This week I made chili. To understand the importance of this, you have to realize a couple of things. I am incapable of making a small amount of chili. Or even a large amount. I always make exactly One Pot Full. Which is sort of odd, considering I have nothing resembling a consistent recipe or process for my chili making. But it always ends up lasting about a week or two, which is good, because, like fine wine, it gets better with age. Unlike fine wine, however, it contains enough spice to make it hurt on the way out. Chili is supposed to contain chilis, by God. Fortunately, our critter has apparently come equipped with a cast iron stomach. She'll eat anything. She seems to consider spice a challenge - declaring "it's spicy!" while reaching for another spoonful. Anyway, back to the chili. The only consistent thing in my chili is the mix of meat - half ground beef, half pork sausage - the same kind you eat for breakfast (and make the gravy of biscuits & gravy with - it's not breakfast if there's no gravy!). I learned this little trick while working as a 'chef' (I use that term loosely) at Waffle House. Bert's Chili - served over hashbrowns or grits at every Waffle House around the world - consists largely of hamburger patties, sausage patties, onions, and a bag of secret Bert's secret spice blend. Along with that I sometimes add beans, tomatoes, or the random frozen what-have-you, along with whatever whole or dried chilis I have a full supply of. Whatever it takes to make exactly One Pot Full. I'm not sure why I'm reporting my chili-making here, other than it only seems to happen once every other year or so, meaning that it takes me as long to make chili as it does for NASA to send a remote controlled camcorder on wheels to Mars, so it's a Grady Event. In completely unrelated news, I've managed to fix much of the remaining bits of the 'Groove, including the comment function. I had to delete over 3,000 old comments, mostly creative spam. Along with 'Texas Holdem' and 'Casinos Online,''Fleshlight' left over 200 comments alone. But we're once again a generally family-friendly website. So comment as you feel the need.

Not that my beloved mother doesn't enjoy reading her second favorite son's musings (I'm not bitter - I'm much better looking than my brother, so I still win), but she still does those bendy-finger air quotes when she says the word "internet," so I think I'm safe. Out of idle curiousity, I broke out my math skills today. Let's say I drink six cans of Diet Coke (a.k.a. 'The Sweet Nectar of Life') a day. Let's say six, because while it sometimes only one or two, it is also sometimes more like six 2 liter bottles. Note to self: Don't try to hold a coherent conversation after that much caffienated goodness. 1 can of Diet Coke = 12 fl. oz = 0.75 pounds (yes, I know that fluid ounces and weight ounces aren't the same. What, are the International Standards of Weights & Measures Police going to come take me away, Mr. Anal? It's close enough.) 6 cans * 0.75 lbs = 4.5 lbs 4.5 lbs * 365 days = 1642.5 lbs a year 1 Ken (175 lbs) / 1642.5 = 9.4 Kens I drink almost nine and a half times my own body weight in Diet Coke a year. I am, like, totally going to live forever.

Saturday night, and it's getting on towards 8:30pm - the Official (and generally enforced) Bedtime. I wave my fingers in front of the critter's face. 'You are getting sleepy. Jedi Mind Trick. You want to go to bed.' The Critter: 'Nope. Not sleepy.' *grin* Me: ...sigh... About 10 minutes later, she wanders back into the living room and hops up onto the arm of the couch next to me. Holding her hand in front of my face and wiggling her fingers, she states: 'Daddy get me more juice. In the pink cup.' My daughter, dark lord of the Sith. I don't think I've ever been more proud...