Hot Dog Goodness With A Sick Sort Of Twist

I am not a cook. I can't tell a frying pan from a crock pot. But I scored BIG tonight thanks to a meal that I ate at The Iron Barley in St. Louis recently. Yum. Here's how you do it...

Split and cook your self up some good old American hot dogs...


Next butter up some open hot dog buns and then grill 'em...


Now get an appropriate scowl from your spouse ...


Ignore her skepticism and put some sliced up swiss cheese on the fried up dogs and some strawberry jam, (yes, strawberry jam) on the buns...


Stack everything where it belongs...


Add appropriate trimmings suited to your own tastes...


Feed aforementioned skeptical wife ...


Reward yourself for a job well done...


Repeat as needed.

If I Were The "House" Version Of A Pastor ...

-I would use my cane to slap at little children and then give them the children's sermon of a lifetime. They would all repent even before they knew what sin was. Their parents would scowl at me at first and then carry me out of the church on their shoulders because now their kids would never do drugs or have sex outside of marriage.

-I would use a special "Ministry X-Ray Machine" to look into peoples brains and see what they are REALLY thinking. Then I'd crack jokes about their secret sins in Sunday morning sermons. Everybody would know who I was talking about but wouldn't say it out loud because they knew I was right and that my scorn would be directed at them next.

-I would treat my staff like morons ... they are not but I would treat them that way ... and they would thank me for it later because they spontaneously realize that I am always right and my sarcastic behavior was used only to get their attention and to make them be all that they can be.

-I would come in later in the morning than everyone else. Oh. Wait. I already do that.

-I would forsake shaving and develop that 2 day growth thing so that people would think I was tougher and manlier than they are. Which I am. If "they" are all "hers."

-I would only deal with the toughest of spiritual cases where people were sure to self-destruct if I didn't ride in to their rescue. But first I would make them feel terribly guilty for being in my office. Then, after I fixed them, I'd look 50% condescendingly and 50% kindly so that they wouldn't know If I was cocky or correct.

-I would develop a "laser look" indicative of my ability to gaze directly into a persons soul reducing them to rubbery kneed individuals desperately in need of pastoral care which I would then delegate to my Associate Pastor, much to his deep gratitude. (I know what you are thinking Mike. Shut up! ;) )

-I would put a glass door on my office but keep my feet on my desk so that people would all say "he looks like he's reading the National Enquirer but he must be working or he wouldn't have a glass door on his office."

My head hurts. I'm pretty sure it's a tumor. Or a cranial tape worm. Stay tuned.

K-K-K-Katie is C-C-C-Coming!

Katie is coming! That's right, my soon-to-be "corn rowed" niece (don't ask) is coming to town this Friday and will remain until the next Wednesday. And I am SO pumped! I love Katie because she's... she's ... insane. The last time she was in town I got her addicted to Vanilla Coke. Her life has not been the same since. Life in Milwaukee maybe a vanilla existence but it isn't generally added to Coke products and so I have promised to provide her with a vanilla IV while she's here.

Kate is a student at the University of Wisconsin in Milwaukee. She's Debbie's sisters daughter. That explains a lot. She grew up wearing lederhausen (I tried to spell that 6 times so if it's wrong just get over it) and dancing to German tunes with her parents and her sister, The Amazing Teresa. I'm not sure why but I suppose it's because her last name is Voitek which is most certainly German.

Katie gave me a tour of her dorm room at UW a few years ago. It was shortly after that that I gave up cleaning all together. I figure if she can get away with it then so can I. We toured the Joan of Arc Chapel together on her campus and managed to wrangle a special tour out of the resident Joan of Arc Guru. Very cool. Surprisingly, Katie is much taller than Joan was. And yet Katie has never won a war. Such a waste.

(By the way, that's not Joan of Arc she's hugging. I think it's Bret Favre.)

I have no idea how we are are going to spend the time. We'll be sharing her with Jim and Alisha, my brother-in-law and sister-in-law. But I'm the only one who sings to her "K-K-K-Katie! Beautiful, K-K-K-Katie! You're the only G-G-G-Girl that I adore! When the M-M-M-Moon shines ... over the C-C-C-Cow shed ... I'll be waiting at the K-K-K-Kitchen door!" So I'm absolutely certain I'm her favorite. How can you beat Vanilla Coke and cow sheds? Can't be done!