Friday, January 25, 2013

Manly Magazine Titles

So my friend and I were talking about ordering boyfriends from a magazine.  In our discussion, we started listing possible magazines to which our dream boys would subscribe:
  • Fisherman's Monthly
  • Big Rigs and Gear Shifts Annual.
  • Redneck Redbook.
  • Guns and Ammo Daily News
  • XBox Primer
  • Cargo Pants Catalog
  • Construction Workers' Guide to Traffic Cones
  • Cowboy's and Indians Weekly
  • Burgers and Fries -- A Guide to Fast Food
  • BBQers Galore
  • ATV's, Monster Trucks and Motor Bike Tips of the Trade
  • Cuttin' Fingernails with Pocketknives and Other Handy Tricks
  • Pourin' Cement Before Pourin' a Beer
  • Lasso's, Lariat's and other Accessories
  • Burping and Farts - A Guide to Manliness
  • Frats and Brats - Crushing Cans on Your Head while eating a Footlong with Chili
  • How to Say "Dude" in 88 Languages.
  • Spider Killing: A True Sport
  • Toilet Seat Stays Up
  • I Can Bench Press My Woman, Can You?
  • Tow a Duplex with Your Truck Using Duct Tape -- And other Testosteroney Tricks
  • Meat and Potatoes
  • Don't Bother Me I'm Watching the Game and other things Women should know.
  • Are You Still Talking? Cold Feet: Not Allowed Under the Covers
  • Stains And Other Things That Women Should Find Sexy
  • I Like It When You Smell Like Bacon
  • Yes Dear. I'm Listening
  • Baths are for Sissys
  • Who's Josh Groban?
  • Whiskey Cures What Ails Ya!
  • Air Guitar Purists

Monday, November 5, 2012

My Tomato Artichoke Bisque

Casey’s Tomato Artichoke Bisque

(The measurements are estimates. I have no idea how much of anything I used. Just until it looked right.)

3 tomatoes

1 head garlic

1 onion

1 c. Artichoke hearts

Salt and pepper

Olive oil

Garlic salt

1 box chicken broth

1 large can diced tomatoes

1 stick of butter

¼ - ½ c. flour

Spoonful of sugar

@2-3 c milk or cream


Bay leaf

Preheat oven to 425. Rub olive oil on baking pan. Cut and core tomatoes. Place cut pieces on pan. Cut up onions, garlic, and drained artichokes and place on pan. Drizzle with olive oil. Salt, pepper, and garlic salt to taste. Place in oven for @ 20 minutes, or until they start to caramelize.

While veggies are roasting, pour chicken broth in pot and add stick of butter. Melt butter and stir. Pour can of tomatoes, in blender and puree. Add to broth mixture. Slowly add flour, sugar, and milk while stirring constantly. Add basil and bay leaf, salt and pepper to taste.

Pour a bit of broth mixture (2+ cups) to blender and put in roasted vegetables. Puree. Pour into rest of soup. Mix until fully blended. Season to taste.

Wednesday, August 1, 2012

Stuff I've Learned about Building Relationships

It’s interesting how many times I’ve been in conversations with groups of singles and the dialogue always moves to dating, fashion, and interaction with the opposite sex.  I must say I’ve learned a lot from really random sources; observation, dating, performing onstage, people watching, script writing, logic, social situations (everywhere from dance clubs, crowded beaches, church events, clubs, etc), walking through a crowded city, and personal shopping – to name a few.  Out of all those, I’d say observation has to be the most effective way of learning about male/female relationships.  I’ll admit I’m not a professional and I’ve got several hundred flaws, but my fascination with human interaction has taught me a lot about how to be with the opposite sex.


1.       First of all, we women are nervous, self-conscious wrecks and we personalize everything.  Remember that. 

2.       Because of #1, we need you to be confident. You may be agitated and nervous because you’re on a date with your dream girl.  But when you sit uncomfortably at the table worried about your breath, avoiding eye contact because she makes you sweat, folding your arms because you don’t know what to do with them while you worry about pit stains, and constantly shifting because all of the sudden your arms and legs feel like giant logs weighing you down; all she’s going to think is “Omigosh.  He’s uncomfortable.  It must be with me.  He hates this date.  He’ll never ask me out again. He’s going to tell all of mankind that I suck and I’ll never date again.  I might as well become a miner and never leave the mine.”

o   If you’re not confident, fake it.  Open up your arms instead of folding them.  Drape one over the back of the seat if you’re up to it. When you fake confidence, she’ll start to believe you.  When she starts to believe you, you’ll start to believe you. Strangely enough, that leads to confidence, even if it’s just a little bit.

