Tag Archives: silliness

Humor

Enjoying some extra dick last night…

Found these at the grocery store…  “extra dick” pommes.

 

Once you’ve been in Germany for awhile, you start picking up German words.  In German, the word “dick” means thick.  One might refer to “extra dick” meaning something is extra thick.  Or one could describe a person as being “dick”, but actually mean they are stout or hefty.  I’m sure German people describe me as “dick”, although thankfully I am not attuned enough to what Germans say to get my feelings hurt.

In English, the word “dick” means something other than “thick”.  Although a lot of older men were called Dick back in the day and some people wear “dickies” under their shirts, nowadays English speaking people tend to use that word for its more “slangy” definition that refers to a certain private part of the male anatomy.  And so, when English speakers see something described as “extra dick”, it gets us excited.  Especially when our spouses have been gone for over two weeks.

Bill came home last night, a few days early from his latest TDY.  I was very happy to see him, and we enjoyed steaks he bought on the way in.  He was going to cook potatoes, but the ones we had were not in very good condition.  I remembered I had these “pommes” in the freezer.  Pommes is another German/European word you will learn here, whether you want to or not.  They’re in all the restaurants, especially the Greek and German ones.

I hadn’t noticed the label when I bought these the other day, but then I saw they were “extra dick”.  I enjoy “extra dick”, especially in my potatoes and my men.  I shared this picture and many of my American friends got a kick out of it.  Yes, I know it’s inappropriate and not very ladylike, but we have to take our laughs where we can find them, right?

I don’t know what Bill and I will do today.  We have had such beautiful weather the past few days, but it changed last night and is now kind of cold and cloudy again.  I’m sure Bill will want to get used to being awake during the day again.  He worked overnights the whole time he was gone.  I’m just grateful to share my life with someone that I still miss very much when he’s gone… even after sixteen years of marriage.  It’s so good to have him home.

Meanwhile, I’ll be looking for our next cruise.

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Guinness cake and Celtic tunes…

I had some tentative plans to do something today, but the weather was absolutely shitty.  It’s been dark and cloudy all day and the fine folks at Weather.com were calling for snow.  At the very least, we were assured of cold, damp, misty weather.  So, although we certainly could have ventured out to a restaurant, my husband Bill and I decided to stay in, listen to Celtic music, drink beer, and bake.

I didn’t get Bill to put on his new County Donegal kilt… but I did get a photo of our family crests…  or mine, anyway.

I am a fan of the Dublin Airport.  I’ll be back in July.

Okay… so in fairness, Bill did the baking.  But he made a cake that I made first and, I must say, he did a good job of it.  We haven’t cut into it yet, but we’ve had enough of the crumbs to know it won’t disappoint after tonight’s dinner of lobster tails and champagne.  Yes, my husband knows how to take care of his lady… or as Lyle Lovett would put it, “She’s no lady, she’s my wife…”

I really wanted to play this at my wedding.  Maybe if we make it to twenty years?

Those of you who are curious about the recipe for Guinness cake can find the recipe linked to the New York Times’ Web site.  For everyone else, here are a few pictures.

Bill readies the supplies…

For the cake and for me…

Bill models the German apron I got him for Christmas.

If our kitchen weren’t so pathetically tiny, I’d think we were on a cooking show.

Sugar… two cups worth… and other necessities for the cake.

Next, Bill heats up a cup of Guinness.

 

And blends the sugar…

Adds the cocoa powder we purchased at a chocolatier in Ribeauville, France.

The batter is about ready to blend with the chocolate and beer.

All set…

The chocolate batter is ready for the oven, where it will bake for about 45 minutes…

The finished cake, ready for cooling.  It’s rich, chocolatey, and smells heavenly.

And… the finished product.  Some people like to add a little Bailey’s to the frosting.  I did when I made it, but Bill elected not to.  I once brought this cake to a picnic and a lot of people didn’t want their kids to eat it because it had beer in it.  But it’s one cup of rather weak beer…  It’s not going to get you or your kids drunk, I promise.  On the other hand, if you don’t want to eat it, that’s okay.  More for me!

 

This is a pretty easy recipe and it can be fun to bake it, especially since it only calls for about half a beer.  The rest is for you!  I am not posting the recipe here because I don’t want any goons to come after me for copyright infringement.  But if you want the recipe and don’t want to visit the New York Times Web site, just let me know.

http://www.singsnap.com/karaoke/e/b2997e6cb

No one will listen to this, but since I’ve been drinking…

 

Happy St. Patrick’s Day, y’all!

 

 

  

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anecdotes

The bulimic elf…

Last night, Bill and I visited some new local friends who were having a cookout.  There was much fun and merriment going on… people were mingling and getting to know each other.  The socializing was lubricated somewhat with alcoholic beverages.

One gentleman in attendance last night is Irish and clearly enjoys creating and making mixed alcoholic drinks.  He created one beverage, which he named after himself.  I was sitting outside drinking a beer when a new friend offered me a taste.  Somehow, I misunderstood the name of the drink.  What she’d called it didn’t sound very appetizing to me, so I passed on trying the cocktail.

My friend persisted in her encouragement.  Again, I demurred, owing to the name of the drink, which just sounded very unpleasant to me.

She tried again and I said, “Why would I want to drink something called The Bulimic Elf?!”

That made everyone bust out laughing because that was definitely not what the drink was called…  I wonder what a graphic representation of a bulimic elf would be…  Something like this?

Does this make you want to drink?
 
Or how about this?

I have an ex boyfriend from my high school years who often told me I reminded him of an elf.  He’s an artist and used to draw depictions of me with elfin features.  If a cocktail existed that made me puke rainbows, maybe I’d be persuaded to drink it.  On the other hand, I could probably be persuaded even if no puking is involved.  I do take note of the names of things, though.

We all had a great time last night.  I’m always glad when I can hang out with friends offline.  I’m not sure what we’ll do today.  Unfortunately, I’m not really feeling like a long hike uphill.  I may just stay in and watch pornographic vomiting elves on YouTube.

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