Saturday, March 28, 2009

Sloth seems an appropriate follow up to gluttony

We have these friends, we'll call them the Steves. Nate likes to eat and since Mel is a vegetarian, if meat is involved, even more does he like to eat. Last year Nate invited us to his house for a bbq but instead of buying burgers, he bought a steak and ground it in Mel's juicer. I could not finish this burger. Mel has not since used her juicer. For good reason.

The Steves invited us to dinner last night, along with the Bloods. Less than 2 hours from here is a casino on an Indian res, Turning Stone. Up until now my experience with casinos has involved a nearly annual trip to Laughlin, Nevada, and riding the New York New York roller coaster and eating at an outrageously expensive buffet at the Wynn casino in Vegas. And driving past Turning Stone en route to Buffalo or Syracuse or Palmyra.

The restaurant of choice was Rodizio. I had never had all you can eat meat and the idea was never appealing but I like these friends so we went. The salad bar was ok, nothing spectacular. You could tell that people don't go there for the salad bar, though the sushi was impressive (to look at for me, I don't eat it). Then the meat course started. I didn't even try half of the options but the men made up for their wives small portions. The pork with pineapple glaze was really good and the salmon was excellent. Other than that, though, it didn't knock my socks off. I believe the men all spoke highly of the skirt steak. At least it was restaurant week so the meal was 20% off.

The experience reminded me of my unmarried days when I would come home from classes and find that my boyfriend (now known as Husband) had gone to a Chinese food buffet with his friend Dan and they had each eaten themselves stupid. The idea has never appealed to me. I would make a lousy guy in this regard. And I am not macho.

On the way out we spoke of the possibility of gambling. I had some change that I would gladly throw in a slot machine and enjoy losing while inhaling more second hand smoke that I normally get (thank you New York anti indoor smoking laws). But you can't do that at Turning Stone. You have to put money on a card and then put that card into the slot machines. Sorry, but once you make it more of an effort to lose money I'm out. Instead I invested my money in cheap reservation cigs.

I think Husband is still sleeping off his meat-over. Anybody know of any home remedies for such a thing?

Friday, March 13, 2009

A Boot to the Head and Fingers to Eyes

I am not a graceful man. Ask anyone who's ever seen me dance, and they will attest to this fact (of course I'm eliminating all those people bit by bit so they best not comment on this blog post). I have the agility of a three legged elephant, the rhythm of a squirrel hopped up on crack, and the response time of a beached whale. Perhaps this is why the Wii Fit keeps asking me if I walk into walls.

This means that I need to be given a wide berth else I run into, trip, or otherwise manhandle and maim you. Sadly the love that Wife bares for me keeps her coming back into the "danger zone", or perhaps it's her adrenaline addiction. In any case this has led through the years to some incidents of what some would call "spousal abuse" but what I would call putting her eye where my elbow was.

Now I do not want to bore you with a reminiscence of the many "concussive episodes" we've had through the years but I did want to tell you about the most recent one. Perhaps in so doing I'll assuage some of the guilt that I feel.

Like many boring or elderly couples we typically go to bed with the sunset and read a few hefty tomes by candle light while listening to the wireless. Finishing our reading Wife rose on the night in quest to extinguish the illumination. Normally she quickly slides into bed after so doing. However our timing was off a bit the other night and instead of gracefully putting my arm around her to hug her good night, I eye-jabbed her three stooges style. I swear it's not my fault though, I'm just clumsy......that said it's been the couch for me every night since.

Since I can't see the Chicago River turn green this year here's a little taste of Ireland for you.

Saturday, March 07, 2009

Nobody takes my thunder without a fight

Not to be outdone by his wife, Husband had to go and roll his ankle at churchball Thursday night. He came home, iced it and made dinner so I thought all would be well and I'd still be the pitiful one. Until he woke up at 5:30 the next morning and barely made it to the medicine cabinet for pain meds. A good wife would have gotten it for him, but I was just upset that he was encroaching on my recovery time with his stupid injury. All I wanted was four days of being taken care of.

He was in such pain that I *made* him go to urgent care before work. Not broken. Take that, Husband. I'm still worse off, even with my easy recovery. The most frustrating part for me was that he hurt his ankle and still played two more games. He should have used that as an excuse to come home and take care of his poor, lonely wife.

I guess its sister-in-law's turn to be the hurt one in the house. I hope she does something exciting.