The Corn-bread Incident

Every fan of Calvin and Hobbes knows about the ominous references to the "Noodle Incident". Unfortunately, Bill Watterson never lets us in on the details of it, which of course is part of the splendor of the incident. I, myself, have a few incidents. My favorite one is the "Corn-bread Incident." Thus, I feel the need to take it upon myself to enlighten the world on the highlight of the winter of ott-five:

It was a chilly, dark Monday, February-ish, and the Fab Four was gathered around the table with the Chief and his spouse. I say the Fab Four because it was this team of siblings that, when assembled correctly and in the right phase of the moon, formed the most sarcastic, snide dinners in Hansen history, much to the Chief's chagrin. The Boy was a Cynical Senior, Heidi was at the top of her game, I was living out my last college year at home before I took off to Boston, so therefore always jolly and cheerful, and Leez-leez was always a great audience.

Anyway, it was Monday. And any Monday in February is Chili Day, which added more chagrinning for the Chief. In fact, the reason why the Cornbread Incident was so memorable was because of the Chief's chagrin, which kept climbing higher and higher.

So all was in place: Monday, Fab Four, chili, Chief Chagrin. Now everyone knows that chili means cornbread, which can't be served without the Chief telling the tired "cornbread r-squared" joke leading to the inevitable groans, which leads to the inevitable Kent-makes-fun-of-Dad joke, which leads to me inevitably laughing at my own joke, which leads to the inevitable Kent-laughs-at-his-own-jokes joke, all of this pretty routine at this point. I felt the team lacked the usual passion and effort, and, frankly, I was about to empty the bench and bring in some unfunny neighbors just to teach them a lesson. I mean, come on! They were really mailing it in, and something had to be done to spice things up a bit.

Meanwhile, someone had taken a singular piece from the corner of the square, glass Cornbread Pan (because Ma has never made anything else in that pan except maybe warm-up some leftover mush), and it was sitting in front of me, the spatula sitting under the next piece of cornbread, its handle resting on the side of the pan. I realized then that if I slammed my hand down on the handle, it would catapult the cornbread to who-knows-where-and-gosh-I'd-like-to-find-out. Well, this dinner was about as exciting as the dinner after we found out Brian died (What? He's not dead?), so I figured a Cornbread Catapulsion needed to be added to this dinner's fare.

Before I endeavored on this Journey of Delight, I wanted to make sure my siblings were watching, ready to applaud my hilarious actions. I asked the table if I should do it (I was going to regardless), to which I received gobs of encouragement from the Fab Four, whereas the Chief discouraged it and Ma didn't say anything, which of course means she secretly condoned it. I mean, at this point, who wouldn't want to see a piece of cornbread exploding out of the atmosphere? It was the only thing in my life worth living for!

After getting the necessary support, I made a fist and slammed the handle down to the table. The cornbread took flight, leaving a trail of crumbs in its flight path. The square, yellow projectile soared within an inch of the ceiling, narrowly missing the ceiling fan. We all sat in silence with jaws dropped, spoons full of chili dropped in disbelief as the cornbread seemed to fly in slow motion. They say that in moments like this your life flashes before your eyes. It's true.

The cornbread came back towards me but to my right by about 5 feet, so I had to make haste to preserve this delicious pastry. I dove over 2 chairs, stretched out like Eric Drage...reached out my hand, extended my fingers...CAUGHT!!! As soon as the stunt was completed, a roar of laughter came from the dinner attendees, including me, of course. I put the cornbread on my plate, honeyed it up, and put it down. Greatest moment of my life.

The Randomest of Randoms

Okay, the first sentence of Kent's last blog scared me. It scared me so much that since I first read it I've been trying to think of something I could blog about just to bump it down a bit...Unfortunately for all of you I was unable to come up with one awesome, blog-worthy topic, so I'm just writing about all the runners-up (or is it runner-ups?).

