Monday, March 16, 2009

Kimo's Wedding

I traveled to SC for the wedding of my cousin Kimo. I've waited 39 years for this wedding and I was highly pleased with the outcome. I will share my stories of binge eating and wedding cake stalking later... but is the speech I gave as her MOH. Enjoy...

Wedding Speech

Scott, I’m sure you have your reasons why you feel Kimo will be the perfect wife. What you may not know is that she has been training for quite some time. In fact, I dare say she learned all she knows from Barbie. The story goes something like this… Back in the day, Kimo and I played Barbie and Ken every weekend. We learned many valuable lessons about marriage from our Barbie experiences. For example, when they first met, Ken/Barbie had nothing but the clothes in their box. As time went on they acquired a Winnebago, a mansion and more designer clothing than they knew what to do with. If this was marriage, Kimo were sure to be the perfect wives! However, we would soon learn that the hard times are what make or break a marriage. One day we came home to find that vandals had set the Winnebago on fire. As if that wasn’t bad enough, Barbie’s Jordache coat was missing. Being young and naïve we weren’t prepared to handle such a marital crisis. So we did what any girl would do in this situation, we gave Barbie a new haircut, took her shopping and sent Ken packing. Maybe we weren’t ready for marriage just yet.

As we grew, Kimo maintained a healthy relationship with Barbie. She collected every Barbie ever made and stored them in their respective boxes. We never really worried about her until she started cooking in heels and refused to date any man who wasn’t named Ken. As you can imagine, the prospects for marriage were bleak. Then, she did what no single woman (not even Barbie) dared do…she began to build a hope chest with items she would need when she married. There were pots, pans, dishes, sheets…you name it. She refused to use any of the items in the chest until she married. While we found her enthusiasm for the future charming, we were a bit worried about “Ken” in this equation, as he had yet to surface. As time went on the hope chest followed her from Moravia, to Auburn, to Virginia, to NC…and well let’s just say it was a well traveled chest. Eventually, she gave up on finding Ken and removed items from the chest as she needed them. It started with the lasagna pan, then the wine glasses and before long she was sleeping on the sheets. It just didn’t seem like her Ken would ever find her. Kimo gave up cooking in heels and stopped making her signature dishes like homemade macaroni and lasagna. Instead guests at her table would be forced to eat things like boiled hot dogs and boxed macaroni. Kimo had given up.

Then, one day while lying by the pool, Kimo had a thought. What if her Ken was right in front of her but she didn’t know it bcs his name wasn’t Ken? It was an epiphany! Now she just had to figure out who Ken really was. A quick glance across the pool provided the following options: 3 gay men, 6 girls, 12 children and a handsome man named Scott. The girls and the gays were out and the kids were not even close to marrying age. That left Scott. Her friend Scott? Whatever. There’s no way he would be the one. They were just friends. That’s not how it happens in Kimo’s world. She has full control over these situations and there’s no possible way she wouldn’t have known that he was the one. Kimo decided to confront Scott directly, “Are you my Ken?” she said in her commanding Kimo voice. Scott was stunned and ran away for the weekend to escape the interrogation. When he returned he went directly to her home and knocked on the door. Shaking he confessed that he was in fact Ken. Scott was just his street name. Kimo was speechless for the first time in her life! She didn’t know what to say so he said it for her, “Kimo…will you be my Barbie?” She let out her signature hyperventilating “yes” in response to the question she had waited 39 years to hear. He went on to promise to never put her in a box and to play with her whenever she wanted. As was often the case in these situations, Kimo tucked and squeezed in order that she might avoid peeing her pants on the most special day of her life. Kimo and Scott…may you have a “Grand Fabulous” life together always.

Friday, March 6, 2009

Parole Violation

I ask you...if your babysitter (and her accomplice) killed your child, would you then ask them back to watch little Frankie's new sister?! Perhaps if you are Casey Anthony or Tara as it were. Poor Liz hadn't even had a chance to acclimate to her new surroundings (over the balcony and into the swamp) when Mommy dearest called and asked me to babysit Connie for the weekend! Damn! Someone alert the nominating committee for Mother of the Year...I think I found our winner! Apparently the murdering Chilean is out of town so who better to call upon than her con artist cover up pal! I mean I'm always up for a little "fishing" but I wasn't expecting an invitation so soon. I'm sure Dave aka "Frankie" was thrilled to hear that I would be in charge of he and Connie's safety for the weekend. On my torturous agenda....binge feeding (gotta stay true to the SIF), a field trip to visit Liz (gotta show um what happened to the last fish that acted up) or maybe I'll let Frankie and Connie share a bowl (gotta keep the babysitter amused). Yes, this should be interesting.

