Tag Archives: holiday

The Best Kind Of Candy

The best kind of candy is the kind you didn’t know you had.

I’m not talking about specific types of candy. I mean, that’s not even a contest.

Everyone knows that the best candy is Reese’s peanut-butter cups in whichever configuration is on sale at the moment. Be it eggs, trees, jack-o-lanterns or just plain cups, Reese’s peanut butter candies are the absolute best.

Hands down. End of competition. Drops the mic and walks away.Reese's peanut butter eggs are the very best candy ever in the history of sweet, sweet candy. I love them more than any other candy.

However. . .

That being said, I do believe that there is only one way that Reese’s could be better. It’s the same way that every other candy also can become better.*

And that’s if you find it even though you thought you were out.

Here it is, a week past the last candy-giving holiday, one in which the giving of Reese’s peanut butter eggs is almost considered mandatory, and I thought I’d long finished the candy I purchased to give away to the various members of Casa de Dude, be they on the mailing list or be they getting it by hand.

The odds of any sort of candy lasting a week in this house are slim and none and slim just left the building. Mostly to go meet with his nickname support group. He’s a big guy, Slim.

Anywho. . .

In Casa de Dude, candy gets eaten. Even when my wife, known to me as She Who Must Be Avoiding Carbs Like A Vampire Avoids Roasted Garlic Steaks**, has been known to chow down on candy that’s been forced into her mouth and made to swallow. Or that has been left out. Or that has been hidden away in a not-very-good hiding place, like, say, behind the fridge, under a decoy pile of trash.

We like our candy, is what I’m saying.

Hyper Lad especially. Which, come to think of it, might have something to do with his nickname.

In the normal course of events, candy goes quickly in this house. Which I thought was what had happened to the three Reese’s peanut butter eggs that I found yesterday. I immediately checked to make sure they were left over from a week ago, not a year and a week ago. Not that it would have stopped me from eating them, but I at least felt slightly more virtuous this way.

There were three. By coincidence, there are three members of the family still living inside the friendly confines of Casa de Dude at the moment. What luck! What fortune!

What are you, nuts? Of course I didn’t tell them about my find. I mean, I might have. If the candy had lasted longer than the 2.4377281374 minutes it took me to rip them from their hiding place, unwrap them and shove them all into my mouth.

Nom. Nom. Nom.

And they were delicious. So delicious, in fact, that the wonderful taste easily overpowered the tiny, shrieking nubbin of guilt that got swallowed along with the found candy.

mmmmmmmmm caaaaaaannnnddyyyyy mmmmmmm

Footnotes & Errata

* With the exception of Twizzlers or Red Vines. There is nothing that can make those two appalling misnomers for candy taste better than the sludge from which they’re made. ick
* See what I did there? It is a pune, or play on words.

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Boxing Day And Me With No Gloves

Well, no big, puffy gloves designed to hit people.

And, yes, dudes, I realize it’s not that kind of boxing.

Boxing Day is a rather Anglophilic holiday, being celebrated in UK, Canada, Hong Kong, South Africa and a few other places. Traditionally, the day after Christmas was when the wealthy snobs would give gifts to the servants and tradesmen in what was known as a Christmas box. Hence, boxing day.

Nothing about the Sweet Science in the Squared Circle at all. (And thus ends my knowledge of boxing. Rather shallow, that.)

We don’t necessarily have the day off here in the states, but I definitely think we should. I mean, this is the Day of Recovery for most of us who celebrate Christmas, religious or no.

We’ve done the major clean up, but now it’s time to get our heads back on straight. Time to remember that people aren’t going to pop out of the chimney and hand us gifts just for being good little dudes and dudettes any more this year.

Time to realize that eggnog is appalling, like white snot in a glass and we really wouldn’t be drinking it if it weren’t some sort of tradition and, of course, filled with enough alcohol to anesthetize a very lost elephant who had suddenly found itself in a cocaine processing plant.


It could happen. Maybe. Somewhere in the multiverse.

Moving on.

