Fudds Exotics Menu

Have you been to a Fuddruckers? I haven’t because we don’t have one near us…but given a chance, I would. Who could resist the “World’s Greatest Hamburgers?” Especially one with a name that sounds nasty…if you change a few letters around.

Every now and then, there is nothing like a good burger and beer. Simply said: an ale completes an angus…kinda like PaulA completes Kat.

Anywho……….

The news out of Fuddrucker-ville is that they have introduced a menu of exotic burgers called “Fudds Exotics.” We are not talking about serving routine beef…the average Bessie. That is so old school beef. We are talking an animal of a different hoof…big game meat. The kind whose stuffed head looks attractive on the living room wall.

Fuddruckers first started its Fudds Exotics Menu with the bison burger…a half a pound of bison on a bun. Which is a cute way to refer to rangy buffalo meat .

Recently they added elk. I can’t imagine ordering an elk burger off a menu. It just seems like it would taste so elky…not that I know what that tastes like. But, unless I dipped each elk bite in a bucket of blue cheese and chased it with a brewhaha…I think it would blow.

In case bison and elk are just bland potatoes for your taste…stay tuned to the upcoming additions to the Fudds Exotics menu.

Wild boar will be coming in September to a Fuddruckers near you. (Remember: be careful how you pronounce that name in public.)

Ostrich will work its way onto the menu for Thanksgiving. I know most people eat turkey during the Thanksgiving holiday…but if you really want to stick your skinny neck out and try a new meat…the ostrich could be your bird of choice.

There is only one Fuddruckers restaurant located in the state of Connecticut which is in Mashantucket…an Indian Reservation. Most people from the reservation are probably used to taking a walk on the wild side with their food…so they wouldn’t be weirded out by the menu of exotic burgers. I’m sure that…without reservation they would like to see Bear meat offered next. IDK…I’m thinking that bear meat might be too grizzly for me.

As long as they keep the Kat Burger off the menu…I’m down with that. But if you live in East Asia…I hear the Kat burger will soon be coming to a Fuddruckers near you.

(I think I just let the Kat out of the bag with that announcement…sorry Fuddruckers.)

Apply Within

A summer job is a great way for a college kid to earn money toward college expenses. But with the cost of today’s college tuitions...it probably only helps with a weekly Starbucks latte.

I remember the summer jobs I had when I was in college. Who doesn’t???

I remember……………
….Teaching baton twirling to young girls through the town recreation center. I can still see their faces as they looked up to me, like I was something special (more like I was a good two feet taller.)

….Working as a secretary’s assistant at the U.S. Immigration Service-Intelligence. Which, if I might add…it’s only fitting that I landed a position in their Intelligence division…everyone says I ooze intelligencia.

….Working as an office assistant in the Admissions Office at UVM. Unfortunately, admitting prospective students was not part of my job description.

I also remember hoping that I wouldn’t mess up, screw up, or goof up.

Anywho……………..

As I stood in line on my last visit to Carvel…I watched a teenager write “Happy Birthday Jessica” on an ice cream cake. Her cursive was perfect and she had just the right number of crooked letters in Jessica. Hey, that takes skill. I’m thinking if I had her job I would have had to cross out and do over before I got it right.

After I placed my order, I watched her flawlessly stack swirls of ice cream on my medium cone. I commented to her on what a GREAT JOB she did with it…and she beamed. I think it’s nice to give young people praise…to encourage them. Okay, I might have been sucking up to her so she would give me an extra swirl...when I came in the next day.

I wonder how talented I would have been as a Carvel employee. I can be a perfectionist…so I would have had a lot of do-overs…which probably wouldn’t have gone over too big with the bosses. But they never would have found out…I would have easily eaten all my mistakes.

Hmm......I wonder if Carvel is still hiring for the summer or if I missed the banana barge...melting any of my Carvel aspirations.

Dental Captive

There is one career that I would never be aching to do…one that I just wouldn’t want to sink my teeth into. That would be the job of a dental hygienist.

