@thebiglybestestdoggie: Wanna know something funny? Momma never made those crazy kids of hers homemade ice cream… But she whipped up this special watermelon ice cream, just for me! I think she likes me. A lot.
Yum, yum! I must’ve been a very good doggie!
~Happy Tuesday, friends! Special thanks to Joan for inspiring me to treat this happy doggie to a bit of homemade ice cream!~
Actually, no.
Let’s amend that to no motorcycle yet.
Building off of last week’s anniversary blog…
Consider this a sequel of sorts.
Sadist that I am, I simply can’t have a good time without conducting myself like a glutton for punishment.
On the morning of my anniversary, I started off the day by going to work.
I got off early enough for us to still get out and do things, I reasoned, so I didn’t really need to take the day off.
So I went to work.
And I sliced a gash in my leg on the corner of a cardboard box.
I probably should’ve stayed home.
But at least I arrived home to a nice surprise.
My husband had gotten me a portable Shiatsu massager.
I put that sucker to work as soon as I yanked it out of the box.
And used it nonstop throughout that afternoon and evening.
Which led to bruising myself from prolonged use as I attempted to work out the billion tension knots in my neck.
Which hasn’t stopped me from using it every single day for the last week.
With my younger son’s help and insistence, my son…uh, I mean, husband, received a lovely video game for our anniversary.
Need for Speed Payback.
Because nothing says Happy Anniversary like a racing game.
In my defense, my child and I wandered each and every aisle at Target ten times over while hauling an overflowing hand basket.
Which was equal to the weight of a baby elephant.
Because it was loaded down with a dozen bottles of açaí Vitamin Water that my child had tossed in.
And so we kept switching off basket-carrying duties as we continued to look for the perfect anniversary gift for the good part of an hour.
Somehow, we eventually settled on a PlayStation game as the perfect present.
At least my son…I mean, husband, has been thoroughly enjoying his new game.
Anyway, we didn’t actually make it out to dinner on our anniversary.
Because we decided to stay home and watch The Martian on Netflix.
So the following evening, we ventured into a nice little Italian restaurant we’d been talking about trying for the past couple of years.
And get this:
There were actual people in this restaurant!
And our waiter was not intoxicated!
Perhaps we should have asked the guy to quickly guzzle a few beers in an attempt to replicate our horrid seven-years-prior Greek restaurant anniversary experience?
Right.
We enjoyed some fried ravioli.
And lasagna.
And homemade bread.
No greasy, slimy, rock-hard monstrosities whatsoever.
The bartender even made a little chocolate syrup heart in my chocolate martini.
It was undoubtedly one of our better anniversary dining experiences.
So that was nice, for a change.
Now, as for our first-ever motorcycle we’d been contemplating buying back?
Turns out the dealership’s asking price was much too high.
Almost as much as we had sold it for two years ago.
And so we put in a more reasonable offer.
They declined.
Typical used vehicle over-inflation nonsense.
I guess there’s only one thing left to do:
Operation Steal Back Our Bike!
We do still have one spare key.
We could easily go in and get it back.
Just pop the key in and take off like bats out of hell.
Or not.
Because then I’d have to change this post title to Dinner and Jail.
~Happy Saturday, friends! Have a great weekend!~
Well, hello again, green Ninja!
@thebiglybestestdoggie: Gotta love lazy summer days! Just lounging around with a few friends. And a bus full of Pikachus. Wonder if I can convince them to give me a ride to the park later…
~Happy Tuesday, friends! Speaking of friends, Jett is always happy to have company! Especially if it’s friends he can snuggle with. And not have to share his food with…~
Whew!
It’s been hotter than Hades lately.
But then, it seems the intense summer heat is inspiring for new beginnings.
At least, for me.
My blog anniversary was just a few days ago.
And now, it’s my anniversary anniversary.
And much like my magnetism for memorable birthdays…
There was one highly memorable anniversary that tells quite the tale.
The year was 2011.
My husband DJ and I decided to celebrate by going out for dinner.
But first…
We stopped at a motorcycle shop.
Which inevitably led to the purchase of a motorcycle.
After long day of work.
When judgment is always at its peak.
