Hubs and Me. It could be worse, right? I mean, a little passive-aggression is healthy, no?

Wardrobe Malfunction

This Semi-Wordless Wednesday post truly doesn't need many words. See for yourself.

I just love a good wardrobe malfunction, don't you? I'll give him 9.0 for the dive. And 10.0 for the ass.

Brands of Humor

I found this on Tumblr the other day and it really made me laugh out loud. OK, that's a lie. I didn't laugh out loud. But I did giggle out loud. OK, that's not exactly true either. But I did chuckle. Internally. Does that count?

There now. Didn't that tickle your funny bone?

Smurftastic Monday

How can a blog post be boring if it's got the word 'Smurftastic' in it? That's my theory anyway, and I'm sticking with it. This Monday for me is a blogging day...and multiple blogs means multiple blog post duties. But here at Tinalicious I thought I'd wax nostalgic about my weekend. That really ought to make for a Smurftastic Monday blog post, now shouldn't it?

The weekend was interesting for The Hubs and Me. We spent much of it with our grandson, Dylan, as our daughter got ready for her graduation party to celebrate her graduation from Cosmetology School. Yay! And I don't just mean that because I can now get free haircuts for life. No, seriously. But clearly that's a perk. I am not going to deny it.

Anyhoots...on Friday we took Dylan to the Asian Buffet. We occasionally spend our Date Night at the Asian Buffet. This is particularly true when Dylan joins us for Date Night, because he loves that place. The Hubs and I can only take Chinese food so often...I mean, you know, we just have to be in the mood for it. But Dylan is always in the mood for it. And he always eats the same exact things: meatballs, big giant football-shaped bread rolls, and lemon jello.

What? What's that you say? That's not Chinese food? Yeah. We know. But that's what he wants to eat at the Asian Buffet, without fail. So he eats that while we eat the real Chinese food, which we consume in quantities befitting two hogs at their Chinese trough. Isn't that what buffets are for? To be sure.

So after we stuffed ourselves on sweet and sour shrimp, fried rice, and General Tso's Chicken (who the heck General Tso is I really don't know--but his chicken is damn good), we awaited the best part of the meal: the fortune cookies. Now, I seldom eat the fortune cookie, the Hubs never does, and Dylan only occasionally does. We just want the "fortune" that's inside it, which I seldom actually consider to be fortunes because, to me, fortunes should tell you something that is going to happen. But those little paper "fortunes" don't often do that. Rather, they just say something ambiguous or metaphorical and it's supposed to be somehow profound.  But most of the time they just make me laugh, or shake my head. Still, they're fun to read, and after all, what is a meal of Chinese food without a fortune at the end of it? And my fortune was actually, amazingly, and weirdly spot on for once.

It read, "Great! You're ready for a party!"

Since my daughter's graduation party was the next day, that fortune couldn't have been more accurate. For once. So what if the other 100 or so fortunes I've gotten in my life were nowhere near accurate, or even true "fortunes" in many cases. This one was absolutely dead on. So after I reveled in the amazement for a few moments, the next thought that came to mind was that if my fortune is going to be right for like, the first time ever, why couldn't it have said this:

"Great! You're going to lose 50 pounds, gain a financial windfall that will make you debt-free and give you financial freedom for the rest of your life, and you'll finally understand all the mysteries of LOST!"

Now that would have been a great fortune! But oh well. Moving on. We took Dylan to see the Smurfs movie on Sunday. I absolutely loved the Smurfs when I was in high school. They were all the rage back in the day. And what's not to love?

They are just as cute now as they were back then. Maybe even cuter, considering the state of movie technology these days. We loved the movie too. Fun story, lots of laughs for kids and adults, and lots of cute little blue Smurfs.

And oh yeah, before we left the theater I used the restroom. Little did I know that yet another "fortune" would be waiting for me there, taped to the back of the stall door. Now I don't know who's idea it was to post these things on all of the stall doors, and I'm not sure why they would either. I mean, it's not like a person wants to linger too long on a public toilet. But then again, I guess it can't hurt to have some reading material in there either. So anyway, here's the toilet stall fortune that awaited me:

"The elevator to success is broken. You'll have to take the stairs. One step at a time."

So it was kind of profound, I'll give it that. It gave me something to think about, which is never a bad thing when you're taking care of business. And hey, it gave me something to blog about on this Smurftastic Monday.

Beach Bod

I just have one question for this week's WTF Wednesday:

How old is too old for a bikini?

Sometimes, photos really do speak for themselves.

Happy hump day, people!

ABCs of Baggy Pants

Obviously, there are many Things I Don't Understand. That's a given. But one thing that really gnaws on my nerves is baggy pants on guys. It's so annoying. These guys have what I call the ABCs: Ass Butt Crack Syndrome.

I mean, seriously. WTH?!

Baggy pants do not a fashion statement make. And surely Coco Chanel would agree.

