Two in one day…whoa…



So normally I don’t post two blog posts in one day, but today is special. I ordered a new purse from Michael Kors and it was delivered today. As soon as I opened the box, I felt like I had received the wrong order.

Michael Kors

 Wait a minute. I didn’t pay for gift wrapping. Oh boy, someone else’s birthday order is here and they are going to cry and call their husband a liar for saying it was on its way. I’m going to be responsible for someone’s divorce. I can’t have this on my conscience.

Michael Kors

 Well, since it’s already on my conscience maybe I should see what they ordered. Oh hey, that looks like my purse.

Michael Kors

 That definitely looks like the purse I ordered, we’ll wait to see what verdict Lola reaches.

Michael Kors

 Mommybeast, it’s your purse. Now put me in it and carry me everywhere you go.

Michael KorsThe purse!

So, Michael Kors apparently believes that presentation is important. That’s a company philosophy I can get behind! I’ve now instructed the Hubster to purchase me another new purse for Christmas, but this time he needs to select the $5 gift wrap option. I’m interested to see how much better it is over the regular packaging.

I bet there’s perfume smells and fairy dust involved…


Should have slipped them $20 to ensure favorable results…


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You may need to refresh yourself with this post before you continue reading. Or not. Some like to live in a foggy world where nothing seems to make sense.

For those of you who have been following my taste testing series, prepare yourselves for more disappointment than you ever thought you’d get dealt in your lifetime.

I’ve carefully chosen several American products to test out against the British version. These companies are American in origin and icons to many people. So realistically, the American version sold here in the U.S. should be the most delicious, certainly better than the version we send overseas.

Well, reality is dead and the U.S. is losing these taste tests in rapid succession. Rice Krispies Treats, Oreos, and Pringles were all won by the Brits. We Americans have only managed to secure one win, Kraft Macaroni and Cheese.

Or so I thought…

I sent four boxes of the British Kraft Mac and cheese to some of my most avid readers. I asked them to do their own taste test and report their findings back to me.

Family #1 had an adult and three children under 10. The three children loved the British version and would gladly eat it every night. The adult could definitely tell the difference in taste and preferred the British version to the American.

Family #2 was an adult. She said the British version was burnt and gritty. I know exactly how she feels. That burnt taste is still with me and it’s been weeks.

Family #3 was an adult and a child under 5. The adult gave it a giant thumbs down and used the wonderfully fucked up description below to describe the British flavor to her American palate:

“Did you notice a funny/nasty smell after you added the cheese? Because I did and when I ate :( was my reaction. The cheese was awful! Like they used the cheese from some old man’s butt crack!”

And that’s where I thought we Americans were going to pull enough votes to win. Until her kid came out with his scoring of the British delight…

UK vs. US“What the heck is this and why is mom staring at me and taking pictures as I eat?!?! Is it poisoned with a vegetable?!”

Brit vs. American food (Rosco testing mac & cheese)

Giving himself that little pep talk before the first bite. “Here we go, don’t die buddy. I’m sure mom wouldn’t lace my food with anything.”

Brit vs. American food (Rosco testing mac & cheese)

“Hot damn those Brits sure know how to make a mac and cheese. Good thing I put some old man butt crack seasoning on mom’s plate. Now she’ll stay the hell away from my mac & cheese from Britain.”

Family #4 was an adult. She was actually a family member and these were her words:

“It seems a bit more creamy than our standard blue box and I think the cheese flavor is a little sharper. Tell the Brits they can relax.”

Well fuck it, if you can’t count on family to help you conquer the British, who can you count on?!!

So the final result was tallied and adults voted evenly at 2-2. It was entirely up to the children to be the tie breaker in the taste test. The British took the win 4-0.

If you’d like to buy your own box of Kraft mac and cheese from Britain, check it out here at the British Corner Shop website:

And I would like to state again that they do not pay me to give them these reviews. Frankly, I think they’d probably make me clean up my vulgar mouth if they were paying me.

Do you think Mary ever used the word no…


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Think about it. God gifts you with a pregnancy and the kid is his son, Jesus. How would you act?!?! I for one, would be hell-bent on making sure I was as nice as shit to that kid. That kid could punch me in my face and I’d still be nice about it.

Scenario with Baby Jesus:

Mary: Hi Baby Jesus, did you nap well today?

Baby Jesus: No! (punches Mary)

Mary: Oh Baby Jesus, you are so cute. Now how about we go down to the market and buy you a cute little swaddling cloth to wear? Maybe one with lambs on them since you’re such a cute, good little baby.

