We generally have friends over on Saturday nights. Not because we don’t dig going out, because we do. But going out all the time does tend to get old, plus you have to worry about the PO-PO pullin your ass over in the middle of the night.

Of course, I’m a spoiled, lucky girl. I have a designated driver at all times and I dig it. Regardless of that, it’s nice just to stay in, cook a smorgassboard of tasty good stuff and drink hot toddies or beer or wine or Jack….

Well, on tap for the past weekend’s buffet was pork tenderloin, rosemary potatoes, steamed snow peas and a variety of other crap.

I must say, I’ve never cooked a tenderloin before and I rocked the balls out of it. Baked it sloooooow in the oven, double wrapped in foil filled with every herb you can think of. After being on slow bake for 3 hours, I jerked that badboy out of the foil and slung it on the grill… G-R-U-B!!

Everybody ate way too damn much.

I, of course, was no exception. Quite the contrary. I started drinkin whilst cooking. The flavor of the day was Meridian Chardonnay, mighty good.

I asked Big T to open me the first bottle and it was on. Between me and Taucha, we polished off close to three bottles. A little much.

I paced myself, like a professional New Orleans drinker. Sipping all night long. It’s hard to tell how much wine one has consumed when one’s glass never quite gets empty before somebody happens by to freshen it.

So, it’s 1:00am, and everybody is leaving. I had been giving Big T the eye and making obscene gestures toward him all night. REOW… come here big daddy.

He was sitting on the couch in the love den, when I crawled up in his lap and made close up obscene gestures at him before departing with my clothes and heading toward the bed. I knew it was a matter of 1.8 seconds before he’d be following me that way.

Woooo! I was feeling my oats. I was gonna tear his ass up. I was gonna make him scream my name and write bad checks. I was gonna make him beg for mercy.
Let the makin out and major league cannoooodlin begin!

I kiss my way down into a desireable spot. Somehow, don’t ask me how… I passed out. His goodies right in front of me and I pass out. Of course at first, he thought I was thinking or taking a breather….

He taps me on the head. “Baby, are you ok? If you’re gonna go to sleep, release that and get on a pillow.”

“I’m not asleep. Swear I’m not.” As I sit up and leave a drool puddle on his belly. “Ok, so I might have been asleep.”

“That’s ok, baby. Go to sleep.”

So I did.

Well, I woke up to him staring at me. “Gotta hang over?”

My head was spinnin, “Hell ya. I’m dehydrated and my head’s spinnin.”

“Why don’t you go back to sleep?” He picked. “You do remember falling asleep last night, right?”

All day long, kids, I had to hear him slip in little comments about my inability to handle my alcohol and still be sexually fucntional. I mean, granted, it was all in fun, but how embarrassing is that?

“Sorry, baby. I swear I’ll never drink again.” Rolling my eyes. “Gimme some aspirin.”

“Yah. Yah.” He gets me aspirin, “You know you got yours and you were done, ready to go to sleep. Sometimes I think our roles in this marriage are jacked the hell up.”

“I know, huh? I spit, burp, and fart better than you.” Smiling at him like the cat that ate the canary.

Pick on me again some more.

There’s nothing Diva digs more than a fiesta. Well, unless beer is involved. And what would ya know… I got both over the weekend. My bestest friends Holly, Mario and Tausha heard through the rumor mill that I was making enchiladas and such for dinner Saturday night and that was enough for them. Holly said she’d bring some good stuff and we’d have a fiesta. Complete with rice, beans, salsa and chips…. and BEER. Yay! Come on over boys and girls. There were all us adult types, 6 teenager and 2 munchkins. So, I was cooking my ass off listening to the VOLS get spanked. (Sorry drifting off, a little annoyed it didn’t go any better than it did… interception throwin mama’s boys)… Anyhoo…I made Chicken enchiladas and homemade red sauce (mmmmm):

And beef enchilada casserole:

Rice n Beans (refried beans just aren’t pretty, so there’s no pic).

And Holly’s grub-ass homemade, garlic filled, spicy as hell salsa:

We were playing kamakazi karaoke in the lair when “Just a Gigalo” came on. This is the point where Lil T (the 2year old grandson) informs me that he is, in fact, a gigalo. Big T confirmed to Lil T, that it’s ok to be a gigalo.