You know...the weather is suppose to be unusually warm this weekend. Maybe the fish would enjoy some time on the grill...I mean the deck. Technically the grill is on the deck so I guess I could work that angle. Or maybe they would like to swim in some lemon juice. I do so love ceviche...I mean a lemony fresh bowl. Whatever activities I plan for the fish, know this...they are in high danger of a play date with Liz! I guess you'll have to check back to see what becomes of the babysitter, the fish and their lovely mother. When I say "lovely" I'd like to wet your taste buds with a scandalous story to follow about Mommy Dearest. It involves holy water that was mistaken for lube. *Pause for sign of the cross*- stay tuned for that one!

Wednesday, March 4, 2009

Murder on the Arc...

Yes, I write about fatties and food. However, from time to time I need to expand on my conceptual greatness to include death and murder as these things also intrigue me. It's a darker side of this SIF but as we all know, dark is where the flavor lies. As you might have guessed, this "crime" involves the adopted Chilean. Perhaps I am in this situation bcs I failed to follow a Golden Fatty Rule:"Never shop hungry." Had I followed that rule I may have wound up with a German or a Russian. Why do you suppose I was drawn to Chile'? That's sounds like chili and I happen to love chili in the winter. "Fatliminal" thoughts are an ever present force in my life. Little did I know that my very own fatty issues were about to make me an accessory to murder!

One night, as I was eating my Swanson Hungryman and watching Fit TV, the Chilean came to me with a promising prospect for employment. She explained that back in her native Hagerstown, she was known as the Chilean Dog Whisperer. Often she would care for 10, 20...sometimes 50 pets at once. She said it was a gift from Jesus Cristo. Who am I to argue with a reference like that? *Pause for the sign of the cross* Anywho, some local amigas had asked her to care for their animals while they were away. I was a bit concerned. There was Hannah Y Zoe Y Sage Y Puerco Y Saucey Y Dave Y Liz. In total that would make 4 dogs, 1 cat and 2 fish! What started as her first job in the Estados Unidos was quickly turning into a rebirth of the Chilean Arc! I should have listened to my insincts. They told me that something bad was to come and it would soon involve me!

Everything was going quite well with the Chilean and her Arc. She would rise before the sun, feed and potty all of animals and then head off to color little airplanes by the coast. It seemed as though her gift was genuine until the day before her amigas were to arrive home. She had been drinking a little too much "water" and asked me to drive her to the Arc so that she could feed the animals. On our last stop, we were taking care of the fish (Dave Y Liz) when I noticed a problem. Liz was floating at the top of her bowl. She had a slight gray tinge to her and I must say she didn't smell at all like a lady. Upon further observation I noticed that her lips looked like JJ from Good Times...not at all attractive. She was...dead. When I told the Chilean the bad news, she insisted that Liz was just playing dead. Apparently she liked to do that in order to confuse Dave in the next bowl. I didn't understand why they couldn't live in one bowl...something about killing each other. Well, somehow Liz was dead and it wasn't at the hands of Dave! The Chilean tried to bring her back to life. She chanted random Spanish prayers and pleaded with Dave to help. Dave just laid at the bottom of his bowl content to be alone. Then things got ugly....

Faced with Liz's death, we had to make a decision. When I say "we" I'm not sure how "I" became part of "we." I was just the driver. The one responsible for taking the Chilean to her Arc. This was my first visit with Dave and Liz. Clearly I had nothing to do with the death. Or did I? Was being there enough to imply guilt? I started to worry. The Chilean was in sort of a drunken panic. Picture laughing, frantic rambling and Dave swirling in his bowl. Something had to be done. While the Chilean put Dave back on the shelf, I knew it was time to dispose of Liz. I tried to be respectful of Liz in her death, by placing her back in her natural habitat...I threw her over the balcony, into the swamp. I knew that by disposing of Liz I was now an accessory to something. I'm not sure of the crime but whatever went on, I was now involved.