First, Kent just called me his "Pink Princess" and that disturbs me on a number of levels. Technically this is just an observation on his part because currently I am sitting here completely clothed in pink, this fact also disturbs me on a number of levels. For those of you who know me, I do not associate with pink. I just never have. My favorite color has always been blue, and pink always seems to be too "obviously" girly, whatever that may mean. I mean, obviously I'm a girl, but for some reason pink seemed to broadcast too strongly, or maybe it became trendy and that turned me off even more. Anyway, another level of disturbance stems from the "Princess" side. I apologize if this offends anyone (not really), but I think it's creepy when any female over the age of 8 refers to herself, and expects others to refer to her, as "Princess." Okay, sure, every girl wants to be treated like a princess (I prefer Queen-Bee), but there is no need to pretend you are of royal birth. It's just wrong...so stop it.

Secondly, and I think this is a good segue from the "First," I think the date of Kent's birthday explains a lot. My little charmer was born on Valentine's Day, February 14th. Now, he offers me my own "Mellintine's Day" (thanks JoEllen) if you reference below, so we can solely celebrate his birthday once the 14th rolls around. However, he still gave me a Valentine on February 14th, and wanted to know why he only got a birthday card from me. I figured the heart-shaped pancakes I made him for breakfast would cover that...Anyway, he had typed, which implies pre-meditation, a list of his Top 32 things he loves about me. I'm not sure why he picked 32...maybe he was aiming for 50 and ran out of ideas. And this was a list of really good reasons, in fact, I almost teared-up reading it. The whole point of this paragraph is to voice this theory: I believe that because his birthday is disguised as a romantic holiday, he is forced to live his life as a romantic disguised as a burping-sports watching-poop talking-macho man. I say this because I think there are many of you who would be surprised by his romantic notions. For those of you who require further evidence you can refer back to the whole proposal scheme that he worked out entirely on his own. Think about it.

Thirdly, I hate mass hysteria, and not for the obvious reasons, but because I hate it when people freak out for no reason at all. Let me preface this with a reminder that I live in New England. New England, where the term nor'easter has a meaning. That said, people need to calm down about snow. It's just snow, we've seen it before, we'll see it again, so just prepare yourself for that reality. This comes up because on Friday the state of Massachusetts was on the verge of a state-of-emergency because we live in a world where no one wants to be held accountable for acts of God. I should probably interject a brief bit of history: In December there was a big snow storm forecasted to hit our area, but it wasn't supposed to start until 5ish. Long story short, the snow started earlier and harder than expected and people ended up in this:

So, this past Friday another big storm was expected and sure enough, what do you know, it started snowing! Granted, it was snowing pretty hard, but not anything unmanageable, in my opinion. However, the governor issued a statement that all "non-essential staff" should go home. First, what makes you "non-essential?" Way to make government workers feel less appreciated...Anyway, soon after Kent called me to tell me his office was closing at 2pm. Corporate offices were closing early!?! And then shortly after that we received news that the University was also issuing its "Emergency Closing Policy" in effect at 1pm. I stayed at work until 5:30pm, why, you ask? Because there was NO need for me to go home early. I got home in regular time, with no issues other than having to step through a bit of snow on my way from the train station to my apartment.

Here's the theory associated with this: If everyone was able to act normally in times of snow storms, it would really limit the chaos. More people drive into the city on days when snow is expected, which to me, makes absolutely no sense. When it snows (or rains for that matter) road conditions are worse, increasing the odds of delays, so why would you want to add to the number of cars creating all the traffic? Why not keep taking the public transportation like you do every other day? So, because more people are driving in, and all of these "Emergency Closing Policies" go into effect, it just pushes all of these people into their cars and onto the roads, all at the same time. Great plan. For the storm in December plows couldn't even clear the roads because of all the traffic, which then made road conditions even worse, creating more accidents, in turn adding to the delays. Do you see what I'm saying? If everyone had behaved as usual, no extra cars on the road, no leaving work early, the roads would have been plowed and maybe the drive home would have been a bit slower than usual. Seriously people, CALM DOWN.

Welcome to the randomness.

Don't let the first sentence scare you.

Have you ever been sitting in a stall in a public restroom and making quite a stink? Well, I have. Often. Mostly at work. During the particularly pungent ones I feel a little self-conscious, mostly because of the huge cracks in the stall walls, you know, the opening between the door and the corners and what-not. It drives me nuts how they can't build stalls that are more private! I know I've accidentally seen some poor sap as I've scanned for open stalls. I mean, how hard can it be to build stalls will flush corners and doors?

