Puke, Strawberries, and Animals

April 10, 2006

I have a little bit of news about things that happened over the weekend, but first, I have an entertainment note.

I noticed a trend in television this week that I doubt any others will point out. In the course of one week, I have witnessed no less than three realistic-looking vomitings on scripted television shows. I can't remember which show started the trend (Lost maybe?), but it was followed by last week's episode of Huff, and then capped by a multiple Tony Soprano puking last night.

I know all of these episodes were filmed months ago, so they aren't copying each other. My theory is that someone in Hollywood came up with a device that allows the simulation of a very realistic looking puke, and successfully pitched it to a lot of TV execs. I don't really watch too many shows in a week, so if I extrapolate, I have to believe there were more than a dozen characters blowing chunks on TV last week.

Back to my weekend.

Mrs. theskinnyonbenny and I dragged my family to the Ponchatoula Strawberry Festival this weekend. It's one of those big festivals in Louisiana that you always hear about, and the weather was perfect on Saturday. Unfortunately, that didn't translate into a time that I would recommend.

My main complaint is about the music. There were three stages, and during the daytime portion of Saturday, I saw the following acts:

  • A chick on the smallest state, singing Karaoke style (that is, to a recording, with no band) bad country music.
  • On the biggest stage, an auction, where people payed around $150 for a flat of strawberries to support various charities. By contrast, we paid $16 for a flat that supports no one but the strawberry growers and sellers.
  • We finally saw a band with instruments setting up on the third stage. We walked over there just in time to see a Jon Benet Ramsey looking little girl belt out loud, bad country music songs. As this was our best choice, I actually stayed there and hated life through the entire set.
  • Walking away for a porta-potty break, I noticed a band on the auction stage playing -- you guessed it -- country music. Shit, organizers, get it together. If you have three stages, consider that someone might want to hear something -- anything else.

The good included a booth that sold strawberries that were deep fried. I also ate a couple of pretty good meat pies, which were free of strawberries, and had a strawberry daiquiri with an undetectable amount of alcohol. (Hmmm, this paragraph was supposed to list the good things, wasn't it?) I was too full for a strawberry sundae, but there was one calling to me.

On Sunday, I did a little bit of cleanup in the yard, then went for a bike ride. It honestly might have been the best weather day in the entire history of South Louisiana. I won't go on, but it was unbelievable.

When I got back from the ride, we had gotten a new kitten. Our neighbor found a couple of strays somewhere. He offered us one and kept the other. Then, to top it off, we got a new puppy yesterday evening. So, there are a lot of noisy, whiny animals around here this morning.

The new dog, who has no name yet.

Last night after dinner, we were sitting in front of the TV (between puke scenes) with some strawberry short cake. The puppy and kitten were becoming acquainted with each other on the couch with Mrs. theskinnyonbenny. There was a distraction, and the puppy somehow ended up with a nose full of Cool Whip, some of which she transferred to the cat's eyebrow.

Now, the scene of the puppy and kitten sitting side by side, oblivious to the fact that they are wearing whipped cream on their nose and eyebrow was probably the cutest damned scene that's ever existed on this planet. Unfortunately for posterity, I was too busy feeding my face to get up and take a picture. But the fact that I considered putting down my food to get the camera gives you some indication of how postcard-worthy the scene was. You can see the pictures that I did take here.

I can't tell if the little cat is a boy or girl, because he/she freaks the f--k out when I try to flip him/her over. I should be scratched to shreds by the end of this week, unless I give up, and just name it something gender neutral.