The next morning I noticed that the Chilean was missing. She left a set of keys on the coffee table along with her credit card. I called her right away to see what was going on. She said she had to go and color small planes on the coast to clear her mind. She asked me to take the credit card and purchase a new fish at Wal-mart. As soon as I had done that, I was to take the new fish to her amigas house and place it in the bowl next to Dave. I had until 5pm to make the switch or her amiga would know of the crime. I quickly jumped in the car and headed to Wally World. I ran up and down every aisle looking for fish. In a panic, I stopped the manager and asked where I could find a chubby red fish like Liz. He delivered a blow...this Wally World doesn't carry fish. Que! Now what? I guess I was feeling guilty bcs I went on to explain the crime and the cover up to him. While shocked, I saw a willingness to help me in his eyes. He told me to go to the pet store a few miles down and they should have what I needed. I didn't have time to silence him so I gave him a stern look that imlpied we were now bound by the same lies. I was hoping that would keep him quiet.

As I walked into the pet store I could feel the sweat building on my forehead. I called the Chilean to see how much I should spend on replacing Liz. Apparently she was worth no more than $10. Damn!I'm going down for $10! I looked frantically around the store for a new Liz. I stumbled upon a 20 ft Reticulated Python that stopped me dead in my tracks. I knew it to be a sign from Jesus Cristo that my actions were of the devil. Just like a car wreck, I couldn't help but stare at his nasty, shedding ass! Gross! As soon as I could pry myself from the cage, I resumed my search for Liz. I didn't want to ask for help. I had already screwed that up once. Then, I stumbled upon a zit ridden little pet store geek who was too dumb to see that I was in the process of a cover up. I asked where I could find another Liz. Turns out...she was on sale! A $6 cover up was in the works. There were blue Liz', green Liz', and then I saw her as if she was a ghost in my midst....RED LIZ! She came with her own bowl and everything. Yeah well a bowl wasn't part of the plan. Put the fish in the bag and keep the evidence! I failed to mention that waiting in my car was a bucket of warm tap water that I had prepared for the "new Liz." This was quickly going from manslaughter to murder!

I grabbed the key to the house and ran up stairs with the new fish. I took the fish from the bag and placed it in the bowl with the water from my bucket. Hmmm...I wondered if the water could be traced to me thus linking me to the crime. Oh hell...I was all over this place! I watched the new Liz swim around in her bowl, content to be out of her Ziploc bag. Dave looked at her as if to say, "I always knew Liz would come back from the dead to haunt me!" Whatever Dave. This wasn't about you. I watched the new Liz swim around the bowl with a sort of a sick satisfaction. I was quite proud of myself for finding what I believed was Liz's evil twin. After a few minutes of gloating, I called the Chilean to let her know the deal was done and with $4 to spare. She was most pleased. She kept asking me if the new Liz looked like the old one. Jes! She couldn't even remember what Liz looked like. I was irritated by that bcs...well bcs I wanted someone to revel in my keen cloning abilities! I needed to get out of there. I threw out the bag in the amigas trash can and headed home. This is why I do not make a good criminal....evidence disposal is not my strong suit.

Later that evening, the Chilean arrived home after a long day of coloring small planes on the coast. Once again she interrogated me as to the similarities between new and old Liz. I told her to relax and have some "water." We agreed that we would never speak of the switch after that day. Apparently her amiga often accused her of murder and this was the first time she was actually guilty. All we could do was wait. Then, about 9pm the phone rang. It was the amiga. I think she said something like, "This isn't my fish!" The Chilean ran into my room panicked. She said that her amiga knew this wasn't Liz bcs Liz was much fatter. I was afraid of that. You can't exactly by a fish based on weight! I was hoping the color and the fact that she was alive would be enough! The Chilean was distraught. She ran over to comfort her amiga. When she arrived she was shocked by what had taken place. Dave was smitten with the new Liz. He preferred her svelte girly figure to that of the old Liz. I think that must have been enough to make it all ok bcs there was no talk of finding the evidence in the trash can. Wheeew!

Everything is back to normal and the Chilean has since decided to right size her Arc. She hadn't bargained on Liz's death and it was all too much for her. We have since named the new Liz Connie...short for Conspiracy or maybe it was Cover up. Dave also has a new name bcs "Dave" just didn't work without Liz. We now call him Frank...short for frankly. And they all said...amen!