NEW BLOG TITLE

I changed the name of my blog from Confessions... to The Cheese Factor. I think it accurately expresses the focus of the site which is primarily to archive my String Cheese articles. Furthermore, it will give me the lattitude to exercise a little more freedom of speech.

Singin' in the Rain

It's rained for the past two days.

It's also been cold.

The whole weather situation has me craving steak and kidney pie with a small dallop of Branston Pickle. 

I remember when I was in England the weather was always wet and chilly. When I look at pictures of me back then I sure was pale. At least by Mexican standards. It's days like this I wish I could just zip over to London for a small visit.

Blimey.

All I want for Christmas is my two front teeth

Saturday night I spent most of the night in the emergency room.
While I was on patrol, I got one of those strange parental feelings. I called my wife because I hadn't heard from her all day and I knew she was taking the kids with her to the radio station.
When I got her on the phone she sounded frantic. She told me she was going to the hospital because my daughter needed to be looked at.
Once again, my three year old stunt girl banged her face on a solid object. This time it was a doozy.
There are two types of phone calls I dread getting regarding this girl. The first one deals with any injury. The second has more to do with the one call you get from the county jail.
When I got to the emergency room I knew it was bad because they let me go right in without wanting to see my insurance card. They were in the "Trauma 2" room, which also gave me a pretty good idea about the situation.
When I came in I saw my daughter on a gurney with blood all over her face, my wife about to pass out, and my son with his eyes darting about wondering if he was going to be next in line for shots.
The doctor came in and did his assessment, then had a PA stitch her up with two stitches in her bottom lip. She didn't cry nearly as bad as I did when I got the bill.
On 3/2/09 she went to the dentist and had her two front teeth pulled. There was no use in letting them stay. My wife was upset at first, but I reminded her that most of the girls in East Texas are missing their front teeth anyway. The doctor put her two little pearly incisors in a little plastic container for posterity. I think I'll have them made into earrings and give them to her on her 18th birthday.
UPDATE: My daughter is totally milking the sympathy. She loves the attention and having chocolate shakes for dinner. She says she can't wait to lose more teeth so she can get more money from the Tooth Fairy.

String Cheese - Article Twenty Two

Two take Texas-sized

bite out of Big Apple

by ARYN CORLEY

“Watch out! You’re gonna kill someone!”

When I heard my wife shout those words to our cab driver, it was then I realized that we were really in New York City. However, our driver didn’t understand much English so her plea had fallen on uncomprehending ears. As the cab dodged in and out of traffic like Emmitt Smith running through the Steeler’s defensive line, I wondered if we’d properly completed our will. After a short ride we were dumped at our destination in Queens.

Queens, New York, is not exactly a tourist destination. It’s much like Pointblank, only slightly bigger. At least the hotel was free. There didn’t seem to be any insects because the rats had eaten them all. The hotel where we stayed (name withheld because I can’t write in Arabic) was probably very nice about the same time Fleetwood Mac was big.

Being from Texas, distance is a strange thing. We drive everywhere because nothing is close by. In a big city like New York, a “block” is actually a unit of measure. It’s about as long as a football field. So when the bell captain (funny, our hotel had no bell nor steeple for that matter) said the subway station was five blocks away, that sounded really close.

Normally, walking five hundred yards doesn’t bother me unless it’s in extremely cold weather. New York in February is pretty darn close to winter. It’s perfect weather for hanging deer meat or just dying from hypothermia. Texans have no business being in the cold. Which is why we invented the jalapeno.

Texans also have no business traveling on the subway system. It’s very easy to tell a Texan in the subway station. We’re the ones who say, “Which train is this?” It took us a couple of days to figure out the trains don’t run from point A to point B. I think a few times we accidentally ended up where we needed to be.

While we were there, we visited my sister. She lives in an apartment in Manhattan. I never realized just how living in such a huge city is different than living in the country. When I look out my window, I see a beautiful shot of Lake Livingston. When I looked out my sister’s window, I saw a half-naked woman staring at me with bewilderment. She was probably wondering why my nose was flattened on the glass.

I have to say, though, the food was amazing. We Texans are blessed with good food. So are New Yorkers. My wife and I ate in a Chinese restaurant one evening. We had no idea what we ordered other than it was fried and the wait staff was very interested to see if we were going to puke. We also had some fantastic Greek food. They rolled their eyes at us when we ordered two “Ji-Rohs.” They also looked at us like they’d never heard of Dr. Pepper!

Sadly, we never made it out to ground zero and my fear of heights automatically ruled out the Empire State building. We were able to see the Statue of Liberty and Ellis Island. I was finally able to satisfy my curiosity as to what the Statue of Liberty wears underneath her toga. You can see it if you go around behind the statue itself. I’m not telling what it is though. It’s a secret.

Ellis Island was a sobering testament to the people who came to this country looking for a better way of life. Several thousand immigrants came here with nothing but a few dollars in their pockets and desire to make it in this country. Fortunately, they had a restaurant, souvenir shop, and plenty of exhibits to keep them busy.