Scenario with Not Baby Jesus:

Mary: Hi Baby Jesus, did you nap well today?

Baby Jesus: No! (punches Mary)

Mary: What the fuck?!?! Not Baby Jesus, you are pushing mommy’s last nerve! Don’t MAKE me pull this mule over!!!

These are the scenarios I ponder in my free time. I may need more hobbies…

I just walked away…

Well! I bet you all think I finally cracked and lost the will to type. I apologize for my long absence, apparently when you set your blog to auto publish while you’re away, it doesn’t always listen to you.

Even the shank list is on the shank list. This is a sad state of affairs.

But I’m back now! I took a four-day weekend and visited with a friend who hasn’t lived here in a few years. By the end of the weekend we were being detained by base police.

And we gassed them.

It was too much and I’ll get busy writing it all down for your reading pleasure. But I may leave out some details. Like the ones that could result in subsequent issues with the people in power.

 Brit vs. American food

I tried these UK chips this week.

I don’t know what “Southern” bbq they were basing this name off of, but it definitely wasn’t Southern US. Maybe they meant Southern London style bbq. They started off with this weird baked taste and then ended with a burnt tomato taste. I couldn’t figure them out at all. But by the end of the bag, they were tasting pretty darn delicious so I guess you just have to power through the initial funky flavor. Or flavour, as they would say in the UK.

This week I will be posting the results of the mac and cheese taste test that I sent out to 3 lucky blog readers who commented on my post. When I did the taste test, I said the Americans won, which has been our only win to date. Hopefully the other tasters allow the US to hold onto their mac and cheese title.

Without it, I fear there is no hope for my future.

Catch up on the mac & cheese taste test here:

Tomorrow, all bets are off…

The title of this blog is not going to match today’s post. It was originally planned to go with another post but the Hubster had to censor me and now I’m being defiant and cranky and wishing I had more mac & cheese in life.

Hubster said I have to file my original post in the “shit you can’t say out loud until I’m safely retired from the Navy” folder on my computer. Man, that’s going to be a fun fucking time when I can unload that folder onto you poor, unsuspecting people. There is enough humor, rage, angst, contempt and tom foolery to fill the Titanic.

And now I’m going to go chant “Serenity now!” to myself and grin, while inside my rage is festering on some ice cream with sprinkles.



24 hours of Washington…



The Hubster and I had a text conversation the other day. In the quest for full honesty, I’ll tell you that we were in the same house and no one wanted to walk to the other person. I would say that we only had a text conversation in the same home due to the Hubster recovering from surgery, but it has happened even when one of us is not recuperating.

Hubster: Apparently Mom is having “a surprise” delivered to the house today sometime after 1400. It will not be FEDEX or UPS delivering. I am skeptical that whoever is making this delivery has [Navy] base access but we will see.

Me: Is it an edible arrangement? Because those look yucky to me since I don’t love fruit

Hubster: I have no idea, she wouldn’t say.


Hubster: Somehow I doubt it.

Me: Chinese?!?

Hubster: I can’t help but doubt it is a meal.

Me: Why wouldn’t she send a meal? Meals are what you send to show love. Or puppies. Puppies also show love. MAYBE SHE’S GETTING US PEUGEOT!!!

(Sidebar: Peugeot is the name I have picked out for my French bulldog that I want to own. Peugeot is the French racing company that competes in the 24 hours of Le Mans race. Lola the English Bulldog was named after the UK racing manufacturer that competes in the same race. I plan on holding the 24 Hours of Washington once I’ve gotten myself the Frenchie.)

Hubster: The time. She wouldn’t send a meal to be delivered right after lunch and hours before dinner. I’m sure it’s a puppy; a ST. Bernard puppy.

Me: YES!!! A Beethoven would be AWESOME!!! We need to go buy a custom bed, just in case. I’ll go to overstock right now and see what they have in St. Bernard size beds.

Hubster: How about we just wait and see if a ST. Bernard shows up. I will plan on sleeping with Lola while you sleep in the spare room with it until the custom bed arrives.

Me: OK, I guess if you have to rain on my parade.

Hubster: That’s what I live for.

There you have it folks. The man just raining down on my parade of puppies and sunshine. Now I’m going to go scroll through pictures of French Bulldog puppies on the internet and make Lola seethe with jealously.

It tastes like disappointment…


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It feels like Christmas morning. You get that bright blue box with the shiny blue foil wrapper that you can’t wait to open. Then you open it and take the first, blissfully delicious, bite.

And you think to yourself “why did I used to like these?!?”

