I don't like meatloaf

My dear wife unfortunately grew up in an environment where they didn't have a lot of money and ate mostly dirt and bugs. Thus, she has a soft spot in her heart for things normal people don't think of as delicacies. Like eating bologna off of a vinyl couch, ground spam and onion sandwiches on hamburger buns, and meatloaf.

Now, I detest meatloaf. I always have. The Mrs., though, absolutely insists that I love meatloaf. She has no evidence of it, but she clings to it like a liberal clings to the belief that higher taxes creates jobs. Every damn year for the twenty years she has lived with me we have gone through the same little ritual. As soon as the weather starts cooling off in the fall, she starts thinking about meatloaf.

The Mrs.: "I love fall. Fall makes me crave meatloaf. Will you east a meatloaf if I make it?"

Me, CherkyB: "I don't like meatloaf."

The Mrs.: "You don't like your mother's meatloaf. You've never had a really good meatloaf. You've never had my meatloaf. My meatloaf is fantastic. You'll love it."

Me, CherkyB: "I've had your meatloaf. I don't like meatloaf."

Then, I have to try to choke down a horrible meatloaf. Tonight it was a new recipe that was so foul that The Childrens couldn't even eat it. It was supposed to be Ted Turner's recipe for bison meatloaf. I doubt very much Ted Turner eats anything like that.

But the most disappointing thing is that I can't convince her that I've ever tried her meatloaf. Twenty years this has been going on. Twenty years of trying meatloaf, with always this one going to be the one I'll like, and continual denial it ever happened. Sheesh.

MaxieC - Man of Wit

The fambly was soaking in the hottub a couple days ago, and The Childrens decided to tell jokes. There seems to be very little I can do about this.

MaxieC: "Knock knock"

Me, CherkyB: "Who's there?"

MaxieC: "Banana"

Me, CherkyB: "Banana who?"

MaxieC: "Knock knock"

Me, CherkyB: "Who's there?"

MaxieC: "Peach"

Me, CherkyB: "Peach who?"

MaxieC: "Peach banana pie! Bwaaaa-haaa-haa-haaa-haaa....."

Me, CherkyB: "Did you write that joke yourself?"

MaxieC: "Yup."

Me, CherkyB: "Well, don't make up any more jokes. "

MaxieC: "Why not?"

Me, CherkyB: "Because you clearly have no idea what's funny. You'd think that after all these years living with your mother you'd have developed a sense of humor. As a defense mechanism."

Democrats - They're Everywhere

Back when I was in grad school and The Not-Yet-Mrs. was living with me on account of her inability to actually earn a living with a degree in music, she convinced me not to kill spiders I found in the apartment because, "Spiders are good. They eat all the bad bugs." Spiders, however, like to have hundreds and hundreds of babies. If you implement a no-kill policy (or a no-relocate-outside-where-they-belong-policy), a couple months later you realize your entire place has been overrun with spiders.

This is what has happened with Democrats.

On Sunday, I took Max up to the Cub Scout camp for Tiger Cub Day. Tiger Cub Day could be best described as a day in which the parents stand in lines, holding places for their childrens, while the boys go off to play. If you're up in the mountains at a camp with a big pack of 1st grade boys, and the only things to play with are are piles of boulders and lots of sticks, well, it's only natural that wars are going to break out with sticks for guns and rocks for forts.

I overheard this from the mom standing in line a couple people behind me talking to her husband.

"I told him it was OK to make guns with the sticks but that he wasn't allowed to touch any of the sticks that looked like handguns."

The line we were standing in? The BB gun line.

Democrats.

They're everywhere.