Horrible, horrible things to say
A few tidbits:
- I wish I hadn’t spent $200+ dollars on “Party Pigs” for my beer because, frankly, they suck. They’re a nice a idea, because bottling beer is a huge hassle and I have a life to live, people, but unfortunately they don’t live up to the hype. They just don’t dispense beer very well. It starts out really, really foamy (like a real keg would), which I can live with, except that before the thing is even 1/2 empty it starts dispensing insanely slowly. Seriously, filling a pint glass takes so long you could time it with a calendar. The reason, as far as I can tell, is the expanding CO2 pouch inside starts blocking the spout, and there’s not a lot you can do about it aside from just taking the thing apart, which you can’t do without losing the beer (the pressure makes it go all over the place). For 40 bones a keg, I’d like to think I could get more than 2 beers out of it that weren’t absolute foam, you know? Weak.
- Charles is very fond of a TV show called “Caillou“, featuring a little whiny bald boy. It’s a pretty lame show, but Charles loves it; it’s full of crap wherein Caillou is afraid to go down the slide, but his mommy helps him, or Caillou is afraid of Santa Claus, but Santa turns out to be cool and likes Caillou’s drawing (when a real mall Santa would be half in the bag and have no time for smarmy baldies). The parents are astoundingly patient; when they ask Caillou to do something and he whines “But I don’t want to!” they commiserate and work out some kind of compromise, when any decent parent would just lightly backhand the brat and say “Just do it before I make you bleed.”
Why he’s bald is never explained, so Sarah and I have developed this enormous backstory centered on our belief that he has leukemia and they just don’t want to actually cover it. Anyway, as an example of the horrible, horrible things my wife and I can think up: Charles was watching the show, and Sarah and I were at the dining room table. I looked at the TV and noticed that Caillou’s mom looked a little thick, so I said,
“I think Caillou’s mom is pregnant.”
To which Sarah replied, “Yeah…you know they need that marrow.”
We laughed for a good 5 minutes, and then discussed whether that was going to get us into hell, or if the decision had been made years ago.
Categories: dear diary, wtf
I feel for you re the Caillou obsession. Jake could think of nothing else for almost a year. We even named our kitten Gilbert (no joke!). I know the them song by heart. Thankfully, the obsession has waned and we’ve moved on to Diego. It’s a little better.
Jess