Which brings us to today's subject: technological innovations and the lack thereof.

20 years ago the only way to send your loved one a note was to put it in a stupid envelope, find a stamp, find their address, put it in your mailbox, put the flag up, and wait for the mailman. Now we can send IM's to each other, look up recipes on the Interwebs, etc. We have almost infinite information at our fingertips. It's great. You love it, I love it, your mom REALLY loves it.

So why are we still putting up with ancient things like the aforementioned stall? I work in a nice office building in downtown Boston, you'd think they would have decent stalls. But they don't, because NOBODY does. It's still the norm! I bet if you went back to the 50's you'd find stalls that were exactly the same. I look forward to the day when we say, "Remember the old stalls with huge cracks everybody could see through?"

Along the same lines, where are all the flying cars I was promised in all those movies like Back to the Future II? Our mode of transportation has been the same for almost a century. Horseless carriages have gotten nicer inside, but when it comes down to it, it's still 4 wheels on asphalt. When do we get to drive in the sky? When do I get to drive around in a Landspeeder like in Star Wars? We need to stop spending so much money on new roads and put it into R&D for flying cars. So let it be written.

You could say, "They're called PLANES, Kent, ya stoop!" Well, duh. But I'm talking more about the ability for everyone to quickly jump in their flying car, stomp on the gas, and be at work in 10 minutes, with plentiful parking in the air. How hard could it be?

And that's it for today's rant. Until next time!

I unheart Applebee's

You've all waited so patiently for our next post that I'm going to reward you with a post every day for the next week! But seriously, no. I'm a smidgereeno busy at work and that's when I typically write my blogs: smack-dab during the middle of the work day. I feel justified in this because I have a false sense of entitlement. If my boss is reading this: just kidding. I'm not too worried about my boss reading this because I'm a big believer in the separation of work and life. Whenever somebody at work asks me about my life, I tell them I live at 06016.2 (my cubical number) and sleep under my desk.

Because I've been so busy at work, I have been maximizing my leisure by doing absolutely nothing once I go home. I watch the tube, play some Civ and NBA Live, and sleep a lot. This leads to a sore rump after about 13 hours or so. Once the rump is sufficiently sore, I feel like I have maximized my leisure and it's time to get this ol' scrap heap moving.

This happened on Saturday. I got up early, at 6:30 am, excited for a full day of doing nothing. I got up earlier than I do on weekdays (8 am), just because I was planning on taking a ridiculously long nap that afternoon, and you can't do that if you sleep in. So I cranked up my comp and starting Civin' it up. (For those of you who don't know what Civ is, first of all: SHAME ON YOU, second of all: it's short for "Civilization", a highly-addictive computer game.)

After conquering my Aztec and Malinese rivals a few times and taking a 3 hour nap, my rump had acquired sufficient soreness to get off my duff. It was dinner time by now, around 7, so we cleaned up and headed over to this Mexican place in downtown Melrose that seemed to be popular, but we hadn't experienced it yet. Of course, 7 is NOT an ideal time to go to a popular restaurant on a Saturday night. Everybody knows you need to get there at 6 or else you're waitin'. All the tables were full and we were quoted a 25 minute wait. Since we got prime street parking right in front, we weren't about to go anywhere, so we sat in the car and waited for our pager to light up. About 25 minutes later, we checked to see how close we were, and the stupid host quoted us with ANOTHER 25 minute wait. How stupid is that? If he woulda said "50 minutes" then we would've left immediately.

So then we were stuck driving down Main Street looking for a non-pizza joint, which is next to impossible. I swear there are pizza joints out here like LDS chapels in Utah. No close restaurants seemed that tasty, so we decided to go over to Applebee's.

Now those faithful readers will remember my "Low Brow" post and they know that I like those corporate franchises because you know what you're getting into for about 10-12 bucks a plate. However, I have a disclaimer: I go to restaurants for specific dishes, not because every last one of their dishes is delicious. For example, I like Friday's because of their JD Steak and Shrimp. I like Chili's for the Molten Chocolate Cake. I like PF Chang's because of the Mongolian Beef. I like Applebee's because of the Fiesta Lime Chicken. Now some people will say that I'm not experiencing the other meals, but I find all of the aforementioned dishes exceedingly desirable. Why would you try something else when you only go to that restaurant every month or so? If you go there every week, that's different. But eating the same thing once a month is not what I call tedious.

