Redneck Faux Pas

I have a friend who recently prepared Manwich for her family. This friend doesn’t follow directions very well so when she realized that the meat to sauce ratio didn’t look right she improvised by adding some Sweet Baby Ray’s barbecue sauce to obtain the perfect Manwich viscosity.

Her husband, being the connoisseur of redneck cuisine, by contract, was less than pleased when he tasted the altered meal. The redneck ambrosia had been tampered with! He commented that something wasn’t right and pushed his plate away. Of course upon hearing their dad’s complaining the children's taste buds followed suit and became equally disgusted with dinner.

It’s funny how we expect our children to eat everything we serve them without complaint but as soon as dad doesn’t like something mutiny is permitted at the dinner table.

My question is, “How do you ruin Manwich?” You make it more Manwichy?

She will have to make another batch. Making Manwich is hard work, especially if you forget to thaw the ground beef...

If you don’t like Manwich and you feel compelled to comment on how my friend should prepare something more appetizing I have it on good authority that my friend would tell you that you aren’t the one who has to eat it. She would even add an emoticon to express her feelings. It would look like: =P

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Small World Getting Smaller Thanks to TWITTER

Village Idiot was taken so I decided to apply for town gossip. However, these two jobs might be wearing me down.

Twitter has been referred to as “micro blogging” but what is Twitter to me? Besides a great way to stalk locals from the comfort of my computer chair, it’s a way to give this big wide world the feel of a tee-tiny small gossipy town. Twitter is turning the globe into a small medieval village.

I’ve been tweeting (venting) on Tuesdays about my trash not being picked up. This once-a-week trash service we have in this city is not working out. You miss one day and trash is backing up into the garage and puppies, kitties, and opossums are hanging out around your house.

The garbage truck drivers are so fickle. It's as if they look for any excuse not to pick up your trash.  If a cat walks by your trash can as the garbage truck drives down your street the truck keeps on going, letting the trash build up yet another week. The cat is an "obstruction" you know. A mushroom was growing too close to the trashcan so the truck drove on past. My trash cans have been ignored for three weeks. I run out to beg the driver to, “Please take my trash!” but I have become this week’s "obstruction" and the truck keeps on going.

So, I tweet my violent fantasies about dumping three week old trash on someone each Tuesday. I warn all new “followers” that I vent about no-trash-pick-up and they might want to move on and follow someone else. I don’t know why someone in Minnesota (minnesotachris) would want to “follow me” and watch me tweet (gripe) about trash service down here at the bottom of the country.

It’s all going well. I’m anonymous because it’s the world wide web. Who is going to see my tweets?

Guess who saw my tweets?  Let’s just say my trash may never get picked up NOW.

 It’s a small world getting smaller thanks to Twitter.

 (This was all a dramatization as the cat and mushroom obstructions were really cars parked in front of my trash cans. This week I’m going to watch my street and if anyone dares to park along my curb on Tuesdays I’m going to hot wire their car and drive it off into the ditch. I can’t have my trash cans ignored another week.)

 The good thing is that you can take your trash to the airport on Wednesdays.... Darn Twitter!

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