Today is the day my teenagers go back to being teenagers. Yesterday, on Christmas Day, they reverted to their younger selves and actually rose on their own, leapt from bed and came charging down the stairs, ready to take on the day. And anyone who stood between them and their presents.

On Boxing Day? Not so much.

There’ll be quiet in the house again this morning. The only one likely to make a noise is Buzz, the garbage disposal that walks like a dog, who’s still going to demand a walk at a reasonable hour. And, like the chump that I am, I’ll give it to him.

Boxing Day also is the Day of Regret. Mostly I’ll regret that I didn’t do a better job of listening to people during the year and, consequently, purchased presents for them that they didn’t really want and forget the stuff they did.

I love giving presents. I just wish I were better at it.

Regardless, today is the day we begin to ease back into the real world, to rejoin our real lives. Already in progress.

So what do you say, dudes?

Let’s get out there and live ’em.

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Arrrr! It Be Talk Like A Pirate Day 2013

To Hyper Lad’s horror, that most special day of the year has rolled ’round again at last. Welcome, dudes and dudettes, to the most celebrated internet holiday of all: International Talk Like A Pirate Day.

It’s time to be slobbing around the mizzenmast, to threaten misbehaving young dudes with keelhauling, to scream about the topsail and battening down the hatches. It’s time to find your new Pirate Name.

Talk Like A Pirate Day
Illustration by Ghergich & Co.

It’s time to embarrass your young dudes still at home by wandering around and speaking in pirate slang with a horrific pirate vocabulary and seeing things from a pirate point of view. It might even be time to listen to Jimmy Buffett sing “A Pirate Looks at 40.”

Okay, fine, I do this most every day of the year, but this is the day I’m actually supposed to do it.

Over the years, my young dudes have learned to love/hate this particular day. It was funny to them when I first began to celebrate this holiday, but, over the years, it became a bit of an embarrassment for them. I guess I probably shouldn’t have followed each of them into school, shouting like a pirate and forcing everyone to call me by my Pirate Name. And, yes, I might have gone a big overboard when I took to wearing full regalia and waving a cutlass at the approaching school safety officers. But, in my defense, it was fun.

Well, fun for me anyway.

Speaking of fun, I headed over to the International Talk Like A Pirate Day website and found loads of fun stuff to have fun with in a very fun way. See? I told you I was going to be speaking of fun.

I found The Official Talk Like A Pirate Personality Inventory, which sounds very official-like, don’t cha think. I found it to be an incisive look into the various matrices that mesh together to form the cogent bit of grog-drinking, sabre-wielding manliness you read before you.

I am: The Quartermaster (The ship’s disciplinarian).You, me hearty, are a man or woman of action! And what action it is! Gruesome, awful, delightful action. You mete out punishment to friend and foe alike – well, mostly to foe, because your burning inner rage isn’t likely to draw you a whole lot of the former. Still, though you may be what today is called “high maintenance” and in the past was called “bat-shit crazy,” the crew likes to have you around because in a pinch your maniacal combat prowess may be the only thing that saves them from Jack Ketch. When not in a pinch, the rest of the crew will goad you into berserker mode because it’s just kind of fun to watch. So you provide a double service – doling out discipline AND entertainment.

There’s also the wonderfully funny Pirate Name Generator, which I believe might, in fact, not care what name you put into it and will simply generate a random pirate name for you. Still, when I get the opportunity to be called Pirate Argus The Badly Burnt, well, I’m going to take that opportunity. If you’d like to be a bit more certain of the truthfulness of your name, you can always go here and take the Pirate Name Quiz, which will help you find the perfect pirate name for your personality.

I am, of course, Roger Kidd. I’ve no idea why it’s Roger Kidd, but I like what it has to say about me: Even though you’re not always the traditional swaggering gallant, your steadiness and planning make you a fine, reliable pirate. That is, um. . .Arr!

So get out there and grab some booty, terrorize the parrots, and kiss the cannon, dudes and dudettes. Have a little fun today.

And if you can embarrass your kids a little (or a lot) along the way? So much the better.

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