After a few days of blistering cold and almost getting run over by busses and taxis, it was time for us to come home. In a way I was saddened our trip wasn’t a couple of days longer. The general level of friendliness and hospitality we were shown while we were there pleasantly surprised me. New Yorkers are stereotypically viewed as rude, arrogant, and brash. We must not have been in the right part of the city.

Now, I have a better understanding of all those shirts I saw which read: I “heart” New York.

String Cheese - Article Twenty One

Telemarketers talk jive with turkey

By ARYN CORLEY

Without fail, usually around dinnertime, the phone rings. I make my way through a minefield of children’s toys, discarded clothing, and oddly shaped furniture to grab the phone before the caller hangs up.

Could it be a long lost relative wanting to add me to their will?

Could it be the tax office calling to say they made a mistake and my taxes are being lowered?

Perhaps, the governor needs to appoint me as the executive director of the Texas Department of Nonsense.

When I answer the phone I’m immediately disappointed.

“Hello, Mr. Carley,” says the gruff female voice. “Have you thought about your funeral arrangements? What would happen if you were to pass away tomorrow?”

For starters, I wouldn’t have telemarketers bothering me anymore.

I suspect that only mere minutes after Alexander Graham Bell made his historic first phone call, his new device rang and on the other end was a nice lady from Bolivia trying to sell him identity theft insurance. Always the sucker for Bolivian women, Bell agreed and a new era of telephone solicitation was ushered in.

Thanks, Alex.

Anyone aspiring to make a living as a telemarketer must have stalwart determination and a healthy appetite for rejection. It’s the perfect job for people who love to take “no” for an answer. Telemarketer training is also an arduous task. Trainees are kept in small cages and are fed very little food and water while listening to the constant drone of dial tones. The training is so intense it makes the Navy SEALs seem like the Boy Scouts!

How else can someone perform this job without going completely bananas?

I had a telemarketing job once. I worked for a company that tried to sign people up for welding school. It was this job that taught me about the many different ways one can get cussed out over the phone. I lasted one week before I called in and said I couldn’t come to work any more because of my “eardrum infection.”

Since then I’ve been very courteous to telemarketers. However, they’re not exempt from my petty torments.

A children’s book club once called begging me to order more wholesome, family-oriented books for my dear children. When the telemarketer on the other end of the phone line asked me if I was the man of the house I responded negatively.

“I’m only the man after the REAL man leaves.” There was a gasp, and then the line went dead. Needless to say, my children never received the full set of the Dr. Seuss collection.

I’ve learned that credit card companies get very nervous when you speak with a Middle Eastern accent and start asking about frequent flyer miles and untraceable one-way tickets.

I also get many telephone surveys. Those don’t count as telemarketing because they’re asking for something that is not only free, but totally worthless: my opinion. A little skew never hurt anyone.

Regardless of the inconvenience that telemarketers cause, I’m never rude. I always remain polite and whenever possible I try to glean as much information as I can about the telemarketers themselves.

One girl from Toronto, Canada, told me all about the trouble she was having with her sister. Even though I wasn’t going to buy additional life insurance, I was glad I was able to provide her with an ear that would listen to what she really had to say.

Still, there is a part of me that can’t help itself when a telemarketer calls.

“Hello, is Mr. Conley there?” the man asks.

“ Sorry. A bear mauled him earlier today! ,” I respond cheerfully.

“Can I take a message?”

What's eating Gilbert Gator?

If you happen to find yourself wondering what to do with all that great alligator meat. Here's a nice recipe for you.

Gator Sauce Piquant

3-4 lbs gator meat cut into 1/2" cubes (if no gator, substitute any small reptile)
1 large bell pepper - diced
1 med yellow onion - diced
1 bunch of green onions - chopped
1 cup celery - chopped
1 can Rotel tomato and chiles
1 can stewed tomatoes
Tony Chacheres seasoning to taste
2 bay leaves
2 tbsp parsley
1 tsp garlic powder
1 tsp salt
Tabasco to taste
Worcester Sauce
Soy sauce
2 cups rice
2 cans tomato sauce 6 oz.

Cut meat into 1/2" cubes, season lightly with Tony's and garlic powder. Saute in heavy pot until brown. Add 3 cups of water and simmer 20 minutes. Add onion, celery, bell pepper, Rotel, and stew tomatoes. Cook on medium heat for about 30 minutes; stirring often. Add 2 bay leaves and parsley. Cook on low heat 15 additional minutes, remove bay leaves and add Worcester sauce, soy sauce, and Tabasco sauce to taste. Add 2 cans of tomato sauce; stirring often. Cook 2 cups of rice or enough to feed six adults.
(courtesy of Robert Englund, Port Acres, TX, from Alligators in Texas, Texas Parks and Wildlife, 2005)

Twitterpated

I'm hooked on this Twitter thing. I've found it to be a great way to network and get people reading my columns. . If you want to follow my "tweets" just go to http://www.twitter.com and create a free account. Look for ArynCorley. Then follow. It's so easy!
As an added bonus, I've subscribed to TwitPic so I can share some of my interesting photos with the rest of the world.
My sincerest thanks to all of you who read my stuff and tell others about it.