Let’s be real….not every patient has the beautiful mouth of Julia Roberts. Cleaning Julia’s mouth would be a dream job because it would be easy. She has a nice wide mouth…with lots of room for a hygienist. A hygienist can really get right in there…right down to the elbows.

The thought of dealing with the general public’s mouths puts my teeth on edge…especially if the person didn’t have time to brush before the visit. Because a hygienist's job involves invading someone’s personal space…they become privy to knowing who had the burrito…and who had the garlic chicken for lunch.

Anywho…….

Not all patients are easy…especially if they’re like me. During my last teeth cleaning the hygienist asked if there was something wrong because I was wincing and making faces. I wasn’t hurting, but the constant sound of metal scraping my teeth, after a solid 20 minutes...got long in the teeth.

I’m also a squirmer by nature, so I don’t sit still in the recliner. I wring my hands and constantly move my feet. I’m like the Lady GaGa of the dental chair.

Plus I’ve learned that spitting is an art. The hygienist always wants you to rinse and spit, but when I do…I end up running the drool down my face and having to mop up. I guess baseball players are better suited to the spit procedure.

Double Anywho……..

I think I may have brushed my hygienist the wrong way…one too many times. It seems as though she has had it up to her crowns with my Lady GaGa song and dance routine and feels compelled to toughen me up.

I know this by the way she grabs my mouth and yanks it wide open. She’s been giving me the work over while I'm held captive in her chair. I think she is trying to teach me: “Life isn’t all fun and games.” “You’ll be a better person for it.” “The pain I’m feeling actually hurts her more than it hurts me.” Who is this woman anyway? Since when did my mother become a dental hygienist?

Luckily, I managed to escape her clutches by the skin of my teeth. She should be careful though...I'm ready to fight her tooth and nail.

Hey, no skin off my teeth.

The Meat House

With the economy and such, most small stores have had a tough time staying open. The small candy shop where Wishy used to work recently closed …which was a sad day for her…and for all of us with sweet teeth. I’ve got 28 of them.

So it was a medium-rare event when a new store called the Meat House opened. The new store has a neighborhood feel and very good beef. The prime of the prime. The pork of the chop. The Ham of the burger. And it can also be expensive. It puts the X in eXpensive.

I recently went in for a couple of pork chops (pork chops are a way to eat gallons of applesauce without looking like you're 5 years old) and saw they were selling pork chops for 17 dollars a pound. Oooweee…that’s a lot of dough for ham.

I was informed the chops in question were Kurobuta and considered to be the Kobe Beef of pork chops. Like I should be impressed. I don’t care if Kurobuta is the Kobe Bryant of Basketball…I don’t wanna pay that. I say give me rookie pork.

Anywho……..

People are running their ham hocks off to get into the Meat House. Frankly, it’s the busiest store this side of Hamburg.

I’m actually very surprised that people are that mad for the cow. I thought we were eating less meat and more chicken and fish for health reasons. But apparently I’m miSTEAKen. Now I’m finding out people have been hiding red meat in their shopping carts at the Stop and Shop under their Metamucil and bags of lettuce.

Now their love for meat is out in the open. There’s no hiding it when you enter at store called “Meat House...Your Neighborhood Butcher.” I know I might be considered rare...because I prefer sweet over meat…but apparently my town is full of meatheads…Michael Stivic, Chuck Angus, and Sir Loin of Avalon...to name a few.

I better cut it out with the meat jokes. I know I’ve butchered them enough.

Lethal Mouth

I don’t think I’m going out on a limb by saying...Mel Gibson has officially earned his reputation as a racist. I don’t want to offend Mel fans...but he has done it again. Offended yet another group of people.

(Aww...come on Kat....don’t be so hard on the guy. We are talking Mel here....Sexiest Man Alive.)

The anti-Semitic remarks he made after his 2006 DUI arrest were made when he was drunk...so should we excuse them? As far as I’m concerned...his verbal tirade is what he thinks. It is the voice reel that plays in his close-minded brain. The alcohol only took away any filter he might have between his brain and his mouth. Ooooo...so serious katwoman.

Fast forward four years...Mel is caught on audiotape yelling obscenities to his girlfriend that are both anti-African American...and derogatory to women.