I tried to explain to him “You should be a pimp, it pays better. Say pimp.”

“No! Gigalo!” He screams and runs off.

It’s true. If ya have a choice, for goodness sake, be a pimp. Look, he could pimp his auntie and her friends out. He’s got every one of those girls wrapped around his pinkie finger…

And its official. I crowned my BFF (Holly) my beeeeyach. She’s a skank and I love her more than a squirrel loves a nut.

She is now in charge of kitchen clean up every time we drunk at the house. She is quite good at it. Reckon if she would have known I was gonna blog her ass and slap her picture up on the internets that she would have stayed in her PJs? Heh. Again, I say, you are a skank, but you are a damn fine kitchen cleaner upper.

Giblets. Who the hell named all the yack in a turkey “giblets” anyway?

And it’s not that giblets aren’t around any other time of year, but this would be the only time of year that I will actually touch and prepare an actual bird.

A note to all you kids who aren’t savvy when it comes to turkey porn… When looking for the giblets, it is required that you stick your hand up the turkey’s ass. There you will also find it’s neck (please know I’m gaggin’ over here just thinking about this). If you find a neck but no giblet package, pull your hand out of the turkey’s ass, turn the turkey over, and shove your hand down it’s throat. There you are sure to find that lovely little package of turkey gutz.

Trust me on this one kids, it happened to a really close friend of mine. You DO NOT want to bring your beautifully golden, perfectly tender turkey to the table for the ceremonial carving only to find a baked, crusty, brown bag full of nasty turkey goodies. It’s just not a pretty sight.

I’m officially cookin with gas now… No, I don’t mean the fumes that burst periodically out of T’s butt from the fart war. No, I’m actually steppin in high cotton now, kids. T acquired me a new, gas grill yesterday. Ain’t it cool? I pity those ladies who get flowers and jewelery. Sheer chicken perfection came off that bad boy last night. Beautifully sliced for fajitas which I shall scarf down for lunch today.

In other flatulent news, Me and Big T have been in a fart war for a little over a week. Yah, I know, that’s not lady like and totally sick. Just so you know, he started that shit…(hahaha). It has been scientically proven that, in fact, my shit does NOT stink and his could peel the paint off the walls. Please don’t look down on me for being childish and obscene. Thanks!

Running score: Tony 5, Me 4

How do you keep a marriage fresh? Make time to go on a date together. Get rid of the kiddies and get ‘r dun. After Big T and Me saw his mom Saturday night and dropped the boy off. We were feelin a little froggy. We went to Shoney’s for their sinfully rich-half frozen tasty treat… Hot Fudge Cake. Actaully it wasn’t a bona-fide date, but I told him I was goin for something sweet and yummy and that I wasn’t driving not even 1/10 of a mile farther until I got loaded up with some coffee.

Still yet, we had some alone time to make fun of all the people making mountain sized salads.

The Holiday Spirit kicked me right square in the ass over the weekend. I got all holly and jolly and started up with the Christmas decorations. No, I’m not redneck enough that I’m going to light them up just yet. I’m just pre-decorating in an effort to be the tackiest, most well lit house in the neighborhood. Go me! I’ve got more than 3,500 little twinkle lights and I fully intend to utilize every single one of them. (Once I get in the running for Tackiest Decorations of 2007, I’ll post some pix).

     Okay, I’m not much for memes, viral nature and all.  I mean, crap, I skipped out on the last one Tish tagged me with because, well, I know what Web 2.0 is, and the meme author apparently had a very limited view of it.  All I could’ve put was “my blog,” so I was kinda like … well … Stuck.

     This one, though, has a pretty good purpose: finding some great places to eat locally, or when we’re travelling around.  And so, I’m pretty happy to answer this one from LissaKay, because … well … I’m a big fan of food.  I try and eat some a few times a day.  (And I’m fortunate enough to have a highly trained metabolism that allows me to eat like it’s my last my meal.)

     This one’s originally by Chronicles of Nicole, and comes to us all the way from Sydney, Australia.

1. Add a direct link to your post below the name of the person who tagged you. Include the city/state and country you’re in.