Because everybody knows that’s the best time to make big decisions.
It’s also common knowledge that just looking at something translates roughly to:
Let’s buy this thing!
Like, right now!
Because, really, when was the last time we’d gotten anything nice for ourselves?
And did I mention it was our ten year anniversary?
A big anniversary like that warranted something big.
Like a motorcycle.
Tradition dictates that year ten should be gifted with tin or aluminum.
While I’m usually not one to care overly much about traditions in the sense of gifts…
Aren’t bikes made of steel and aluminum?
Ha!
Anyway…
It was an electric green Kawasaki Ninja 650R in great shape.
I liked it.
DJ liked it.
So we signed a contract and we were on our merry way.
The funny part?
Spontaneously buying a motorcycle turned out to be the most normal part of our evening.
Celebrating in memorable ways seems to a talent for us.
(Horses, anyone?)
After buying the bike, we figured we’d enjoy a nice meal out.
And so we drove to a Greek restaurant I’d been to only once before, several years earlier.
It was way on the other side of town, so we didn’t get out that way too often.
But I remembered loving that restaurant.
It was a Saturday night.
And the parking lot was desolate.
That right there should’ve been an omen.
But that didn’t stop us from going in.
We were greeted by a host who looked like he’d had a few drinks himself.
Which was entirely probable, given the impressive bar in full view behind him.
And…
As luck would have it, our drunken host turned out to also be our drunken waiter.
There was no other sign of life whatsoever within those four walls.
No other diners.
No other waitstaff.
Nada.
Had this tipsy waiter just killed the rest of the restaurant staff?
Which would have been rather unfortunate, given the fact they prided themselves on being a family owned and operated business.
But I remembered truly enjoying a scrumptious assortment of authentic Mediterranean food in my previous trip.
So we stuck around like the sadists we apparently were.
Our waiter ambled around momentarily before producing two sad-looking menus, held together by uneven patches of tape.
Despite an authentic-looking Greece interior, nothing about this looked overly promising.
But we were hungry.
And remained cautiously optimistic.
Spoiler alert:
When the food came, it did not get any better.
With spanakopita slimier than worms, pita bread that could crack a pig’s head open, and hummus that tasted more like mud than mashed chickpeas, it bared no resemblance to my previous dining experience.
Did we save room for dessert, the stumbling drunk inquired?
Right.
It didn’t matter if it was our anniversary.
We’d already had all the fun we could handle, without gambling on dessert.
It was beyond comprehension how this restaurant had been a six-time Best Greek Restaurant winner, awarded by a local newspaper.
Incidentally, 2011 was the last year they’d won the prestigious award.
Which was the second and final time I set foot in that place.
I must’ve been really, really hungry that first time.
Or maybe things just really, really went down the toilet in the few years since I’d first gone.
I scoped out some Yelp reviews to see if we were crazy, or if it had just been an off night.
But no.
“I thought that I was part of an elaborate prop set for what would be a great tragedy. The place is certainly capable visually of transporting you to Ellada (Greek word for Greece). The place was also as barren as an off-season tourist trap near Plakka. The only two other people there seemed to be regulars.”
And this one:
“I am certain from the many posted accolades all over the walls of the place that this restaurant was indeed great. But its day has come and gone and its legendary service and cuisine is all but a page of mythology.”
But then there were a few reviews like this one:
Amazing food. Authentic and unique. The wait staff is incredibly friendly and helpful.
Unique, yes.
Incredible?
In a way, yes.
But not in any positive sense of the word.
Love the entire experience!
Seriously?!?
I mean, our experience was plenty memorable.
But definitely not in the way of loving it.
Don’t get me wrong.
I’m all for irony.
But, wow.
So on one hand, its stellar past was not a figment of my imagination.
On the other hand…
Had those few satisfied diners had their hummus spiked?
It’s uncanny.
That whole dining experience had been way, way off the mark.
Suffice it to say, the heat wasn’t the only hellish factor on that day seven years ago.
But, hey.
A cool motorcycle and a freakish dining experience.
Which, evidently, meet all my criteria for a memorable evening.