3.       Eye contact.  We love it.  We ladies are very aware that we have additional anatomy that is probably more compelling on occasion, but when you focus on that and not on our faces when we’re talking, we feel like objects instead of people.  Don’t get me wrong, we’re glad you appreciate all of our womanliness – in fact we’ve probably spent anywhere from 40 minutes to 3 hours of date preparation,  so we hope that you notice us at some point during our time together.  But to linger too long in wrong places and you’ll lead us to believe your IQ is dropping with each passing second. Also, keeping #1 in mind, we get really self conscious.

4.       Don’t slouch.  A man looks 45 times more attractive when he carries himself well.

5.       Don’t wear free t-shirts you got at conventions.  They never fit well and make you look cheap.  I mentioned the time we spend trying to look pretty for you.  We’d love it if it looked like you were reciprocating.


1.       Don’t stop trying.  I know too many women who have adopted the “He should love me for who I am, and I shouldn’t have to try to win him over” thing.  True to a point, sure. We don’t want you pretending to be something you’re not. But c’mon… What man is seriously going to look at a grown woman sporting a denim jumper with embroidered blocks across the front and think “Roar.  Now, that’s the one for me!”? You may be a school teacher, but you don’t have to dress like the second graders.  Update your freakin’ closet already.

a.       Be proud of your figure and know how to dress it.  If you don’t know, learn.  There are many styles out there that are trendy but don’t look good on everyone.  For example - I can’t wear scarves because my neck is the size of a tree trunk and the length of a Lego.  So wearing a scarf would make my head look like it was sitting contently on my square, linebacker shoulders. I know that so I don’t go there.

b.      Feel pretty. You’re freaking gorgeous but how is he going to believe it if you don’t?  Own it.  Everyone has assets.  Find yours and work on them.  Obviously, mine wouldn’t be my neck and shoulders. If you don’t know what’s pretty about you, find someone you’ll know who’ll be frank and have them go shopping or do makeup with you.

2.       Pull your shoulders back and smile.  Hunchback women do not draw men.  You have a bosom.  It’s ok if it sticks out.  Shoulders back conveys confidence.  Confidence is a sign that you consider yourself worth something.  Men will not fight for something they don’t believe is worth the battle.  If you appear that you don’t believe you’re worth the fight, why in the world would he? Smile because you know you’re worth it. He’ll believe you.

3.       Did you read that line in the above paragraph that said “Men will not fight for something they don’t believe is worth the battle.”?  True statement.  Seriously.  When you’re on a date, don’t verbal vomit.  When we verbal vomit, we tend to over inform.  Pay attention to what you’re saying so you’re not dumping info on your ex boyfriends, personal failings, or other negative garbage from your life.  Dating is not a free therapy session.  He didn’t ask you out because he’s dying to know how your boss lied to you and then hired a total jerk to take your place.  Shocking, I know.  Be pleasant.  Smile. 

4.       Be appreciative of his efforts.  Men need to be validated and encouraged.  If not, why would they continue?

I’ve got more, but that’s enough for now.  Have fun!

Thursday, May 13, 2010

My Lecture

A friend of mine was going through some old emails when she found a note from me. I don't know if this was necessarily aimed at her, but I think it's applicable to all single people, including myself. So, I thought I'd share.

What the H are you talking about!!??? Are you dying in three days? Is someone making you join a convent? Are you going under the knife to have your face altered to make you look like Quasimodo tomorrow? Is James Browne making you be his personal assistant wherein you can only sit in his room and comb his wigs for the rest of your life? Are you moving to Lilliput to be surrounded by Lilliputians? Has Professor McGonagall changed you into a newt and forgot the counter spell? Have you just acquired an acute allergic reaction to human touch and moved into a bubble? Have you developed an overwhelming desire to only surround yourself with cats?

Those are the only reasons I can see that would keep you from getting married. Now, get your sad A out of this pit of despair you’ve just dug for yourself, brush yourself off, put a smile on and keep going. If I have to do this lecture again, you’re getting hit.

Wednesday, April 28, 2010

That Voice

I don’t like being called “girlie”. Especially by other girls. Kinda makes me wanna throw something. I don’t necessarily care what it is I’m throwing, I just wanna pick up the nearest thing and chuck it. Can’t explain it, it’s up there with being touched by someone else’s feet. It’s like a weird glitch in my system.

While I’m at it, I really don’t understand that voice that female store employees use when they talk to me. You know that “Are you finding everything okay?” voice that’s so high, it’s barely audible to humans? Why do they talk like that? It’s a great voice for talking to small dogs, a commercial for sparkly lip gloss for three year olds, or maybe for an obnoxious puppet with pink yarn braided hair. Or fairies. (Not the ethereal sparkly ones from those fantasy movies from the eighties, but the cartoony ones whose wings have to flap overtime in order to keep their round, strawberry scented bodies in the air.) I digress. Back to the store employees. It’s not only the cutsie doe-eyed ones with poufy hair starting at the crown of the head, an overabundance of mascara, and the perfect size 2 butts. It’s all the female employees that work in stores that sell things that cater to women. Lotion, bras, clothes, shoes, makeup. . . We’re not safe. There are no exceptions. Even if you find a normal voiced person there, you know there’s another who’s got the high pitched little dog-lip gloss-puppet-fairy voice.