Nicole (Sydney, Australia)
velverse (Kuala Lumpur, Malaysia)
LB (San Giovanni in Marignano, Italy)
Selba (Jakarta, Indonesia)
Olivia (London, England)
ML (Utah, USA)
Lotus (Toronto, Canada)
tanabata (Saitama, Japan)
Andi (Dallas [ish], Texas, United States)
Todd (Louisville, Kentucky, United States)
miss kendra (los angeles, california, u.s.a)
Jiggs Casey (Berkeley, CA, USA! USA! USA!)
Tits McGee (New England, USA)
Joe (NE Tennessee, USA)
10K Monkeys (Chattanooga, Tennessee, USA)
Big Stupid Tommy (Athens, Tennessee, USA)
Newscoma (Weakley County, Tennessee, USA)
Russ McBee (Knoxville, Tennessee, USA)
Atomictumor Mrs Eaves (Oak Ridge, Tennessee, USA)
Oh Really? LissaKay (Oak Ridge, TN, USA)
Mark Steel blogitude.com (Knoxville, TN, USA)

2. List out your top 5 favorite places to eat at your location.

My Place - Yes, I can cook.  And I’m pretty damn good at it, too, as long as you like spicy food.  I specialize in Southern Asian (Indian/Thai/Malay), Italian (like the 20-pound lasagne or Sicilian-style meat-sauce) and TexMex (it burns most Mexicans).

Ali Baba’s TimeOut Deli (Kingston Pike) - I’ve known those guys for the better part of twenty years.  Absolutely the best humos in the world, and I’ve certainly traveled it enough to know… And you can never go wrong with the “special,” King Solomon’s Chicken — a slow-roasted hen in a tasty lemon-seed marinade, with a couple of vegetable sides over basmati rice.

Tomo (Kingston Pike) - The Sushi/Sashimi connoisseur can never go wrong here.  Everything there is perfectly fresh and delicious, and the dinner service is most excellent.  Perfect … but certainly not inexpensive.  I can’t get out of there without spending at least $50 on myself.  But I certainly leave happy…

Chesapeake’s Seafood (Henley Street) - Dinner dining includes a full course of a Mussel Appetizer, choice of Salad, Maine Lobster with two sides, and some impressive Cheesecake all for less than what it costs at the nasty chain restaurant that everyone goes to (the one with Lobster in the title)… and impeccable service that rivals many of the 5-Stars I’ve dined in.  Daily fresh fish of the Sushi-grade variety … I really enjoy the Yellow Tail (No, Benny, I’m not talking about the Chinese girl).

Sitar (Kingston Pike) - Sometimes, I find it’s too much of a chore to cook Indian Food, so I hit this place for the Sunday afternoon buffet.  Although they don’t have a Vindaloo on it (aww!) they have several other incredibly tasty dishes which change weekly.  One of the best things about the place, tho, as compared to most other Indian restaurants in the area, is that everything’s nice and spicy, and they have a distinct lack of clarified butter (ghee).  That’s what causes the kerosene-like aftertaste at some Indian restaurants — and I hate it.  Since a lot of Indians use ghee at home, it comes as no big surprise that India leads the world in cases of throat cancer…

Country Table (N. Cherry Street) - Southern, home cooking all the way… Turnip greens, pinto beans, mashed potatos and gravy, country fried steak (and it’s awesome), T-bone steaks (however you want it!), pork tenderloins (which I can’t eat, dammit! Pork makes me really sick), buttermilk biscuits, good southern cornbread (not that sweet shit they serve up north), and all the coffee and iced tea you can drink.  I do lunch there every now again if I’m working in East Knoxville, and totally love the place.  A lot of people simply won’t check it out because of the location … but I never did care about that.

3. Tag 5 Others

Swanky - This guy like to eat as much as I do, and has intimate knowlege of some of the Knoxville metro’s best dives — and will undoubtedly list more of my favorites.

ChattieKat - She grew up here in Knoxville, and should be able to drop in a few that Swanky and I miss.

Anton - Anton showed me a couple of really kickass places in Houston a few weeks ago.

Fracas - I like to research my food choices ahead of time.  And on the odd chance that I’m ever in Saskatoon, I’d like to find some place else better to eat than that craphole truck stop diner on the highway…

Zacque - Fellow blogitude.com writer who recently buggered off to Nashville, and it’s about time he took a break from ravaging his girlfriend and wrote a blog for a change. 

     So that’s that… Meanwhile, I’m gonna go to Ali Baba’s for a Special…