grossout (a contest)

my partner and his friend ate canned haggis this week. the two of them often eat really gross stuff together, like preserved duck eggs.
i go out when they're having one of their disgust-o-fests.

like i said, this week it was canned haggis. he and his friend cooked the haggis and ate it on toast. they washed it down with scotch, to make the experience more authentic.
when they opened the can, the haggis didn't smell or look much worse than canned dog food, they say. i was previously unaware that things that are unfavourably comparable to canned dog food were considered edible. i believe his exact words were 'like canned dog food, but with an organ-meat sort of tinge to it, and gelatinous'.
my partner was disappointed that it wasn't encased in a sheep's stomach. perv. he also claims to have enjoyed it. i've refused to kiss him for the past few days. i can't kiss a mouth that has eaten this:in case you're wondering, the ingredients are: water, lamb heart, oats, pork fat, lamb liver, pork, salt, flavours, and dehydrated onion.
the can advertises that the product is free of additives and preservatives. if i were trying to market a can of lamb hearts preserved in lard i wouldn't focus so much on that particular aspect. i'd be more likely to put 'at least it's not human flesh!' on it or something.

which brings me to my contest. what line would you put on the can to make canned haggis attractive to shoppers? how would you market it? is there a slogan or catchphrase that would make this putrid sludge appealing? leave your idea in the comments section. if you have an image that you would print on the label, link to it. the contest closes on valentine's day. the winner will recieve a variety of cool band-aids from my son's collection. he definitley has shrek, superman, spiderman and batman band-aids, and i think there are still some hello kitty, jesus and pirate band-aids floating around here somewhere. if the winning response is cool enough i'll probably feel the need to throw some other random, bizarre stuff into the prize envelope, too.

comment away!

dec 19th, late at night

my partner just got caught up on my blog while i sat nearby, knitting a sock for my boy. i like being around when he reads it so i can hear what parts he chuckles at and see what parts his face gets a little stony at. here's what i learned:

• he skips recipe posts
• he skims the book reviews, looking for anything that we haven't already discussed. i'm a communicator, so my written reviews have not yet sparked any further literary conversations.
• he isn't excited about being depicted to the blogosphere as a roller skater. he didn't say what he'd prefer, but i suspect that he'd rather i tell you that he has amazing ninja skills that he hones upstairs. or he's built a ramp and is becoming a pro skateboarder. or that he's taken up the electric guitar and is putting jimi hendrix to shame. whatever, dude. in my eyes you will always be a rollerskater. more specifically, this roller skater:

but maybe a little more like this:

coming to you from the upstairs bedroom

i'm naked.

for as long as i've known him, my partner has talked about how what he really wants to do with his life is... um... he's asked that i not tell anyone his hobby. so we'll call it roller skating. so, yeah. he's always felt that his true calling is to roller skate. he's read about it, thought about it, taken the odd tentative step with roller skates on... mostly he's just talked about how much he'd like to roller skate. to be honest, after the first couple years of him being all talk and no action, i started nodding and zoning out when he mentioned roller skating.

this past week he surprised me. he actually put on some skates and did it. and he did it really, really well. like a roller skating olympian. i was deeply impressed, and more than that, really excited that he'd taken the initiative and actually done something about his passion.

since then he's been obsessed, in the way that only someone who's feeling inspired can be, with roller skating. everything reminds him of it. he keeps coming up with new, great ideas related to roller skating, and he rushes off to write them down so he doesn't forget. i've never seen him like this, and i really like it.

the trouble is, he can only roller skate alone. he can't do it with the kids around or with me in the room. he works 50 or so hours a week, but it's all night shifts so he's sleeping during the day a lot of the time. this leaves me alone with the kids all night and all day, 4 or 5 days a week. i get them food, change them, entertain them, clean up after them... i might get half an hour without them in a typical day, but that's only if i cut into my sleeping time. and i don't get much sleeping time, since both kids are miserably bad sleepers.

can you see how my partner having an exciting new (time consuming, solitary) hobby is a problem?

yesterday he kept sneaking off when i wasn't paying attention. in the end the day was a lot like the ones i have when he's sleeping. i wasn't particularly impressed. then last night he informed me that he'd be staying up late roller skating, sleeping in, roller skating, and napping before work. (he works tonight)

um, hell no.

so when the kids woke up at 6 i came upstairs (he sleeps up here during the day, and lately at night, too, so he can roller skate) and sent him down to care for his children. it's almost 10 am and my stomach is rumbling. i desperately want coffee. but more than that, even, i want a break from my kids.

so i took my clothes off (he can't coerce me into doing childcare when i'm not wearing anything, right?) (plus i haven't been naked just for the fun of it in about two years. it feels good) and pulled out the laptop and will stay here until the hunger pangs force me downstairs again.

later, when the baby is napping, i'll take the boy outside to play and shovel the walk. then my partner can work on his roller skating... until the baby wakes up.

i spend enough time alone with kids. i'm not going to become a roller skating widow. grrrrr.

signing off,
that naked chick

(no, kara, this post does not have pictures)

mother's day

yesterday when my partner got home i was just barely conscious, dragging my pathetic ass around the house. he fed and changed the babes then went off to bed, since he'd been working all night. i huddled on the couch, ignoring the kids for about 4 hours, then he was up again. despite his exhaustion he let me go nap, then fed and pampered and snuggled me for the rest of the day. no flowers, breakfast in bed, or card could make me feel as loved and cherished as this.
way to go, dude. i love you.

"it's a shitty job"

the other day i was carrying the baby down the basement stairs and missed the last step. i could have dropped the baby onto the cement floor and stopped my own fall, but instead i fell and deliberately landed so the baby wouldn't get hurt. i'm not actually trying to sound all heroic, i'm just trying to explain why i'm now on crutches after falling a foot and a half. my foot hurts like someone smashed it with a sledgehammer then lit it on fire, and my baby toe is sticking out at a funny angle, but the hospital says it's not broken. no matter what's wrong with it, i can't walk on it. or bend it. or brush lightly against it. or think about it. writing this paragraph is painful.

so my partner has had to do everything around here. changing babies, making meals and coffee, helping me get to the bathroom, supervising the boy... at the moment the boy is really interested in his cornhole and his poop, so my poor man is flipping out on a regular basis. last night the baby wasn't ready to sleep until 1 am, then the boy got up at 7. my partner got freaking cranky and was stomping around crabbing at all of us. i made him come talk to me.

'relax. getting worked up over no sleep doesn't help.'
'i only got SIX HOURS of sleep! and now he's going to be up all day, doing stuff!!!'
'i do this every. single. day. the difference between how much sleep you got and how much i usually get is that i have to wake up to feed the baby a few times a night. sleeplessness is part of the job.'
'it's a shitty job'

no freaking kidding.