The restaurants that I've never been to or that I didn't happen to pick a celestial meal of course are the exceptions. I go with an open mind and choose something that I think I would like. So it's not like I don't try new things, but once you've found perfection, why settle for mediocrity?

So now I need to tell you that everything else that I or Mellif has tried at Applebee's has been pretty nasty, 'cepting the molten choco dessert, which is always a hit at almost every place. So Mellif only goes there because she is such a loving wife and knows that I love the Fiesta Lime Chicken more than her.

Anyway.

So off we went to Applebee's, getting there around 8, pretty Starvelous Marvelous by now. The wait was short, only 10 minutes, so that was good. We sat down in a sizable booth and things were lookin' up. About 5 minutes went by, we were ready to order, both getting the appetizer/meal/dessert deal for 12 bucks or whatever. The waiter FINALLY shows up and he's got bloodshot eyes and he's shaking like a 5-year-old stuck outside in the snow and has to pee. We dismiss it to something that he can't help, like Parkinson's or whatever. He comes back with our drinks promptly.

Then we wait.

And wait.

And wait some more. No sign of the waiter. Where on earth was he? Some other server walked past and I stopped her, asking her where our appetizers were. She said the kitchen was way backed up and they were doing their best to catch up. Well, at least it wasn't the non-existent waiter's fault, and the moment our food comes out of the fryer it will be whisked away to our table, piping hot.

So we wait.

And wait.

And wait so more. FINALLY, somebody (not our waiter) brings our appetizers. I violently shoved a mozzarella stick in my mozzarella-stick-hole and took a bite. COLD! FREEZING! Mozzarella sticks are delicious ONLY when they are hot, cheesy, and stringy. Mel's Buffalo Strips were even colder! I ate one but they were no good. And still no waiter around to send them back to warm up. At this point, why wait for the entree? So finally I saw the waiter, flagged him down, told him how upset we were with the food and service, and told him we were going to leave without paying. He said, "Ok." He didn't try to get the manager involved or anything.

So we left in a huff, storming out of there while our neighboring tables looked at us in wonder. That's right, sister, I'm walking right out of here! Don't try to hold me back!

So we went to Burger King for some Whoppers and Fries. 5 bucks.

There was a time in my life where I was happy every time a restaurant screwed up, because that means free stuff. However, I have the earning power to afford appetizers, entrees, AND desserts at Applebee's (but only once a week). So when I go, I don't want to wait around for cold food just so I can get a free dessert. I want my food, and I want it hot, delicious, and NOW, by gum!

Anyway.

Christmas Letter 2007

In case you didn't get our Christmas letter, which you probably didn't because it got lost in the mail, not because we didn't send one to you:

1st Hansen Chapter 1

Kent falls in love with Mellif, they get married, move to Melrose and create a record. Why don't you just read it, it's only 16 verses long.

1. And it came to pass that in the 14th year in the reign of the Bushes there was a fine lass in the land, one which was called Mellif.
2. Yea, there was a tremendous uproar in the land about her, yea, because of her beauty, and, yea, because she was so awesome.
3. And it came to pass that in the land which was called Somervillihah there dwelled a man which was called Kent.
4. Kent dwelt in a tent.
5. And it came to pass that Kent did cast his eyes upon Mellif and did lust after her, yea, more than a friend.
6. And Mellif did look upon Kent and did have pity upon him, that she agreed to smooch him, yea, right smack dab on the lips.
7. And it came to pass that Kent did find that the smooch-a-roo was good, and it became delicious to him, and he desired that Mellif would spend eternity with him.
8. Mellif wept.
9. Yea, and there was a great celebration in the land and much revelry.
10. And it came to pass that they departed into the wilderness into a land called Melrose, which was north of the land called Malden, which was north of the land called Charlestown, which was north of the great land of Boston.
11. Yea, and it came to pass that they found joy in the fruits of their labours, as Kent was an IT Consultant, and Mellif was some sort of Budget Analyst at Tufts Dental School, which involves a good amount of dealing with stupid people, or so it seems from this person's perspective.
12. Wherefore, it was wisdom that they should keep a record, that future generations may learn from their trials and awesomeness.
13. And it came to pass that such a record was created from the dust of the earth, and this record was called "Mellificent Tales" and can be found at mellificenttales.blogspot.com.
14. And it came to pass that the blog was found to be very desirable and entertaining, definitely worth reading.
15. And it came to pass that Mellif and Kent remembered that it was Christmas time, and they remembered their friends and family and thought of them.
16. Wherefore, they also remembered the Savior, that He had been born to redeem all mankind, which is truly awesome.