Back in his day...back in the 80’s...Mel Gibson was THE MAN... loved by men and women. A man’s man...a woman’s man. But now it’s...Goodbye Lethal Weapon...Hello Lethal Mouth.

Some might feel his remarks are a case of open mouth, insert foot. But I think after his latest remarks...it should be a case of...open mouth, insert soap.

Or maybe the way to handle his Lethal Mouth is for him to go for anger management classes. I’m not exactly sure what goes on in anger management classes but I’m thinking they should have a special closed room for Mell ... an “I’m rubber, you’re glue tank.”

“Okay Mr. Mel Gibson..enter the anger management tank. Shut the door and let loose every nasty thing you’ve ever thought. Get it out of your system. Offend every race, ethnicity, religion, persuasion, and percussion that you can think of. Just get it out in the sealed “ I’m rubber, you’re glue tank.”

Yea...I’m thinking the “I’m rubber, you’re glue. Whatever you say bounces off of me and sticks to you” tank could help Mell with his Lethal Mouth. At least he might feel how offending his comments can be.

Whether to Tether?

The sight that always cracks me up is the sight of a child on a leash. The visual of a child being walked on a leash…looking like they should be on all fours…is one that makes me look twice and chuckle.

I understand why some parents would want to walk their child like a dog in public places. Small kids like to wander off…and there is nothing worse than the fear you have when you think your child is missing. It is instant panic.

And I know this because Colinboy used to do this to me on a regular basis. I never lost him, or came close to it, but there were many times that I felt I lost him forever…even if it was for a split second.

This mostly occurred when shopping in clothing stores. His modus operandi was to hide under the circular clothing racks and not answer when I called him. Maybe it was his way to get me to stop shopping and immediately leave the store, or maybe to watch his mother turn into a Looney Tunes character…but his antics worked on both accounts.

After the initial shock and fear, I would be so happy when I found him and so p o’d when I found him. I’d give him a big hug...and a big scolding about hiding from his mother. I’d lecture him about stranger danger...and tell him about all the time-outs he was going to get later…and threaten him that I was going to send him to bed without…dessert. He would look at me with his baby browns...and flash a smile…as we left the store holding hands headed for home.

Anywho……

I’m thinking the child leash would have saved me from a lot of aggravation. I could have had many hours of worry-free, hassle-free, headache-free shopping. But then again…knowing Colinboy…maybe not. With a leash tethered to his back…he probably would have resorted to barking, panting, and lifting his leg to pee…granting him his intended result...an early exit from the store.

Nasty Clogs

Getting through a crowded airport terminal is not easy.

I don’t know how pilots and flight attendants, who spend their lives walking through airports, deal with people that clog the terminal aisles. They must possess a lot of patience...which is not on my list of virtues. (But neither is tact, courtesy, or understanding.)

The worse is to walk behind 5 or 6 of these cloggers who are walking together. They form a barricade that stretches across the aisle and chat with each other as they saunter through the terminal aisle. There is no way to get through them…unless Red Rover allows it.

Or there are those who make the same move, when you make a move to go around them. So you tack back…and they come about too. They won’t let you sail through. These are the tacking clogger types.

The texter cloggers are the ones in front of you walking with their head down and nose to their phone. Hey, read this texter cloggers: STOP TEXTING AND KEEP IT MOVING.

The indecision cloggers move aimlessly through the aisles…and are very confusing to walk behind. There is no rhyme or reason to their movements…but a strong cup of coffee in the morning usually takes care of that.

But the cruddiest of cloggers are the ones that stop suddenly and cause collisions. They put the freakin’ emergency brake on in the middle of the highway, before the exit ramp.

Anywho....

I’ve been trying to think of how to unclog the terminal aisles of clogger types…a way to flush the airport terminal system of these nasty clogs. (I like to think of ways to improve traffic patterns to make them run smoother. An odd hobby.)

It came to me…Liquid Plumber. Gallons and gallons of Liquid Plumber might do it. It works at home. But they do say chemicals are not very healthy.

Now I’m thinking about a snake. A really long snake would do the trick. All clogs are afraid of snakes.