The weird thing is; I’ve heard them talk to me in that voice. “Can I help you find anything?. . . No? . . Ok, well my name is Tiffany (of course it is) if you need anything.” And then they turn around to their co-worker, Amber and talk about Jake (you know, the guy who works in Foot Locker who looks crazy hot in his referee uniform. . . Something about that striped shirt that just does it. Mmm mmm.) in a voice that’s two octaves lower. Isn’t there some sort of high pitched little dog- lip gloss – puppet fairy voice self help group? Maybe an intervention type thing?

I think I’ve got to take this into my own hands. The next time I walk into Victoria’s Secret, the Buckle, or Express and one of those girls talk to me in the high pitched little dog-lip gloss-puppet-fairy voice, I’ll answer in my best low voice I can muster. I’m not talking Kathleen Turner raspy. . . I’m talking full-on Bea Arthur. If I could get down to Harvey Fierstein, I’d hit them with that, but I don’t think I’m able to. I’ll have to work on that one.

Monday, November 23, 2009

Auctioneering is not for me.

Last weekend, I was asked to co-host a Sub for Santa-type Service auction to provide a Christmas for some local families. Of course I was going to do it, it’s a wonderful cause!
So, in preparation for the festivities, we made sure that all 300 attendees were engorging themselves on tons of food because food always puts people in the mood to spend money. We also decorated the place festively, and my co-host and I dressed up in what could either be described as prom outfits or as members of the Mormon Tabernacle Choir. He wore a suit with a red bow tie and I wore a matching red prom dress. Needless to say, he looked crazy handsome and I was. . . Festive.

We were introduced and walked out in front of the audience. There was of course the clapping and wooting from some of our friends, but for the most part, it was Steve and Casey standing in front of a crowd of 300, asking for money. The services and items to be auctioned were crazy cool. We had everything from hot air balloon rides to a full-on eye exam complete with fancy glasses up for grabs. People were excited to bid and win these pretty awesome packages. So we’re going on, making jokes and selling off the items when one of the behind-the-scene people calls my co-host to the side for a moment and I’m left alone in front of a crowd stuffing their faces with a Thanksgiving feast.

I smiled, looked out to them and asked “Would you like some hold music?” and then proceeded to sing Whitney Houston’s “I Believe the Children are Our Future”. Yeah, I know the words, don’t judge. While my co-host was ironing out some details, I was schmoozing with the front row while belting out “Show them all the beauty they possess inside! Give them a sense of pride to make it easier. . . “

It was at that point, as I was standing in front of a large crowd while wearing a red prom dress and silver stilettos, singing Whitney Houston that I asked myself “When did this become ok? When did I throw away any sense of propriety or pride for that matter and not care about what other people thought of me?” I kept singing until my co-host came back up with me and we continued the auction.

The auction was a success and many people will have a great Christmas but I still have to shake my head at myself and laugh. Who knows what people will get me to do at a New Years’ party. . . Or Fourth of July for that matter. Throw in some fireworks, and I go crazy.

Thursday, August 20, 2009


This morning, I opened the office fridge which is always a dangerous and brave feat in itself. There is always a jar of health drink, half eaten yogurts, dried carrot sticks, various and sundry spills, and a Tupperware from December toting something that has sprouted life and is heaving with a raspy breath of doom. Today provided a new surprise.

When we’re working late nights on our games, the company kindly provides us with dinners. Monday was one such evening. We were given sub sandwiches, pickles, cookies, and chips. Not all of the sandwiches were eaten that night so the large platter was covered and placed in the fridge for lunches. Yesterday, I noticed a couple sandwiches left and thought nothing of it. Today however, under the plastic lid, lie a single open hoagie roll with a shriveled tomato slice, withered lettuce leaf, and mayo. The meat and cheese were gone.

Let me paint the scenario:

One of the men paid by Disney for their impressive ability to create video games for children went into the kitchen last night. He thought to himself. “I’m hungry” and went to the fridge. “Aha!” he says to himself. “A Three day old sandwich, perfect!” He pulled out the 2 foot in diameter tray carrying the single sandwich from the fridge and opened it. He pulled out the sandwich and opted to forego the healthy vegetables and the carb-ridden roll so he carefully took out the meat and cheese. He wadded the handful of protein with one hand and shoved it into his mouth then placed the remnants back onto the tray and gingerly placed it back into the fridge. As he closed the door, he wiped his mayonnaise covered hand on his jeans and smiled to himself, pleased with his midnight snack.

Really? I thought the “Survival of the fittest” thing would’ve had him eaten by superiors a long time ago.