I know I may be old. And I don't exactly keep up with the fashion trends of the day. But I mean, come on, people. What is cool about your exposed underwear? Or worse yet, in some cases, your butt crack? It's NOT cool! It's not, I tell you.  It's weird. It's sloppy. And it's ass-inine.

Let's face the fashion reality that even un-trendy old gals like myself can understand: baggy pants are S-T-U-P-I-D! They don't make you cool. They don't make you hip. And I can prove it.

Exhibit A, Elvis: Cool King (Never wore baggy pants!)

Exhibit B, James Dean: Cool Rebel (Never wore baggy pants!)

Exhibit C, Johnny-You-Wish-You-Were-This-Cool-Depp (Oozes cool even when he's a pirate and doesn't wear baggy pants!)

If that's not proof enough, answer me this, guys. Are you trying to hide something? I mean, back in the day, lots of men used to wear tight pants. And their tight pants, you know, showed stuff. And people thought it was just so tacky to just flash your jewels, so to speak. But at least we knew they had some jewels then. With baggy pants who the hell knows? So are you trying to just disguise the fact that you are, um, short-changed in the jewels department? Because honestly, that's what I think when I see baggy pants on a guy--he has to be hiding his shortcomings.

Newsflash, guys: girls like to see the shape of your ass; they don't want full view of your underwear. And they certainly don't want to walk beside a guy who is so "cool" that he has to hold up his pants while he walks. As if. 

Girls want a guy with SWAG. Not bag or sag. And if you have baggy pants on you cannot have SWAG. E-V-E-R.

Amy Winehouse's Final Curtain

I just want to say that I was never really an Amy Winehouse fan...but I did appreciate her talent. It's not shocking at all to me that she has passed away. When you live your life on a path of self-destruction, it's rare to not end up where she did. But that doesn't make it any less tragic. Or sad. I don't like to see any young person leave this earth so soon, especially when they have so much potential. But I hope her tortured soul can find some peace now.

There's a wonderful quote from Amy that I want to share, regarding Michael Jackson. I love that she was a fan.

“You know how you either grow up in a Michael Jackson house or a Prince house?” says Winehouse, whose accent reveals her north London roots. “For me it was Michael Jackson. I could never decide whether I wanted to be Michael Jackson or marry him. I don’t care what people say about him now because he’s a fucking genius. That’s it – the end! He was robbed of his childhood, which is why he surrounds himself with children. When you’re around kids you can be a little kid yourself and pretend that life is magic and you don’t have to be one of those sweaty people going to work every day. I completely see what he’s doing.”

~ Amy Winehouse.

RIP, Amy.

September 14, 1983 - July 23, 2011

Say hi to Michael for me.

My Brush with Fame

OK, I'm gonna start off by saying that I'm kind of obsessed with all things Hollywood and celebrity. It has fascinated me ever since I was a little girl. It just clicks with me, who knows why? But it does. So I'm all about the celebrity news of the day, whatever that might be. And I'm not just talking about Robert Pattinson here either, folks. ;)

I also want to preface this all by saying that as much as I'm into celeb news and such, I don't ever often get lucky enough to meet any real live celebrities. The closest I've ever really gotten to a brush with fame was when Harrison Ford flew his small plane into the local county airport in need of some slight engine repair, when a friend of the Hubs' worked there. Did I meet Harrison Ford? No, dammit!. But hey, I was within 10 miles of him, which is closer than most regular folk ever get to a star of his stature, no? So it counts.  Sort of.

So imagine my elation surprise when I heard the story about a friend of a friend, who was at an airport recently (and it's totally coincidental that this story also involves an airport--though not the same one). She was minding her business, passing the time, looking around, as anyone would when sitting in an airport. But she soon realized that she was sitting next to someone quite famous. And not just D-List-famous like Kathy Griffin, mind you. We're talking seriously big star here. And when he got up to walk away, she managed to get a picture.

Care to take a guess?

I know, I know. It's difficult to recognize him, considering he's photographed more often with his shirt off (thank you, God) than with it on. Give up? If you haven't figured it out, maybe this will help you...

Yes. That is Matthew-freaking-hot-McConaughey. Matthew. McConaughey! Why doesn't this kind of thing ever happen to me???!!! Wahhhhhh.

OK, I'll calm down. And I'll take what comfort I can in the fact that it was Matthew, and NOT Robert Pattinson. Because if I know someone, who knows someone, who sat next to Robert Pattinson in an airport, I think I'd just sort of die a little bit inside.

Still, you have to admit that Matthew is H-O-T. Even with his shirt on. And I sure wouldn't complain if he was sitting next to me in an airport. Hell, he could spill something all over me and it probably wouldn't phase me at all. That's just how I roll. Well, when I'm sitting next to a celebrity anyway.

So anyhoots, post title aside, I guess this wasn't really exactly my brush with fame. But at least I can say I know someone, who knows someone, who sat next to Matthew McConaughey at an airport one day. And that's probably as close as I'm ever gonna get.