Pickles & Dimes

I deleted yesterday’s post, but I’m glad I posted it in the first place (even if it was for only a short time) because your comments meant a lot to me. Thank you.

Anyway, today’s topic – Thanksgiving! My aunt put me in charge of bringing a dessert, and it’s not some complicated culinary coup de grace like pumpkin cheesecake or made-from-scratch pecan pie. It’s…Jello Jigglers!

How hard can that be, right? But can you believe that I, a lifelong resident of the Midwest, have never made Jello Jigglers? (Also, can you believe that I channel an inner 14-year-old boy by always adding the phrase “Dirk Diggler” after I say “Jello Jigglers”? Yes, you probably can.)

So…Jello Jigglers (Dirk Digglers)…I know you add boiling water to the mix and then pour everything into a pan, but what kind of pan? Is a plain baking sheet not tall enough? I don’t want to end up with Jello Squares, because that’s not right and also, I can’t say “Dirk Diggler” afterwards. I bought two disposable foil pans that are about 13 x 9, so I’m hoping that does the trick.

Also, today is the last day of The Hand living with us. It’s been nice and I’ll miss all the mini heart attacks, but tomorrow it goes to live with my aunt. Let’s just say she’ll be surprised either when she goes to bed, or when she showers in the morning. Adios, Hand! I’m sure I’ll see you and your creepy, perfectly flesh-colored appendages soon!

What’s everyone doing for Thanksgiving? Are you hosting a shindig yourself, or traveling cross-country to eat turkey in front of someone else’s TV? Whatever you’re doing, I hope you have a nice holiday.

As for us, we’ll be stuffing ourselves with stuffing and eating Jello Jigglers. (Dirk Digglers!)

God, that’s got to stop.

Well, it’s that time of the day during that time of the week where I adopt the attitude of a cranky teenager. Any work requests made of me are met with drawn-out sighs and eye rolls, along with deep-suffering moans to infer the great tragedy that I have to DO EVERYTHING AROUND HERE – GOD.

I’m kidding. Kind of. Try to give me some work and see what happens!

Anyway, enjoy the latest installment of weird searches that led people to this site.

“How many dimes make up one mole”

I don’t know, but our front yard (hopefully) contains a dead mole somewhere within its bowels. And we spent approximately 356 dimes to (hopefully) accomplish this. By the way, the whole “killing moles by burying Juicy Fruit” trick? Doesn’t work. Am out 36 dimes.

“My upper lip is tingling”

This happens to me about once every 2 months. I don’t know what causes it, but I annoy Jason by making him describe play-by-play style how fat my lip is becoming.

“I hate joe buck”

Me too, mystery person…me too. If you’re considering a career change, may I suggest sports broadcasting? There appears to be a shortage of good talent, as Joe Buck is being employed to broadcast both football and baseball games. And someone thought hiring Tony Kornheiser was a good idea as well. Seriously, sports broadcasting – look into it.

“School sports torch ceremony girls pictures”
So, someone’s trying to see if I actually carried the Olympic torch, huh? Listen, if you ever do find a picture, SEND IT TO ME. Mainly so I can gloat about it.

“Crack you are empty”

And Heroin, you are running low!

“Knit patterns for dropkick murphys”

We just saw these guys in concert and there was a guy there wearing a knitted hat and a bona-fide kilt. And I silently prayed, “Please don’t let this guy crowd-surf.”

“Removes my eye with her fingernail”

They must go to my eye doctor.

“Bacon on shower walls”

Now there’s a way to get me up earlier in the mornings. Mmmm…bacon shower.

“Justin morneau lung”

Let’s see. I’m going to be naughty and perform a google search on a baseball MVP and his body part. But which player and which body part? “A-Rod’s spleen?” “Manny’s Appendix?” “Clemens’ Gall Bladder?” Oh wait, I’ve got it: “Justin Morneau Lung.”

“Slow flush toilet blue tablet”

Here’s how you fix that problem:

Step 1: Swear at toilet.
Step 2: Swear at blue tablet.
Step 3: Remove blue tablet.
Step 4: Swear at mess left by blue tablet.
Step 5: Flush.
Step 6: Repeat Step 5.
Step 7: Call husband joyously after toilet works.

Last weekend we went to Buffalo Wild Wings, my absolute favorite place in the world to eat (because I am classy). Jason suggested it, although I’m pretty sure my subtle “Y.M.C.A.” spoof – entitled “B.W.3.” – helped tip the scales in my buffalo-sauce-coated favor.

(For your information, the lyrics to “B.W.3.” go like this:)

Young man, there’s a place you can go.
I said, young man, when you’re short on your dough.
You can eat there, and I’m sure you will find
Many ways to have a good time.

It’s fun to eat at the B! W! 3!
It’s fun to eat at the B! W! 3!

(Note that each occurrence of “B! W! 3!” is accompanied by the appropriate hand gesture.)

Upon our arrival, in which I gleefully rubbed my hands together in anticipation of buffalo chips with cheese and spicy garlic wings, Jason cried out, “YES!”

And while I was enamored with the prospect of greasy, spicy poultry wings, Jason was enamored with this:

Vikings cheerleaders.

I wonder if they have a dance routine for “B.W.3.”?

I’ve always been a fan of the English language. Words and their meanings fascinate me. In my job, I enjoy correcting the common mistakes people make: ensure vs. insure; comprised vs. composed; principle vs. principal.

It’s just that sometimes I know what a word means and how it’s spelled, I just don’t know how to pronounce it.

My earliest embarrassment came during elementary school, when the teacher wrote the word “neigh” on the board. I knew what it meant, but had never heard it uttered out loud. Naturally, my teacher asked me to say it, adding, “This should be easy for you since you have a horse.”

I had no idea what she was talking about. After a few moments of uncomfortable muteness, she prodded, “What does a horse say?”

After wracking my brain, I meekly did the worst horse whinny impression known to man: “Reeee-hhhheeee-eeeee?”

Nay.

In junior high, I was in the class play. Before I got laryngitis and essentially made myself obsolete, I had to stand in for one of the other actors during a practice. They had a line that contained the word “melancholy.” Again, I knew what it meant and how to spell it, but wasn’t exactly sure how to pronounce it. Moments before I had to say the line, the actor I was replacing showed up. And when they correctly pronounced the word, I said a prayer of thanks for saving myself the embarrassment of forever being known as the girl who pronounced “melancholy” “mah-lon-CHO-lee.”

Not long after that, I got into a heated debate on the school bus with a bossy, know-it-all girl a year younger than me. We were debating the pronunciation of a very famous author’s first name. She insisted it was pronounced “Stee-ven,” while I maintained it was “Steff-en.” Thanks a lot, Mr. King.

And just recently, Jason and I debated the pronunciation of “biopic.” Yeah, I was wrong about that, too. Stupid bio-picks. (Not bi-OPics.)

I find that when I write, I tend to use words I never use in conversation. Words like “copiously” and “vehemently.” Conversely (also I word I never say), I really wish I could work the words “discombobulate” and “extrapolate” into more conversations. Especially “extrapolate.” But I can’t – because I’m not a scientist.

So tell me, are there any words you’ve been embarrassed to discover you’ve been mispronouncing? Are there any words you use only when you write and not when you talk?

Maybe I’ll create a graph of your responses in order to extrapolate some data. (Yes!)