Holiday Embarrassments

Although participation has dwindled in recent attempts, I want to do this contest again.

The contest was inspired by an experience of Jack Serpentine. When watching Thanksgiving Day football, a future in-law called Philadelphia Eagles quarterback and Campbell's Chunky Soup enthusiast Donovan McNabb "a humble Negruh". Since that fateful holiday, I have solicited similar stories of holiday embarrassments.

Your relatives' comment could be casually racist, ignorant, or just plain sad. Enter the quote into the comments below, are you are eligible to win! But you'd better bring your A-game, because Shawn's grandpa is super, super, super-duper racist.

Office Decor, Part Four

The great regret of my life is failing to take a picture of the horrible cubicle that belonged to Mrs. Redacted. She had elephant figurines all over the place. It looked as dumb as she was. Alas, she was fired before I could capture the mess for posterity.

Due to some rearrangement in the building, I now walk by a cubicle that could challenge Mrs. Redacted's. And today, after weeks of forgetting my cameraphone, I snapped evidence:


Mrs. Dork has two (2) of Jeff Gordon's #24 stickers on her nameplate. Because if she only had one, you may question where her support lies. Especially if you failed to see the cutout of Jeff Gordon's NASCAR on her wall, or the magazine photo of Jeff Gordon next to that. Or the collector's towel thingy of Jeff Gordon on the other wall (not pictured), and the other NASCAR-branded thingamajigs I couldn't get a good look at without arousing suspicion.

(I decline comment on the traditional Thanksgiving welcome sign featuring a pilgrim turkey, because I like Thanksgiving, which I call T'sgiving for short.)

So I guess my question is this: are her decorations more like a coworker placing a lot of his/her college's memorabilia in his/her office, or more like my 11 year-old self tacking Will Clark and Frank Thomas posters to my bedroom wall?

Bring Me To Yikes

One thing leads to another. You know how it goes. Saturday night in the Kansas City suburbs, you have a few finger foods and some punch, then the gang moves on to the bar, and you rummage through a karaoke songbook full of odd selections, you go through the familiar motions of Chris Martin, and Jared, who used to think karaoke was "unethical", makes a suggestion of questionable merit, and you can't figure out how you're supposed to switch back-and-forth between the male and female vocal, but you're on board anyway, and before you know it there are women of questionable merit dancing to your performance and a camera is recording video.

Duets from chester reboulet on Vimeo.

I am so sorry. We are so sorry.

From Connecticut With Love

WEDNESDAY

"Hey this is alicia. And my new .#"


FRIDAY

"Hey baby what is goin on tonite?"

"It's alicia. Baby I want you so bad."

"I think that is great. However, you have the wrong number."

"Isnt this eldin?"

"Sorry, no. Good luck with everything."



**

I was very tempted to keep this communication moving forward -- maybe see what the teens find so appealing about this "sexting" thing -- but I didn't. I felt guilty depriving Alicia of her much-wanted booty call. And my girlfriend wasn't really pumped about the idea of sexting a stranger with a Connecticut area code.

Careful backing up those address books, people.

Coffee Talk

While brunching, I stated that my Kansas City Blend was the best cup of coffee I'd ever had.

Where did you enjoy the best coffee you've ever had?

The best song about coffee I've ever heard is this one.

More Bread Than A Prison Meatloaf

Here is how you don't win the order -- get a large brick of apple bread pudding (which is apparently "famous") and two sausages.

(Kim's hand shown for scale.)

Kim chose a safe eggs benedict plate, so Gav won with a spicy sausage + garlic cheese grits + eggs combo. The best grits he's ever had, he says.