We ended up selling that motorcycle two years ago, when my husband decided to upgrade.
Yet, in an interesting twist of fate…
It’s now for sale again.
And it’s our anniversary again.
Is this a sign we ought to buy it back, for the sake of nostalgia?
Is it fate?
I guess we shall see…
~Happy Saturday! Have a fantastic weekend, everyone!~
Nothing like an anniversary motorcycle! Now let’s see if it’s meant to be… a second time.
@thebiglybestestdoggie: Optical illusion? Funny camera angle? Or am I secretly The Bigly Bestest People Eater? Oh, come on. I wouldn’t hurt a fly! It’s magic, I tell ya!
If you’ll excuse me, I think it’s naptime. Yaaaawnnn!
~Happy Tuesday, friends! Hope your week is off to a great start!~
Hooray!
Woo hoo!
Yippee!
Comically Quirky just turned three!
This particularly blogiversary is especially special.
It’s the first anniversary since The Bigly Bestest Doggie came along!
And made Comically Quirky bigger!
And better!
And even more exciting!
Thank you all for enthusiastically welcoming Jett and his doggone fun weekly feature, Tails ‘n’ Tweets.
I don’t know what I ever did without that incredible doggie.
He undoubtedly adds a certain je ne sais quoi to this blog.
Thank you for three fun-filled years of goofiness.
And laughter.
And chaos, too.
Thank you for joining us on yet another year of adventures!
We’re so very happy to know you!
~Happy weekend, friends! If you’d like to read my very first post that kicked off the insanity, please click here! Thanks again for being so awesome, and have an amazing weekend!~
Thanks for joining us! ~ Jett
@thebiglybestestdoggie: Car rides are awesome! No idea where we’re going, but beats sitting around the house all day! Sure hope we’re off to the park…and not someplace yucky, like the vet. No, no. Think positive!
~Happy Tuesday, everyone! Life is good when you just sit back and enjoy the ride!~
Turn the wheel!
Keep turning the wheel!
More!!!
And the driving instruction fun continues.
Raise your hand if you remember how to parallel park!
Aww, come on.
It’s just like riding a bike!
Really!
I mean, sort of…
As of three days ago, I still had a vague idea of how to parallel park a car.
More or less.
I hadn’t made any legitimate attempts at parallel parking since my own driving test at the age of 16.
And even then, I’d been instructed to park between two snow banks rather than actual cars.
Which is good, because I likely wouldn’t have passed if I had to wedge myself in between two real cars.
Don’t get me wrong.
I do park in parallel spaces.
But only when I can easily drive right in to them.
(Shhh!)
On particularly rough days, I struggle to park my car straight in between the lines of a parking space…
Yet, I have impressive success backing our large pickup truck into parking spaces with amazing precision.
Go figure.
At any rate, it was time to teach my teenage son the basics of parallel parking.
Because how could that be a bad idea?
And so we drove to a nearby school parking lot.
Here, let me show you how it’s done.
Uh…
Show him what, exactly?
Yikes.
Going purely on instinct rather than any delusion of certainty, I tried.
I missed.
I tried again.
This time, the car was in between the lines.
A flawless execution it was not.
But at least complete and utter mortification was avoided.
For how can one teach what they themselves cannot do?
I must not have done too horrible a job of demonstrating, as my child managed several successful attempts of his own afterward.
My boy has been taking pleasure in using every opportunity to get behind the wheel.
On the bright side, he’s been commenting on my driving with far less frequency.
The tables have turned.
Anyway…
After the sobering knowledge that some of my driving skills might be rusty, I’m tempted to try a few more rounds of parallel parking again.
Totally off topic, but…
Did you know I used to speak French fluently during my teen years?
It’s true!
But then I ceased to continue making the effort to utilize my conversational skills.
So now I sound like I’m speaking Klingon rather than French.
Because skills you don’t use are skills you lose.
So use it or lose it.
~Happy Saturday, friends! Hope you all have a great weekend!~
Parallel parking. Yay.
@thebiglybestestdoggie: Move over, ball! Looks like there’s a new toy in town! My dreams of becoming the World’s First Rockstar Doggie may finally come true!
comically quirky 