The Day The TV Died

First, Congratulations to JoEllen and Mark for their brand new baby boy (yet to be named). We are glad Mommy and baby are both doing so well and despite what Kent says, we are super EXCITED to see some photos!

So I lied...I did make a New Year's Resolution. For this stupid Hollywood strike to end. I mean come on, NO one has a compromise by now? I can't even remember how long this ridiculous thing has been going on, but clearly the lesson to learn here is that the writers need better representation and the production companies need to just get over themselves. Seriously, how long do most other strikes last, maybe a month? The labor unions get right in there, break some necks, dust the dirt off and get out. I'm not saying I'm against fair pay and benefits, definitely not, I'm just saying, if someone doesn't get me some quality TV soon I'M going to be the one breaking necks.

To prove just how damaging this whole issue is...last Thursday Kent left me all alone while he played basketball with his boyfriends. I had a mountain (think Everest) of laundry to fold which I enjoy more when I can have some witty and humorous TV show going at the same time. Well, I flipped through the 1,000,000 channels currently available on cable and came up empty-handed. You know what I settled on? This:



I will admit that we have subscribed to a few reality TV shows, but now without all the prime time sitcoms and such even those are getting stretched a bit too thin. I guess in one of their brainstorming meetings someone working for ABC, CBS, NBC, etc thought the next best filler was hokey game shows. Have you noticed how many of those have now come out of the woodwork? That is, along with every pilot episode the networks have sitting in their archives. What is America coming to?

Here is the really sad part to all of this...I actually, sort of, enjoyed "Don't Forget the Lyrics." Before you all judge me, let me at least attempt to explain myself.

1. It's hosted by Wayne Brady. Maybe this doesn't help my case, but I think Wayne Brady is adorable AND he's funny. He was really the only reason I ever watched any episodes of "Whose Line Is It Anyway?," definitely not for Drew Carey.

2. These people are NUTS and they're not afraid to show it! These are all the people who live in karaoke bars just waiting for their big breaks. Though some of them are just plain crazy.

So, if you're like me and you're struggling to find some mindless entertainment after a long day of work, try this out. You get to experience the whole "karaoke scene" and you don't have to come home smelling like smoke. Or at least you'll get some laughs in...

To any writers, producers, network executives reading this post: Please, please, please come to a compromise soon. Otherwise the TV-starved American public will be taking to the streets...think French Revolution style!

It's like finding out that my favorite love song was written about a sandwich

We went to a chick flick on Saturday night, "27 Dresses". Ever since I got married, I've realized that chick flicks are just something that comes with the wife package. I used to kick against the pricks and try to steer clear of them at all costs, but that's just a losing battle, and I decided that if I embraced them then my life would be much happier.

So that's what I did. Now we spend our Saturdays on the couch watching chick flicks on Lifetime or Oxygen or ABC Family or whatever she can find. Well, Mellif watches them and I play Civ IV next to her, but I still know more or less what's going on in the movie. It's really a win-win because I can play my game and she can watch her movies and we can still spend time together.

Since I've seen so many in the last year, I've figured out the Chick Flick Formula. I will now give you the synopsis of a typical chick flick:

Movie starts with the Main Chick (we'll call her MC), a pretty (but not hot) and likable chick, and she's running into her fast-paced, exciting job (usually a writer for some magazine), talking with her best friend--probably Joan Cusack or a Joan Cusack-type--about MC's lack of a dating life. Of course, MC has no time for love and barely believes in love because one or both of her beloved parents died and she had a serious boyfriend who dumped her two years ago at the altar and her heart has died.