But you decide to try another bite and you realize they aren’t so bad. By bite number three you are in heaven, with marshmallow clouds all around you. Then bite number four comes along and you are out of your treat.

And the aftertaste sets in.

That’s right, it RICE KRISPIES TREATS taste test day!!!

Brit vs. American Food

 Americans on the top, Brits on the bottom. How come the Brits don’t get the characters on their packaging? These are the tough questions that need answers. 

Let’s rewind a little to the start of the taste test, before my mouth had been violated by one country’s inferior product. I had to do math, actual math, to figure out the number of calories in each of these products. They were different sizes, the UK uses the metric system, and everything went wrong. But I persevered, solved the mysteries of quantum physics, and arrived at the calorie count of a 22g Rice Krispies Treat from each country.

Brit vs. American Food

Brits on the left at 93 calories, America on the right with 90 calories

Well howdy fucking doody! We chubsters in America have finally won a calorie contest!! I shall celebrate by eating a treat. Except I already ate an American treat and it was awful. See above to the start of this post. ^^^

So basically, the American treat had a funky starting bite, a funky aftertaste, and it wasn’t nearly sticky enough on my fingers. In fact, there was just a tiny trace of greasy residue on my fingers once I had finished.

Brit vs. American Food

Brits are on the left, with a funkier dark color. America is on the right.

I moved onto the Brits version of the treat. Obviously, the color difference was a little suspect. So I hesitantly bit into it and realized America is fucking me over, ONCE AGAIN, with an inferior product.

COME ON AMERICA!!!! These are our own inventions!!! How can the Brits keep kicking our asses with our own foods?!!!! There are not enough !!!!! marks in the world, to express how disappointed I am.

The British version was delicious, start to finish, and my fingers had a gooey marshmallowy mess on them at the end.

Like they should.

So I decided to hit the ingredient list to see what the hell was up. America’s treat was fewer calories so I thought we would actually do okay with this test. But it reeked of awful. And I found the only ingredient that was in the American version that wasn’t in the British version; soy lecithin. Every other ingredient was identical.

After careful internet searching, I found out that this ingredient is used in non-stick cooking spray and stops things from sticking. Sadly, we want marshmallow to stick to our fingers, forcing us to delicately lick it off at the end.

Or slobber all over our hands like the fat kids we are.

Either way, the US is screwing me over with their version of the product. Senators should be convening panels to deal with this. I want answers, and I want them now!

Smug LolaLola

And look at this smug, British bastard I have to watch gloat all over my house. Another win for her country, another loss for my fat kid soul.

P.S. I had a friend taste test these also, just in case I was delusional from a lack of sleep due to caring for the ailing Hubster. Kasey went in completely blind, didn’t know which was America and which was Britain, and she concurred. The Brits spanked the Americans, yet again. She also said she may not be able to taste test things for me any longer. She already lost her beloved Oreos whose memory will be forever tainted with the knowledge that across the ocean, another country has a better one. I may have to order her a case of Oreos and Rice Krispies Treats in order to help her forgot the horrors I have brought upon her.

P.P.S. If you would like to order your own Treats from Britain, you can do so here:

You can also shop the site to find the chocolate version.  

Maybe I should just put her in the bed…


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Lola is a puppy on a mission this week. The Daddybeast has been home in bed, recuperating from surgery. This means Lola has to stay off the bed, even though Daddybeast is lying there looking like he needs her snuggles.

Sleepy Lola

I’m the BEST snuggler!!!

Needless to say, she’s plotting my punishment since I won’t lift her up onto the bed.

Last night I caught her in the laundry room, just standing there with a “nothing to see here” face. She hates the laundry room, sees no purpose in it other than big machines that make scary noises and the place that holds her food hostage. So I chased her out of the room and closed the door behind me.

Then an hour or two later I discover Lola sitting in the corner of the man room. She’s not on the couch, not lying in front of the heater; she’s just sitting in the corner wedged between the couch and the exercise bike.

She hates the exercise bike, it also makes scary noises like the machines that clean her blankets.

Finally I get her to come out to the living room with me as I watch TV. She’s ticked off that I won’t put her in bed with Daddybeast so she just glares at me. Trying to make eye contact while Lola is this mad is like staring at the sun; uncomfortable and may lead to blindness.

Out of the corner of my eye I see her twitch from her statue position of hatred and discontent as she glares directly at me. She falls, stiff bodied, straight onto her side, legs sticking straight out as if she’s in rigor mortis.

Mommybeast promptly had a mini heart attack.


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