Sunday was Jeremy's birthday--the big 3-4. As you can tell, he was super excited that I made him wear one of the twins' "Birthday Boy" hats from last year. Before I show you what he got for his birthday, I have to explain my reasoning.
Since we've lived in Texas for 4 years now, Jeremy is getting close to the deadline. What deadline? you ask. Well, the unofficial law requiring men to fulfill at least one (with bonus W.T. points for completing all three) of the following activities within the first five years of residence: 1) sit shirtless in a lawn chair on your front porch to chat with your neighbors before and/or after mowing your lawn--which also must be done mostly undressed 2) attend a NASCAR event with your dog and/or wife; or 3) purchase a small appliance or piece of cookware that would allow you to eat a diet consisting entirely of fried food.
So that explains why I got Jeremy his very own "Professional Deep Fryer," a gallon of peanut oil, and 4 pounds of chicken wings. Because let's face it, he only mowed our 1/2 acre lawn for one summer before deciding to hire a mowing crew, his upper body is blindingly white (I'm talking albino here), and most of our neighbors are really, really weird and are the type that continually offer entirely TMI (too much info--like detailed conversations they overheard on the phone between their teenage son and his girlfriend. Yikes.). That, and I won't let him buy a dog until the dog's poop is the only poop in or out of the house that I have to clean up. And since the twins' fascination with playing in their own feces continues with no end in sight, there is no doggy or NASCAR in our future.
And that's why I had to make the W.T. purchase to make food frying easier--plus he's been wanting to try all these recipes from the Food Network that require you to deep fry various chicken body parts wrapped in bacon, with a side of battered clogged arteries, and a triple bypass for dessert. I also got him a new sports coat to wear to work, but that's much less exciting...or fattening. And Alex made him a Lego airplane creation for his desk at work--"complete with guy" he told Jeremy.
He broke in the thing with a batch of fried chicken wings, tater tots, and breaded green beans. See his face dripping with anticipation??--oh wait, it's just dripping from the greasy fumes blasting at his head. Maddie was a bit baffled when we told her "No dessert until you go eat all of your grease first."
Our entire house smelled like a vat of steaming lard. It's been almost 24 hours and the stink is still lingering. I feel like everything I touch is slimed in a layer of peanut oil. But even I will admit those were some tasty tater tots.
P.S. I figured out how to program my mouse to have the right click functions, so I can go back to taking the right click for granted again. Life is getting easier to navigate on planet Mac. Do you think I can program it to scrub poop out of the carpet?