Then we cut to the Main Dude (MD), who is your Prototypical Dude That Chicks Dig, like a McDreamy or a McConnanononaughy or a DeCappuccino. He is nice to his mother, has a dog, has a non-threatening friend and usually they play an awkward game of basketball bordering on homoerotic.

Eventually they meet. Of course, MD is instantly wild about MC, but she's not having any of it. She's a big fat huge jerkstore to him, but he is persistent and eventually she agrees to a date or whatever. On the date MD shows off his impressive wit and MC starts to be charmed by him.

This is when we see the "Love Montage", with a happy-go-lucky song in the background while the couple prances around town, goes sailing, has a picnic in the park, visits the elderly, and does all those romantic things that most of us plan to eventually do but don't because it requires WAY too much effort.

Soon after the Love Montage, we know that the relationship is headed for the "Trial of Love" because we're only an hour in and how are we gonna kill the next hour if they ride into the sunset now? The Trial of Love starts when either the chick or the dude finds out something about the other that is A COMPLETE DEAL-BREAKER, NO WAY ARE WE OVERCOMING THIS AND DON'T EVEN TRY TO TALK TO ME ABOUT THIS BECAUSE I REFUSE TO LISTEN TO YOUR EXPLANATION YOU BIG FAT STINKIN JERKSTORE AND I WILL NEVER ANSWER MY PHONE SO GO AHEAD AND LEAVE 5 BILLION MESSAGES WHILE I SIT NEXT TO THE ANSWERING MACHINE WITH A PATHETIC LOOK ON MY FACE.

This is my least favorite part about the Chick Flick Formula. Not so much that something goes wrong, but the fact that the injured party absolutely refuses to talk about it, it's just over and that's that. At this point, it's so cliche and stupid, I hate this part. Why can't one of them just "have their doubts" and break up with the other? That's what always happens in real life.

The only way to overcome the Trial of Love is through some super thoughtful gift or phrase that makes the injured party remember their dead mother and how she would just want her daughter to be happy. It still takes a while for this to kick in, usually not until Joan Cusack or the Joan Cusack-type talks some sense into her friend and that's when we come to the 2nd-to-the-last-scene, which I like to call The Running Scene.

This, in my opinion, is the most essential part of the Chick Flick Formula. We all know the Running Scene, the scene where one person is on their way to the airport, or they're at the altar, or they're just sitting at home but for some reason they're in a huge rush to go find the other person and confess their true love. And then make-out. I like to make the running motion while this scene takes place just to aggravate Mel.

The last scene is the feel-good wedding scene where all the likable characters throughout the movie show up, and it's always at some super beautiful place like the beach or next to a lake or on top of a mountain and everybody's super happy and everything's picture perfect. Even the Joan Cusack-type is showing interest in the non-threatening friend of MD. Sometimes it's not a wedding scene, but it's a get-together of some sort. Same diff.

4 other essential parts of the chick flick:

1. The Raunch Beast. Usually in love with MD. She wears too much make-up, acts like a spoiled brat, has a false sense of entitlement, and is very selfish in general. Every woman in the audience wants to slap her silly. Mellif gets a look of pure hatred during these parts that would make even Satan himself shudder. If I tell Mellif I think the Raunch Beast is pretty, she is insulted to the very core and won't talk to me. I've only made this mistake a couple of times. Now even if I do think she's pretty, I pretend she's not by pointing out some unimportant superficial flaw, like "her eyes are too far apart" or "her chin is too manly".
2. The Cringe Moment. This is when MC does something awfully embarrassing, usually trying to impress the man they love. Every woman in the theater tenses up and puts their hands close to their eyes just in case they have to look away.
3. It has to be tied to NYC in some way. I'm sick of every movie being in New York, it's getting old.
4. Me asking Mellif every 5 minutes during the movie, "Is it True Love yet?"

I think my absolute favorite part of the chick flick is right when the lights come on. All the chicks are standing up with HUGE smiles on their faces, ready to believe in love and attack the nearest male and shower them with affection. This makes sitting through them more tolerable.

With that said, I can't wait for "Definitely, Maybe" to come out in a month.