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Thursday, October 13, 2005

Step Right Up Folks, We Have A Winna!

Hit number 30,000 goes to Todd. Yay Todd! Welcome to Home Fires. You come here often? I would link Todd, only, I don't know if Todd has a site. Todd?

Coming in one teeny tiny itty bit too soon, was long time reader, Miss Pickle who undoubtedly deserves an honorable mention. One second before her was my Mommy and my oldest nephew. Hi Mom! Hi Yoda! I love yous guys!

Sneaking by, soon after that was Drafter, who lied like a dog saying he was number 30,000. Nice try amigo but no burrito for you.

Lois waves crazy like to Truly Scrumptious! Blows a kiss to her and her brand new baby boy!

Providing Todd will e-mail his address, I will send him a grand prize, which has yet to be determined. Feel free to leave gift suggestions in the comment section.

It's crazy how this little ol' blog has grown. It began as a creative exercise and grew into this addictive little monster. Anyone want to venture a guess how long I stared at the stats on my site meter this morning?

(Lois stands and faces group) "Hi. My name is Lois Lane and I am a narcissistic blogger and a true blogging addict." (Lois feels her cheeks flush, looks at shoes, twiddles thumbs, sits back down and thinks of when she can blog again.)

You feel my pain, don't you? I knew you guys would understand. Now if only I could be sure that many people will buy my book, maybe I could come across more confident when I write a query letter to an agent. I totally suck at letter writing.

Here is a sample of my sucky ass letter: Dear sir/and/or/ma'am secret agent person, I wrote a book and stuff. And it would be cool if you would, like, ya know, read it and stuff. I don't expect to make it to Oprah, but once you read about my whacked out family, you may consider sending me to Dr. Phil or Jerry Springer. Anyhow, it's a decent book. I say fuck. A lot. People like the word fuck. Some people, even like to fuck. Some more interesting things about my book include, my ability to show off my multiple personality disorder. Wait a minute. I don't have that! Oh, yeah, I do. No, no, I don't. It's my mother who has that. Or was it me? Hmmm... at any rate, I think you will find my book a lovely addition to your home library. So, that's about it, pick me and my book. But, don't pick your nose. Okay? Boogers really make book pages sticky. Sincerely, Lois Lane

So, as you can see, I get rejected more than a pimple faced geek at a school dance.

Thankfully, there are some good and exciting mini gigs underway. I finished a sketch comedy routine the other day for a new potential client. If it takes off, I may divulge my secret identity and tell you what it is exactly because it is a biggie. I haven't shown off any of my work here because I have children and need to be cautious. Plus, none of my work is that friggin' interesting, yet.

Now back to the subject at hand, mixing food items. I had no idea how many other Frosty and fry junkies were around. I almost feel less freakish for those of you who came forward. Thanks.

My sister Angie alluded to one of my favorites in the comments yesterday. Peanut butter and bacon on rye toast. It was one of our dad's creations. I have no idea how he came up with that little artery-clogging number, but it is good stuff Maynard.

Peanut butter seemed to be a staple of our diet growing up. We had peanut butter and lettuce sandwiches, peanut butter and Frito sandwiches, peanut butter and celery, peanut butter and butter on waffles and on English muffins. Peanut butter gumbo. That's a lie. I couldn't resist.

We had sugar sandwiches with a little butter to hold the sugar on the bread. We had Marshmallow Fluff sandwiches, sometimes even with peanut butter.

I think our mom wanted to allow us to let our culinary creativity go crazy. Who knows, maybe she thought she was growing the next Julia Childs. In a way, I guess she was. Angie loves her some wine. (That rib jab was thrown in to make sure that witch is still reading. She has the attention span of a gnat.)

Congratulations to Todd!